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synintheraven · 7 months

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✵pairing: sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

✵summary: the journey to Tamworth/Mercia begins, Sihtric and reader explore the land as he becomes slightly more approachable.

✵tw: mentions of violence/kills, nothing really :p

✵word count: 1,3k

characters info | part one | part two

We left at first light, riding slowly as we followed the river and the sun emerged from the sea. The green, muddy waters of East Anglia glimmered with the weak light of the morning and the wind brushed the reeds growing in our way, promising a bright day.

But we were soon to leave East Anglia and cross into Mercian territory. Where the small islands covered by the changing tide would be replaced by lush hills and large farm lands; for Grantebridge’s territory was vast and covered by orange-coloured trees, with a handful of churches and poorly fortified villages scattered throughout its higher ground.

—Right there, where the hills are greener, that’s Mercia. —He explained, riding by my side as he pointed his finger towards the Monastery’s tower, hiding behind trees in the far distance. —And we’re to cross it to its northern border, to the Ragnarsson’s camp in Tamworth.

I sensed Sihtric’s mood was different that autumnal morning. Seeing as the fresh wind blew on his face and swept the fur cape over his shoulders, making sure to keep pace with my horse as he stayed close to me. —Have you been there before? —I asked.

—We sailed to Mercia when we heard Danes were attacking King Burgred’s fortress, but we didn’t stay long enough to participate in their war. —He explained with a frown, probably remembering that journey.

—Why not? —I said as his eyes searched for mine, puzzled. —You could’ve taken a lot of plunder from a Mercian King.

—It wasn’t our fight. —He took a deep breath then let out a sigh. —We came here to escape Harald’s ambition and Halfdan’s pointless appetite for war, not to terrorize Saxon kings.

—What are you fighting for then, Dane? —I emphasised the word Dane, aware of how unlikely it was for a Dane to follow Norse lords blindly.

Sihtric took a few moments to answer, watching the heron birds resting along the river’s edge and the smoke filling the sky over the nearby villages, his hands holding the reins tightly as the sun reflected on his silver rings. —I’m fighting for Yggr, and for a spot of land where we can make our own lives. —He said with a hint of doubt in his calming voice, thoughtful.

—So, are you really going to follow Yggr as your Jarl forevermore? Or are you to set sail to unclaimed lands and become a Lord yourself?

—I will follow him, —He paused to look at me again, ever proud of his own words. —but should the Nornir decide I am to be a Lord, then so it will be.

We had reached a crumbling round tower, surrounded by dried trees and yellow grass. Yet it wasn’t the work of Roman giants, its muddy bricks suggesting the damp weather and time had destroyed the structure way before the Romans arrived.

The fog seemed to have lifted from our position, revealing distant cottages and the small church among reeds that sat on Mercian land. It was a reminder that we had quite a long way to go still, but in two days’ time we would reach Tamworth and join the brothers.

Our mission was to gain their trust and discover their plans for Britain, as we hoped to ensure they would leave East Anglia at peace for Yggr’s small clan; though as long as Wessex riches remained clear of Danes, the Great Army would stay away from our camp.

I watched the old stone bridge crossing the river, the ravens circling above the remains of a burnt farm. Complete disaster taking over the land all the way to the west, to Alfred’s Kingdom. Imagining the green hills, ancient roman walls and clean docks, without a single Danish longship navigating its waters.

And so I let out a sigh, aware that we would be forced to march against Wessex if we were to convince the sons of Ragnar of our shared ambition.

—What’s on your mind, Stavanger? —Sihtric interrupted, suddenly catching my attention as we crossed the river.

—Wessex. —I lied, still hoping to find the man who killed my family, feeling as if a hole carved itself through my chest as we spoke. —I heard its churches are full of gold and silver, yet no Dane has ever made it close enough to prove it.

—He’s the King, —he added with a smirk, looking away for a moment. —and he’s managed to keep our kin out of his land. You can’t do that without silver, and certainly can’t raise an army with nothing but empty words about Gods. —The tone in his voice had turned deeper as he explained, sensing the worry in his words.

—Have you killed many Saxons?

—Some, —he paused, probably feeling the unease in my voice as well. —but only when it was necessary.

It was the way of our people: to kill for food, shelter, livelihood and our families. But the Saxons saw a group of evil creatures killing anything and everything standing before them, ignoring that some of us weren’t after a hard, wooden throne.

Some of us were fleeing a mad king and others, like me, were only seeking the end of an old story, knowing no other feeling than that of resentment and vengeance.

We had reached a thin muddy road, following the way of the hill in between bushes and dried grass.

The land around us was deserted, with no more than a bunch of trees leading towards Theotford and a few foxes wandering around the yellowish hill. At the highest point, half covered by the fog, lay a marvellous stone structure. But, no longer beside the river, the view from higher ground revealed a long abandoned ruin, another one of the Roman’s great work.

Torn walls, broken columns and muddy tiles with curious patterns; a place once full with life, but now was home to old vases, smudged paintings on the walls and sculptures of Goddesses.

Yet despite the weather’s destruction, the place remained of magnificent beauty and calm, so we allowed the horses to rest as we explored the area.

It surprised me to realize no one had turned such a place into their home, seeing as the curved roof, made of bricks and stone, still protected one of the buildings against the weather.

—I’ve been here before. —Sihtric added as his eyes were fixated on one of the marble sculptures, running his fingers over the cold skin of its stone legs. —Yggr wanted to turn this place into our camp, but the river is quite far from here and we didn’t want to leave some of our crew behind to guard the ship.

—I’m sure you men would’ve enjoyed all these naked women painted on the walls, though many would’ve been easily distracted by them also. —I teased with a smile, making it obvious that I was talking about him too.

—I prefer women of flesh over these stone ladies. —He explained awkwardly, unable to hide his smile while he looked at me. —Yggr couldn’t keep his hands off one of the tall angels near the entrance, said he regretted it wasn’t a real woman. —he raised an eyebrow as he beckoned towards the tall arch, which I guessed was the entrance of the Roman ruin.

—Angels? —I asked intrigued, though in truth I was trying not to let out a laugh, his curved lips giving away that our Jarl probably wasn’t the only one touching the poor statue.

—They have wings like birds and the Christians think they’re holy creatures, apparently. —He explained dismissively.

—So you and Yggr desecrated their divine creature, then.

—No, I didn’t! —He chuckled with a fake frown, taking distance from the statue before us. —I accidentally broke one of its fingers, but Yggr did the inappropriate touching.

—I hope you remain very appropriate with me, then. —I teased jokingly, watching as his broad smile turned into a smirk and his face turned red.

Bonus facts (again)

Grantebridge/scire: modern Cambridge, both Sihtric and reader have to ride through most of the shire to cross into Oxenefordscire (modern Oxford) and later into Ledecestrescire (modern Leicester), where Tamworth is.

#sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson x reader #sihtric x reader #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartansson x you #my writing #road to valhalla #rtv #tlk fanfic #the last kingdom fic

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sunflowersandforgetmenots · 2 years

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A Meal for Her Lordship~ Vampire Soma x Reader

This is really short and really bad at the end I'm so sorry agh. I'm not used to writing Soma yet, and this one is just pure ass smut so it's. Yeah. It's yeah. I might redo this one later, or expand in other fics!

Soma had her eye on you, you knew that as you lived your life in Grantebridge. You had yours on her as well, of course, but playing hard to get was fun. Until one night, and you’re stuck in the longhouse during a storm, and Soma… well Soma hadn’t eaten in so long, and there were two meals she was dying to taste.

Tagging: Biting Kink, Blood Kink, Table Sex, Squirting

Word Count: 1525

“Are you sure about this, (Y/N)? You will not face my ire if you say no.” The Lord of Grantebridge whispers, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. Her hair was a mess, eyes flashing a deep red as her eyes scan over the scope of your neck and face. Your nightgown, heavy to combat the cold fall rain, was ripped a bit to expose your shoulder, the swell of your right breast holding up the torn fabric just enough to keep your dignity.

“I’m sure.” You breath out, reaching out to cup Soma’s cheek, running your thumb over the skin. She was sweating a bit, despite the cold, despite the rain outside keeping the two of you isolated in her long house. There was a glint in her eyes, hungry, pleading, affectionate, all in one.

You bare your neck, leaning your head to the side, as you pull Soma in by the back of her head. She falls into you, pressing you into the table a bit more, hips pressing between your legs and hands bracing herself on either side of your body. Her nose grazes over your neck, tickling you just a bit as she searches for your vein.

“You smell delicious…” She moans, left hand moving from the table to press into your lower back, holding you up like extra insurance. “I bet you taste even better… I’ve had my eyes on you for so long… your beauty…” Her lips press into the side of your neck, feeling your pulse. “Your kindness.” Her tongue darts out, flat against your skin. You moan, though the sensation was weird. You felt her tongue, cold and wet against you, but then… nothing except a slight tingle. “Your intelligence… you’ve captured me, (Y/N)… and doing this… it will surely drive me mad if I do not get to keep you…”

There was a hidden question in her words. Can I keep you? And there was no hesitance in your answer. You needed her, you wanted her so badly, not just now, but for months you’ve been chasing after her affection. It was thrilling to know that she, thank the gods above, wanted you just as much.

Maybe even more with the way she was grinding into you slightly.

“Then keep me… gods, please keep me, I would let you drain me if you so wished.” You plead, hand tangling up into her short hair, black hair spilling through your fingers as you hold on.

“Then how am I to hear your cries of pleasure as I make you cum, my darling?” And her teeth sink into your skin.

You don’t feel pain, oh no, it’s so much sweeter than anything you could have thought it could have been. It was near orgasmic with how it made you feel. Her lips sucking up your blood, the edges of your vision swimming, pleasure coursing through your body. Your toes curl a bit, and a gasp escapes your lips as she lays you down against the table.

“My darling…” Soma muses, sounding a million miles away. Her tongue flicks out, licking up the blood one final time and helping the wounds close. “Shh… can you hear me?”

“Mm…” You whined, hands weaving into her hair and pressing her face into your neck again. “More…”

“No, no my love… let me give you something else to make you feel good.” She untangles from you, pushing up your night gown to just above your hips, leaving you exposed to the chilly air. Her glove comes off with one swift pull with her teeth, the heavy fabric dropping to the ground next to her feet. Cold fingers run down your front slowly, stopping on your chest to feel it rise and fall in quick succession as your senses came back.

“So many places to take a bite from you…” She whispers. “Oh to see you covered with marks… reminders to you of this night… will it warm you at night? Cause you to slip those pretty fingers between your thighs to take care of yourself? Or will you come running to me once more… fall into my arms, and then my bed, and then into desire?”

“To you…” You breathe out as her fingers slip ever so slowly down your stomach to the bunched-up hem of your nightgown. “You haven’t even touched me yet… yet all I know that all I will dream about is your skin against my skin… your teeth in my neck… please drink from me all you want, Soma…”

“Gods, I want you.”

“I’m right here.”

“I might not be able to control myself, love.”

“I trust you.”

Those words make her fingers run along your hips, making eye contact with you, eyes glinting in the firelight. She looks soft, despite the red eyes and blood covered mouth and chin. There’s admiration in her eyes, adoration, and she leans down to press a kiss to your left thigh, blood smearing tastefully against it.

“Then I will bring you to Valhalla and back tenfold, my love.” Your heart flutters, and her ears twitch a bit. Her tongue swipes over her teeth and lips, pulling the blood back into her mouth with a thick swallow. You hope you taste good.

Her hands pull you to the edge of the table, hiking your dress up more. You spread your legs for her, planting your feet on the edge of the table for her. Those cold fingers move between your thighs, and a shaky little gasp gets pulled from your lips. They press into your warmth, slowly, with a determination to bury themselves into you. Scars run along her fingers, creating friction against your inner walls as you squeeze her fingers.

She pushes them in and out of you, slowly, dragging them deliberately to watch you cling to her. She’s crouching before you, maybe even kneeling, eyes locked on your dripping cunt. When you glance down, all you see is the top of her head. But with the increasing speed of her digits, burying themselves to the knuckle at a harsh pace now, you don’t spend much time looking down at her.

Your fingers grip your soft thighs, spreading them open, and your head presses back against the table, moans echoing in the empty halls. You’re so close, the knot in your belly tightening as the squelching between your legs only grows more frequent. You feel Soma’s nose nudge one of your hands away from your thigh, flicking out her tongue once more to lick a strip across your flesh, edging dangerously close to your mons. She chuckles as she hears your heart rate speed up, anticipating her next moves.

She bares her fangs, slowing her fingers down to a slow, shallow rhythm. Then, she takes a bite, sinking her sharp fangs into your inner thigh. The feeling is orgasmic, both in description and actuality. The previous buildup from her fingers paired with the addicting feelings of her drinking from you makes you cum, splashing out onto her fingers, wrist, and cheek. Her name echoes in the hall from your pleasured groan and you shake, blissed out from her tasting of you.

“Oh… your blood is even more delicious down here, my sweet.” She purrs, closing your wound with a quick lick of her tongue. Her face is even more bloody, and your essence coats the side of her cheek into her hair, mixing in with your blood. “Makes me wonder what you taste like both now… and during your time of bleed.”

You look up at her, hazy and high from whatever drug has to be in vampire spit. Normally, you would question how it feels so good when she causes such pain and bloodloss, but all you care about is her handsome face covered in you. She looks good covered in you. You wanted even more of her covered in you. You wanted to be covered in you.

Nothing in your brain was making much sense.

“Shhh… it’s okay. Come down, and we can continue.” Soma promises. While she waits, she gathers you into her arms, holding you against her chest. She was so strong and soft, though so cold at the same time.

“Mmm… let me kiss you..” You whine, lifting your head up. “Kiss.”

“My love, I am covered in your blood, I do not think it’s wise-“ She stops at the look in your eyes, pleading and doe eyed. “You make me weak, do you know that?” She sighs, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips that tasted like… well it tasted like blood, but the feeling of her lips against yours made you hum with happiness. “I would give you anything that you desire.”

“You flatter me, Lord Soma.”

“Your presence here flatters me, that you have chosen me so despite my curse.”

“There is no curse here, my bat,” She groans at the nickname, “Just you. Now…” You lay back on the table, spreading your legs once more. “Dessert, Lord Soma?”

She stares down at you, hungry and in awe of you. “Dessert, yes… I might need more than one course of it.”

#monsterloving july #vampire soma #soma x reader #soma of grantebridge #not minor safe #my writing

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austerulous · 1 year

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◈ @ofspvrta

Even now, she could feel Galinn’s teeth in her hand. There were pieces of him she would never shake loose, fragments that remained splintered in her flesh, buried in the sinew of her bruised heart. His betrayal poisoned her blood, infecting her with a terrible blight of mistrust. Not even cutting his throat in retribution had offered a cure. If anything, his demise had infected the wound.

Soma moved through the raucous merrymakers, set apart even in the crowd. Loneliness stalked her through the longhall, but purpose drove her forwards. Pricked by fury, bleeding from wounds that were invisible to the naked eye. Duty over joy, always. The needs of many over the few, over her own personal desires.

Eivor Varinsdottir was a generous host. Wood smoke softened the stale stink of spilt ale, of fire-roast meat, of piss, of blood. This hallowed space hummed with conversation and discordant bursts of song. Displaced, the Lord of Grantebridge was drawn to another who was alone among the revelry.

“Kassandra, isn’t it?” Soma made it her business to know names, to remember faces. Eivor had pointed the traveller out to her, explaining that she had chosen to rest her road-weary bones in Ravensthorpe. “You have chosen well – few halls offer as warm a welcome as this one. A fine place to rest, to roost among the ravens.”

#i hope this works! ♡#let's goooo #◈ — ic; soma #ofspvrta

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mass-convergence · 2 years

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Headcanons about the sexuality/lack-there-of of Soma under the cut. It’s entirely SFW but I just am an anxiety riddled potato who’s gotten/seen blowback in the past over shit like this so yeah.

Aro-ace lesbian Soma. I don’t know why but after watching some more playthroughs of her mission and stuff ... I just have gotten that vibe from her so I’m running with it. I mean it could be me projecting but what are fictional characters for if not to project your shit onto?

Most of her heart has been taken up by her love of Grantebridge but that doesn’t mean she has no space to love another

She also just really has never had much interest/never gave being in a relationship like that much thought?

She is def aesthetically and platonically attracted to women. Like shit, I’ve seen the way she looks at Eivor. Granted I think everyone regardless of sexuality has heart eyes for Eivor “I’m Sexy and I Know It” Varinsdottir.

But say you (making this a reader-insert just for the sake of simplicity) were in a long-term committed relationship with the lord of Grantebridge:

She’d definitely be a caring, compassionate, and somewhat doting partner. Like aro people don’t have interest in romantic relationships (in the most simple, basic definition of the term) but it doesn’t mean that they can’t love people.

After a long day of whatever you do as a job ... she’d totally massage your sore shoulders and ask you about your day

Sometimes you’re the one rubbing her shoulders and beckoning her to bed as she sits at her desk, up late at night reading over missives from other lords and requests from her people

She is affectionate, maybe not with loud and grand romantic gestures but she still does little things that make you feel good and appreciated. She’ll greet you in the morning with a kiss and maybe a cuddle in bed before you both have to get up for the day

After she comes back from a battle... once her drengr’s wounds have been taken care of and once the celebration in the longhouse has since died down and everyone is passed out drunk on the floor ... you take her into her private chambers and patch up her own injuries (because you know she hides that shit from everyone and used to take care of it on her own until you came along)

Gods help any poor soul who hurts you or wrongs you in some way. She will tear apart the countryside to find them and wreak bloody vengeance.

#headcanons: aro-ace #why am I posting this if I'm afraid of people sending me hate over a blorbo ... idk maybe I have a little more faith in current tumblr #a *little* more faith #look if it's not clear enough - I headcanon Soma as an aro-ace lesbian #make of that what you will #I certainly have made a lot of it #also I tried to look up stuff about aro relationships and stuff #and I'm also going by what I experience as someone who may actually be a touch aro myself #I'm still exploring that side of myself #soma #soma jarlskona

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eivorthehighone · 2 years

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@somamylittleobsession here you go my friend, my gift to you.

Your not the only one who ships them

#ac valhalla #assassin creed #assassinscreedvalhalla #eivor #eivor varinsdóttir #eivor wolfkissed #female eivor #lady eivor #badass female eivor #female eivor supremacy #draugr tattoo eivor #eivor of the raven clan #ac soma #eivor x soma #i love soma so much #soma jarlskona #song of soma #eivor the thunder raven #lord of grantebridge

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bunnyandgoose · 3 years

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more AC Valhalla headcanons

(as you read you’ll see i’ve elected to ignore that some of these characters died in canon so....)

Eivor and Randvi confessed their feelings for each other but didn’t act on them. but then in Valhalla, Sigurd admits he knew about Eivor and Randvi the whole time. (they aren’t very subtle in the way they look at each other) and he stays in Norway with his father. he finds love with that Sefa girl from when he was a kid.

Rosta doesn’t die and goes to England with the Raven Clan. After Eivor becomes Jarl, whenever she is away the clan look to either Rosta or Randvi. (in all of my AUs Rosta will most likely live. i simp too hard for her.)

Ravensthorpe is constantly growing. what was once just a little forest is now an entire town. the borders of Grantebridge and Ledecestre are constantly being pushed back.

If Soma is Jarlskona and Lord of Grantebridge, does that make Eivor officially the “Lord of Ravensthorpe” and therefore make Randvi the Lady of Ravensthorpe?

Vili, Birna, Rollo, Finnr and Oskar (my Jomsviking) never call Randvi by her name. they always refer to her as “Jarlskona” or “My Lady.”

After the whole thing with in Jorvik, Ljufvina and Hjorr came to Ravensthorpe and are a part of the council.

Most of the adults that left for england with Sigurd and Eivor were from Varin’s Clan. like Gunnar and Tekla.

Valka, Tove and Eivor and Einar grew up together in Varin’s Clan. (the bear or wolf clan)

Valka and Eivor definitely have an on/off relationship. it’s not a secret that she and Eivor are sleeping together. (thanks to Dag’s big mouth)

Randvi has four brothers and an older sister. Randvi is the fourth born out of six.

Randvi and Eivor travel back to Norway one last time when Randvi gets word that her father is ill. Nessa takes them on her boat, saying that she’s never seen the Northern Lights. they come back with the rest of Randvi’s family after her father dies. Her brother tells her that they wanted to go to England as soon as they heard that the Ravens had left but their father didn’t want to leave.

Eivor learns that Randvi was a wild child. always playing in the dirt with her younger brother, all scraped knees and tangled hair. “And they call me reckless”

Randvi has never lost a game of Orlog.

Eivor hates chickens. Vili wastes no time in telling Randvi about the chicken incident when they were teenagers.

Sunniva and Vili got together while in Snotingham. their relationship was no secret but Eivor literally had no idea until like 6 months later.

She thought Sunniva and Norvid were together, turns out they’re cousins.

Ravensthorpe has a small church. “The Saxons here respect our culture, it’s only right that we respect theirs as well”

CEOLBERT LIVES IN RAVENSTHORPE and is Randvi’s right hand man

when the Norsemen went to Snotingham for Hemming Jarl’s funeral, Ceolbert was left in charge as Randvi attended as well. (because Sigurd was lost in his visions)

Ceolbert is best friends with Eluric, who relocated to Ravensthorpe partly because he didn’t like being seen as “the Eldorman’s bastard”

there’s many more children in Ravensthorpe now. Eivor adopts all those orphans she meets.

As Ravensthorpe expands, so does the Longhouse.

#acv #eivor wolfkissed #eivor varinsdóttir #eivor wolfsmal #randvi #ravensthorpe #headcanons

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caernua · 3 years

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i think u speak for everyone when u petition for an uncut soma romance. but i think i saw someone on my dash a whiiiiile back say that she was written as aromantic? could be why it was sorta coded to make the two of them look appealing. we as a community must be punished for our super gay crimes and that means making us yearn for a romance with our lovely lord of grantebridge

oh?? i never heard of that. if that’s the case, it’s sweet, i only wish they would have said it outright. 😔 we got bonked and sent to horny jail, yet again ♡

#anonymous #asks

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hysterialevi · 3 years

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Eitr | Chapter 2

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

FORANGAL CASTLE, WEDENSCIRE

MORNING

Hurrying down the steps of the castle as her dress frolicked around her legs, Lady Edlynne rushed to catch up with her brothers before they could scurry off into town without her, and leave her at the mercy of Bishop Hundwerth once again.

Apparently, the head chef of the castle was in need of some trout for the meal she had planned for this evening, but instead of relying on one of her servants like she normally did, the ealdorman’s sons had offered to fetch it for her, and were preparing to leave from the main gate.

Unfortunately for Edlynne however, her name had been left out of their festivities as per usual, and thus left the girl at a disadvantage considering how she only learned of their plans mere moments ago.

But this time, she was not willing to stay back as she normally did. The dreary walls of the castle had caged her in for far too long already, and with Hundwerth constantly hammering his piety in her ears, the young noblewoman was in desperate need of some fresh air.

Jogging up to the main gate, Edlynne found her brothers conversing at the stable as they readied their horses for the journey ahead, giving them a light snack to start off the new day.

Her twin brother, Joseph, was currently sat on top of a rather wobbly looking fence with an apple in his hand, but seemed to fare alright thanks to his lean frame. He was only a boy of sixteen years and hardly stood any taller than his sister, but even then, some still considered him to be particularly scrawny for a nobleman.

As for their elder brother, Edric, his appearance was more akin to that of a soldier than a lord. Despite not even being thirty years of age yet, the young man already had his fair share of battle scars and sported a rough beard, giving him a much more weathered temperament than his father probably would’ve liked.

He constantly carried a sword around with him and armored himself with a black gambeson, but still made sure that the cross hanging from his neck was visible underneath the collar of his cape.

Both of them were a welcome sight to see after Edlynne’s many days of being trapped in the castle, but with the absence of their eldest brother Gareth looming over them like a stormy cloud, she couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sadness suddenly gripping at her heart.

“Joseph, Edric!” She exclaimed, running up to them. “Wait!”

The two boys turned their heads towards her, clearly surprised to see her face this morning.

“Sister,” Joseph greeted, “I didn’t expect to see you here today. It’s been ages since I last saw you out in the sun. Will you be joining us in town?”

Edlynne sighed out of annoyance. “God, I hope so. Bishop Hundwerth hasn’t dared take his eyes off me ever since I spoke of my interest in the Danes’ religion. He fears that their influence will corrupt me.”

Edric chuckled at that. “You thinking of converting to paganism, Edlynne?”

“Hardly,” she denied. “I will always be a Christian at heart, but I do not think it is wrong to have an interest in other religions either. How can we expect to resolve the conflict in our shire if we will not even attempt to understand our enemies?”

Joseph took a bite out of his apple. “Well, some people would consider that to be heresy.”

Edlynne crossed her arms. “Some people would see us at war for another century.”

The eldest threw a grin at his brother. “You hear that, Joseph? Wise beyond her years, this one. We should give her a seat next to father.”

Edlynne smiled in response. “You jest, but I’ll have you know that father has sought my counsel in the past. He spoke to me last night, in fact. Though... it’s not very often he actually listens to me, I’ll admit.”

Joseph hopped off the fence. “Well, whatever you do, just make sure he doesn’t hear of your fascination with the Danes. You know of his feelings for them.”

The girl’s expression drooped with sorrow. “Yes, I do. He’s changed so much ever since... well, you know.”

Falling into a state of heartache, the young woman quickly snapped out of her grief when she realized how she had dampened the mood and forced herself to push her thoughts aside, not wanting them to overtake her again.

“But... let us not dwell on that. You two have a busy day ahead of you, and my chances of getting any fresh air dwindle with every minute Hundwerth isn’t near me. So let’s get going.”

Edric climbed on top of his horse, taking hold of the reins. “Alright. Edlynne, you go with Joseph. I’ll take my own mount. We’ll ride the path west of here, and cut through the woods into Agenbury. It’ll take longer, but the main roads are laden with soldiers nowadays. I’d rather not weave my way through them.”

Taking a seat behind her brother as he plopped himself onto the saddle, Edlynne wrapped her arms around Joseph’s waist and held him tightly as the three of them began trotting through the main gate, bidding the castle farewell.

It was a bright morning today, blotted with only a few clouds. The sun shone freely throughout the sky despite the residue from the recent storm, and thanks to the rain that poured on Wedenscire the previous night, a fresh layer of mist hung over the land, catching the light in a fashion that was worthy of paintings.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Edlynne remarked. “And also much colder than I remember. Though, that’s probably due to the storm. Still, it’s nice to be outside of the castle walls again. I can’t recall the last time father allowed me to leave. Thank you both for letting me come with you.”

“Of course,” Joseph replied. “I fear that Edric and I were also in need of some time away from Forangal. That’s why we volunteered to help Nelda. The poor old woman’s practically locked herself in the larder this morning, trying to prepare this meal for us.”

“How is Nelda?” Edlynne asked. “I’ve not spoken to her in ages.”

“Oh, you know her,” Joseph said sarcastically. “Cranky, old bat as usual. Still the same woman that used to chase us around the castle after we’d steal the treats when we were children.”

Edric butted in. “And then blame me for it.”

Joseph laughed at that. “Do you remember that one time Edlynne and I brought in that stray cat from the streets? And we accidentally left it alone in the kitchens? The wretched animal had buried its face in a meal she was making for father, and sent it spilling all over to the floor. I thought Nelda was going to butcher us all that day -- cat included.”

“Oh, don’t remind me. She dragged the two of you fools over to me later that day and shouted with a fury so hot that I could’ve sworn I saw flames on her breath. Gareth had to calm her down whilst we ended up cleaning the kitchen.”

Edlynne smiled at the memory. “Gareth always had a way with Nelda. He knew how to ease her temper.”

“Indeed,” Joseph said. “Though, I think he had that effect on everyone. Something about him always brought peace to other peoples’ hearts. He knew how to unify them in times of division, and comfort them in times of war.”

A morose sigh escaped the sullen boy. “Things will... not be the same without him around. I know it’s been over a month since he died, but... I fear the wounds are still fresh.”

“Aye.” Edric agreed quietly. “He was a good brother to us all. And an even better friend. It was a tragic loss, the day he died. I think father’s taken the brunt of it.”

A sudden thought crossed the man’s mind. “Edlynne, you said you spoke with him last night?”

The girl nodded. “I did.”

“And... how did he seem? Did he seem better to you?”

Edlynne stuttered, unsure of how to describe their encounter. “I... I don’t know, to be honest. He appeared to be doing alright, but it felt like he was wearing a mask. As if... he was simply putting on a strong face for everyone else’s sake. Deep down though, I think he’s still hurting.”

“Of course he is,” Edric noted. “He lost one of his children. It’s a parent’s worst nightmare.”

Joseph raised a question. “What exactly happened to Gareth, anyway? I know he was killed near Grantebridge, but father has yet to give us any further details.”

“That’s because you would not wish to hear them,” his brother explained. “Believe me. All you need to know is that a clan of Danes killed him. The Raven Clan, specifically.”

The name was unfamiliar to Edlynne. “The Raven Clan? Who are they?”

“You haven’t heard of them? They’ve been causing quite a stir in Mercia -- killing kings and crowning new ones. From what I understand, they’re the ones who helped the Ragnarssons remove Burgred from his throne.”

“But why kill Gareth?” Joseph asked. “What could they possibly gain from killing the son of an ealdorman? Aside from a lifetime of conflict, that is.”

Edric sighed solemnly. “I do not know their reasons, nor their justifications. But you would do well not to get caught up on it. All that matters now is that Gareth is at peace. He was a devote Christian, and he now joins our mother in Heaven, forever to be at God’s side. He would not want us to sulk. So keep your chins up -- both of you -- and let us carry on with our day.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

AGENBURY

Finally arriving at Agenbury, the three siblings slowed down to a halt as the peaceful settlement came into view, decorating the flat horizon with a quaint series of houses and shops.

The quiet town seemed to be the same as usual -- lunatics and all -- and despite the hefty toll the war had taken on its people, everything appeared to be in working order.

The fisherman’s wife, Ardith, remained attached to her husband’s stall as always, and with the unpleasant stench of freshly-captured fish to start off her morning, the permanent scowl on her face only seemed to deepen.

“There’s Ardith,” Edric pointed out. “She’ll have the trout we need.” He climbed off of his horse, leaving it near the main entrance. “Come along then, you two. Let’s finish this quickly.”

Mirroring their brother’s actions, Joseph and Edlynne unmounted their horse before following the young man into town, hanging behind him as he navigated his way through the scattered groups of civilians.

Many of the town’s residents seemed to eye the noble family with a wary gaze -- which was uncommon for their people -- and the further they stepped into the watchful settlement, the more everyone’s voices seemed to lower into hushed tones.

“Is it just me,” Joseph whispered among them, “or does it feel... odd here today?”

Edlynne narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “No, it’s definitely not just you. The people here seem frightened. It’s almost like the whole town is... waiting for something. Do you reckon something happened before we arrived?”

“It’s most likely because of the war,” Edric assumed. “I know the conflicts in Wedenscire have had a rough impact on these people. Who knows what kind of horrors they’ve had to endure at the hands of the Danes? Though... there don’t seem to be any signs of a raid.”

Joseph disagreed. “If there had been a raid, we would’ve heard about it. This is something different.”

“I suppose we’ll find out, given enough time. Just keep your wits about you, and try not to alarm anyone.”

Carrying on with their plans, the three of them casually walked up to Ardith’s stall as the woman focused on organizing her collection of fish, stopping only to greet the peculiar customers that had suddenly shown up at her shop.

“Hello, Ardith.” Edric said, deterring the woman’s attention.

“Oh, good morning, milord!” She said in surprise. “I was not expecting to see you here today. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m just here to pick up some trout for Nelda back at the castle.”

The stout woman rested a hand on her hip. “Ah, I see. Normally, it’s her servants that come by, but I won’t turn away a friendly face.”

Her expression grew dim. “I’m... so sorry about what happened to Gareth, Edric. We received the news not too long ago. He was loved by many people in Agenbury. It’s such a shame that he had to depart from this world in so brutal a manner. He will be missed.”

Edric nodded in agreement. “Indeed. His death has affected us all, I fear.”

“And Aegenwulf? How does your father fare?”

The young man shrugged in uncertainty. “Hard to say. He keeps his head high and does what he must to protect this shire, but he bears the burdens of twenty men combined. I do not envy his position.”

Ardith gave him a look of sympathy. “Aye. But have no fear, Edric. Your father’s always been a fighter. Trust me. I’ve known him since before he had any grey in his hair. He will come through. I know he will.”

“Thank you, friend. Your words bring me comfort.”

Joseph jumped into the conversation, inquiring about the rest of the town. “Ardith, do you have any idea why Agenbury’s so on edge today? The town carries a strange mood.”

The woman nearly offered a response, but bit her tongue in hesitance. “Y-Yes, but I do not wish to burden you with our troubles, young lord. I imagine you’ve enough of your own already.”

Edlynne took a step towards the stall. “Please, Ardith. If something has happened in this town, we’d like to help. You’re our people, after all.”

Ardith let out a deep sigh and crossed her arms, glancing back at her house.

“I-It’s my husband, Wilfred,” she said quietly. “He went fishing at the harbor this morning as he always does, but... instead of returning with a sack of fish, he came back with a bloody Dane...!”

Edric paused in alarm upon hearing that. “What? A Dane? In Agenbury?”

“Believe me, I was just as shocked as you. Apparently, Wilfred found him washed up on the shore, beaten and wounded. By whom or what, I don’t know, but he already looked dead by the time my husband dragged him back.”

Joseph decided to ask for more information. “Do you have any idea who he is? Or where he came from?”

Ardith shook her head. “No. We’ve yet to speak to him. He’s been unconscious ever since Wilfred brought him back from the harbor.”

The boy let out an uneasy breath. “Father’s not going to like this. He’s been tense enough already ever since Gareth died. If he finds out that a Dane has infiltrated the town...”

Edlynne cut him off. “He won’t. Not yet.”

Her twin quirked a brow. “What do you mean, not yet? He’s the ealdorman, for God’s sake. He has to know.”

“We can’t tell him about this. Not for the moment, at least. If father learns about this Dane’s presence, he’ll have him killed for sure.”

Edric scowled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

The noblewoman remained staunch in her belief. “Listen, both of you -- I know everyone’s still hurting from Gareth’s death, and believe me, I am too. But we could learn something from this Dane. He might be useful to us.”

Edric wasn’t entirely convinced yet. “We don’t even know if this man speaks our tongue, Edlynne. And if he does, there’s no guarantee he’ll help us anyways. You know the Danes. They’d rather pick death over dishonor.”

“Even then, I’d like to be certain of what this man’s intentions are before we start lopping off anyone’s heads. Let me speak to him, at least.”

Edric sighed in defeat, crossing his arms. “...Very well. If that is what you wish. But be careful, sister. We have no idea who this man is. And I’d rather we return to the castle in one piece.”

The young man turned back to Ardith, trying to calm the woman’s nerves. “Have no fear, old friend. We’ll speak to this Dane for you. He need not worry you any longer.”

She seemed pleased with that. “Thank you, Edric. I think everyone would feel better if we knew who he was, or why he was here. He should still be at home.”

“Then I will go there,” Edlynne said. “Joseph can come with me whilst you conclude your business here, brother. That way, we can get things done faster.”

“Alright,” Edric agreed. “I’ll meet you there once I’m finished here. Don’t do anything drastic before I arrive.”

The girl gave him a reassuring nod. “Of course.” She turned to her twin, beckoning him to follow. “Come on, Joseph. Let’s go see this Dane for ourselves.”

Allowing their paths to diverge for the moment, Edlynne and Joseph made their way to Wilfred’s house while Edric stayed behind to collect the fish for Nelda, clearly still unsettled by the strange turn of events.

He understood it was unfair to judge one Dane based on the actions of many others, but in a time of war, compassion and empathy were always a dangerous thing to gamble with.

Edric knew details about Gareth’s death that the twins didn’t. He knew how the Danes had butchered him and left his body for the ravens, and he knew that their people were not so easily negotiated with.

But still... he supposed he could let Edlynne investigate this Dane’s sudden appearance, at the very least. He may have been skeptical of this man’s motivations, but he could not deny that he was curious to learn the truth for himself.

And so, without another word said, Edric simply let the twins go about their business as he continued his conversation with Ardith, eager to get this errand over with.

Meanwhile, Edlynne and Joseph walked side-by-side as they approached the fisherman’s house, speculating amongst themselves about what this Dane could’ve possibly wanted. It wasn’t uncommon for a Northman to be in Wedenscire exactly, but Agenbury was a different story.

“A single Dane showing up on our shores...” Edlynne murmured, “what could it mean?”

Joseph shrugged nervously. “Nothing good, that’s for certain. I’m aware that not all of them are barbarians as Hundwerth would have us believe, but tensions have been rising ever since Gareth was killed. If we don’t sort this situation out properly, it could reach a breaking point.”

“Then let us make haste, lest it comes to that.”

Strolling up to the fisherman’s front door, Joseph firmly knocked on the wooden surface as the two of them waited for a response, silently observing the quiet house.

There didn’t seem to be much activity happening inside -- probably due to the Dane’s unconscious state -- and the only sounds they could hear were the rapid footsteps of a man coming to greet them at the door.

“Pardon my untidiness, whoever you are,” a gruff voice said from the inside as they moved around some objects to clear the way, “but I fear things have been rather... disorderly this morning.”

The fisherman swung open the door, revealing an old but lively man standing in the entryway.

“Now, then, how can I--” He came to a halt, his eyes widening in surprise upon seeing the twins.

“Lord Joseph...! And sweet Lady Edlynne. Well, I certainly didn’t expect to see you two here today. I suppose this morning’s just chock-full of unlikely guests, isn’t it? What brings you to my doorstep?”

Joseph beamed at the elderly man. “Hello, Wilfred. Your wife sent us. She said you had a... Dane problem?

Wilfred scratched the bald patch on his head, sighing in discontent. “Aye. The poor bastard. I found him this morning, lying unconscious and alone. He was laden with battle wounds, and covered in blood. I don’t have a clue why the river shat him out in Agenbury of all places, but I wasn’t about to leave a man to die. Saxon or not.”

Edlynne admired his compassion. “Then you’ve already done more than most. Has he woken up yet?”

“Nay. He’s been out cold ever since I brought him back. He spoke briefly when we first met, but it was mostly out of delirium. Couldn’t understand a word he said. You know the Danes. Bloody weird language, they have.”

“May we see him?” Joseph asked. “We’d like to speak with this man ourselves, if possible.”

Wilfred stepped off to the side, granting them entrance. “Of course. Do what you wish. Though, I’m not sure if he’ll wake up during your stay here. He was in a severely bad state when I found him.”

Strolling through the front door, Joseph and Edlynne welcomed themselves into the cozy atmosphere of Wilfred’s home as they gazed around in curiosity, anxious to see what this Dane looked like.

Joseph had already met a few of their people during his time with Edric and Gareth, but Edlynne on the other hand, had yet to meet a Dane for herself. Aegenwulf often kept them at a distance when it came to interactions with his daughter, and now that he had lost one of his own children to their axes, the girl imagined he would only grow more protective.

“Look,” she said with a soft gasp, “there he is.”

Following his sister’s line of sight, Joseph spotted the fallen Dane sleeping on the opposite side of the room, seemingly undisturbed.

He was currently resting on a makeshift bed that Wilfred had created, and was wrapped head-to-toe in an abundance of bandages. He looked like he was still breathing -- for the time being -- but just based on the amount of blood that was already seeping from his skin, Joseph started to wonder if they’d even get a chance to see him wake.

He appeared rather normal though, the boy thought. For a Dane. His skin was etched with many traditional Nordic markings, and the red hair on his head had been shaved in a fashion common with his people. Meanwhile, his beard remained bushy and untamed, and the calloused texture of his hands told Joseph he was no stranger to battle.

“Friendly looking fellow, isn’t he.” The boy remarked.

Edlynne walked closer to the man, driven by her fascination.

“I’ve... never seen a Dane before. Father has always done his best to keep me away from them, but... he looks surprisingly human. Bishop Hundwerth always makes it sound as if they’re the Devil himself roaming the earth.”

Joseph took a seat on a nearby chair. “Bishop Hundwerth would call it heresy if one of his priests farted too loudly in the chapel. Pay him no mind.”

The noblewoman turned back to the fisherman, asking him more questions.

“Wilfred, what was he like when you found him? I know you said he was hurt, but... how hurt, exactly?”

The old man exhaled deeply, crossing his arms. “Let’s just say I’m surprised he was alive to begin with. He had two bloody arrows sticking out of his chest, and his skin was torn up from getting sliced so many times. I don’t know much about their pagan gods, but they must be a protective bunch to pull him out of that.”

Joseph thought back to their talk with Ardith. “Your wife said you found him on the shore?”

“Indeed. I assume the river carried him here from upstream. Possibly from the north. He crawled out of it like a corpse rising from the dead.”

“Do you think he’ll live?”

Wilfred furrowed his brow in a grim manner. “I... I don’t know, Joseph. I’ve done everything I can to patch him up, but I’m just a simple fisherman at the end of the day. I’m no healer.”

Interrupting their conversation, a knock suddenly emitted from the door, leading all of them to bring their attention to the entrance.

“That must be Edric.” Joseph announced.

Allowing their new guest to come in, Wilfred stepped over the many items scattered around the house before opening the door, revealing Edric on the other side.

“Ah, hello, milord. Your siblings are here already.”

The young man poked his head in, greeting the twins with a new sack of fish on his shoulder.

“Well?” He said, walking into the house. “Have you two learned anything?”

Joseph shook his head. “Not much, I’m afraid. We’re fairly certain the river carried the Dane here from upstream, but other than that... all we have is speculation.”

Edric strode towards them, kneeling beside his sister. “Speculation won’t do us any good. We need to know for sure who he is, and what he wants. I assume he hasn’t woken up yet?”

“No. He’s been unconscious this whole time. We don’t even know if he’ll survive.”

Wilfred joined their side, offering his advice to Edric. “As I was explaining to your brother earlier, milord, the only way this Dane is going to survive is if you get him in the hands of a healer. I’ve done what I can to buy him some time, but... without proper medical treatment, I fear he may pass soon.”

Edlynne’s expression lit up with an idea. “Linette! Back at the castle! She could look after him. She knows what she’s doing.”

The look on Edric’s face alone was enough to make his disapproval clear. “What? You want to bring a Dane back to the castle? After what just happened with Gareth?”

“I know it’s risky,” the young woman conceded, “but he’s dying, Edric. He needs our help.”

“So do many of our own people.” He countered. “We need to save our resources for those we can trust; those who will fight for us. Not stray Danes that wash up on our shores.”

Edlynne almost appeared offended at that. “Brother, do you hear yourself? This man’s life is in our hands, and you’re willing to just throw it away? All because he’s a Dane?”

The older man fell silent for a moment, admittedly feeling somewhat ashamed of his words, but still obstinate in his opinion.

“I know it’s harsh, Edlynne, but you’ve not seen the horrors that have occurred between our people and the Danes. We’d be foolish to trust one, especially when we have no idea who he is. There’s also the fact that we’d have to keep his presence a secret. Until he wakes up, at least.”

“I think it’s worth it if it means we can save a life,” she replied. “I understand your fear, brother, but what sort of Christians would we be if simply stood by and watched this man die? His being a pagan doesn’t make him any less deserving of our help.”

Edric grew frustrated with his sister’s naivety. “It’s not just about the religion, Edlynne. It’s also about the war. There’s no love lost between Saxons and Danes, and for good reason. How do you think our friend here is going to react when he wakes up in a foreign castle, surrounded by hostile forces?”

The young woman frowned. “And what if he has a clan? What if they come looking for him? How do you think they’ll react when they find out we simply left him to die?”

Joseph shrugged in agreement. “She raises a fair point, Edric. If we help this man and he turns out to hate the Saxons, so what? We’ll have a castle full of guardsmen fighting against a single Dane. But if we don’t help him and his clan comes looking for him, we’ll have an entire army to deal with, plus anyone who’s allied with them. I say we bring him back. How much harm could he do in this condition, anyways?”

Edric sighed in defeat, finding himself at a loss for words. He really wasn’t fond of the idea of bringing a stranger back into the midst of their home -- especially when that stranger was a viking -- but deep down, he knew it was the right thing to do.

After all, what good was he as a Christian if he was not even willing to help those in need? He may have distrusted the Danes for their crimes in the past, but on the other hand, he had no way of indicating that this particular man had any similar motives.

For all he knew, this could’ve just been some poor soul who had gotten caught in the crossfire, and left for dead. There was nothing that could prove he had any intentions of doing wrong by their people, and... perhaps it would’ve been cruel to assume otherwise without even giving him a chance to wake up.

“...Alright, you two.” Edric finally said. “We’ll bring the Dane back to the castle.”

Edlynne beamed with appreciation. “You mean it?”

“Yes, but this will not bode well with father.”

Joseph dismissed the warning. “Father is blinded by his grief. He’ll understand eventually.”

Edric stood up from the floor and handed the sack of trout to his brother, giving him a new set of instructions.

“Here, take this. Ride back to Forangal. I’ll bring the Dane with me, and meet you two at Linette’s clinic later.”

Joseph groaned in effort as he lugged the sack over his shoulder, surprised at how heavy it was.

“Sounds good. Stay safe on the way back, brother. We promise not to tell father about this.”

“Good.”

Bringing his attention to Wilfred, Edric took out a few pieces of silver and placed them in the man’s hands, giving him an appreciative nod.

“Here, Wilfred. For your troubles.”

The fisherman smiled warmly. “Thank you, Edric. You’re far too kind.”

The nobleman chuckled. “My sister would disagree.”

Making their way out of Wilfred’s house, the siblings finally took their leave from Agenbury and swiftly returned to the stables, eager to ride back to the castle. They had no idea how well they’d be able to keep this a secret, considering all the prying eyes at Forangal, but the three of them were determined to ensure this man’s survival.

He could’ve been the key to all the conflicts that had arisen in Wedenscire. So many fights had broken out in the past few years between their people and the Danes, that a part of Edlynne hoped their new friend’s presence would help to ease the tensions.

Though, she couldn’t help but wonder if her elder brother was right. What if Edric turned out to be correct, and this Dane only ended up causing more trouble? Was it wise to trust a man so blindly?

Probably not, but that didn’t hinder her desire to help the wounded man. He was completely at their mercy in his current condition, and Edlynne did not have the heart to cast him aside, regardless of the risks.

So, with a nervous heart, the young woman simply followed her brothers out of town and prepared herself for the journey ahead, praying that it would not end in more bloodshed. She knew how adamant their father was in his hatred for Danes, and she hoped that he would be able to see past the grief that still held onto him so tightly.

Gareth would’ve vouched for peace, after all. He always favored the diplomatic route over unnecessary violence, and in light of recent events, Edlynne imagined he would’ve wanted them to save this man too.

It was the only right thing to do, Edlynne thought. And she did not intend diminish her brother’s legacy.

#assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #male oc #female oc #sigurd x male oc #ac valhalla fanfic #eitr

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shadxwcd · 3 years

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@ofmisthios requested a SOMA starter for KASSANDRA!

Word had spread and spread quickly of an unusual traveller entering Grantebridgescire. Now traders were not uncommon but her complexion and accent were not usual. Right now traders, again, were thinning in their population. As ever knowledge of Grantebridge as a trade centre had brought forth bandits, and this time a greater population than they were used to.

Soma worried for alliances between them, or the Saxons, being made and another raid on the city. So word of this new traveller taking care of one of the camps for them. She had sent for men to come and summon her to the longhouse, where she could determine their reward, and motives.

“Ah our bandit-slayer. If you plan on doing more of that, Grantebridge would be delighted to keep you around.” She said, standing from her Lord’s chair to come forward and greet them.

“Who are you?”

#. | dedicated to the people (soma)#. | beloved leader (grantebridge)#ofmisthios

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kassandras-one-braincell · 2 years

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My love for Soma continues to grow beyond what’s reasonable for a cluster of pixels, and it’s always Birna’s tales that catalyse it:

❝ Soma of Grantebridge. For a time, all the ealdormen of England wanted her dead. A bounty on her head the size of Yggdrasil.

She met with the leader of the South Gyrwans and told their King Roffe, “Say that you killed me. Proclaim it to all the lands.”

Roffe answered, “No one will believe me.” And Soma shook her head.

“Invite them. Here. You will burn me on a pyre for all to see.”

So they came, the nobles of East Anglia, north and south, of Mercia, of Wessex. They wished to see Guthrum’s Valkyrie die. Before all, King Roffe pronounced her guilty of murder and sentenced her to death. Then they put her on a boat and sit it afire.

Yet Soma had constructed a trap beneath the pyre. She released herself into the murky waters and swam to a bramble. Muddied and wet, she waited in the thorns for night to fall. She then returned to Cambridge as a shadow-walker.

She entered the city and stole into the king’s chamber, and took the head of Roffe, shouting, “Traitors of Soma wear no heads!”

The Saxons thought Soma a ghost! A spirit who kills! A curse invincible to fire and death! What a leader, my Soma. ❞

Like holy shit she’s so intelligent and can be downright feral. People literally thought she was inhuman for a time?? She was known as Guthrum’s Valkyrie - a literal harbinger of death - before that? And Wigmund really thought it was a smart idea to try and conquer that??? I love her.

Here’s a shitty splice of the story in-game. Under the cut to hide its ugliness.

#the things i would let that woman do to me #guthrum's fucking valkyrie #soma jarlskona #lord of grantebridge

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unhingedsappho · 1 year

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ok is it just me or does this hero card from this app game i play have major soma vibes

#soma #assassins creed soma #assassins creed valhalla #soma jarlskona #lord of grantebridge

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austerulous · 1 year

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◈ @warmaiidens

In the cold light of dawn, a silver-black fox had weaved through the mist, slinking along the riverbank on velvet paws. The sleepless eyes of Soma – who invariably retired late and rose early – had watched the strange-coloured creature, seeing in it an omen. It wasn’t until later in the day, when that same gaze beheld Eivor riding triumphant through the gates of Grantebridge, that the lord understood the significance, recognised the fox had been a foretoken of a friend’s arrival.

A tight smile that played on her lips, warm and sincere despite its brevity. Grief was a cloak Soma could not take off, distrust a weight she could not wriggle from beneath. Still, the sight of Eivor brought with her a moment of respite. Here was one of the golden few she could rely on, one whose company remained effortless. A pleasure, even.

“Your visit was foretold, Eivor Wolf-Kissed, though I failed to read the signs.” Soma raised a gloved hand, shielding her eyes from the syrupy shine of late morning light. Varinsdottir towered above her, astride her towering steed. “Are you saddle-sore, or do you have another ride in you? A mil out and a mil back is all I ask.”

#sorry for the wait!#i hope this works ♡#a mil is about six miles apparently #◈ — ic; soma #warmaiidens

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mass-convergence · 1 year

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For the end of the year ask! 8, 14, 20 and 25?

8. Game of the year? - Valheim. Definitely Valheim. It's such a beautiful game with amazing crafting/building mechanics and you get to be a viking that runs around punching deer to death in the meadows. There's really not much to dislike about that game aside from the absolute grind.

14. Favorite book you read this year? - Bold of you to assume I have the attention span to read an entire book. But I have started reading Fire Logic by Laurie J Marks and it is delightfully gay with a lot of women with swords. And I have been assured that the gays do not die stupid and pointlessly tragic deaths.

20. What’s something you learned this year? - Learned a lot on account of still starting out with my job. Most importantly I learned how to use the software we use to make our forecasts. Outside of work ... I learned how to sew which I hope to use that skill more and make my own tunics and stuff for historical reenactments.

25. Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one. - Aside from my small army of self-inserts. Someone I created was Ratha for one of my AC Valhalla fics exploring Soma as an aroace lesbian. While I'm still not 100% comfortable writing her - she's a blacksmith in Grantebridge who Soma took in after finding her half dead on a battlefield. They strike up a very close friendship and definitely will become platonic life partners at some point. And it's also a fix-it fic because I don't understand why the fuck Soma doesn't have like at least chainmail if not something more substantial and stab proof.

Like yeah it was expensive af but she's literally the lord of a city that's ostensibly a successful trading hub in the area (fuck it becomes Cambridge in the future). Like as much as I'm sure she doesn't want to become like one of those nobles that just shit on their subjects and she wants to be down in the rough with all her men and be a good ally to Eivor.

She would or should at least be wearing some kind of mail or scale or lamellar armor (Also like Eivor can get the fancy ass fantasy style armor so Soma can at least get something historically accurate for a battle that's not whatever the fuck that leather vest is). And I'd argue that a viking age sword wasn't really designed to pierce through chainmail yet* - probably would have seriously ruined her day and knocked her out of commission but she'd probably be alive.

I just have a lot of opinions on the direction they took with her and really all the women in this franchise okay?

*- Chainmail is definitely weaker to piercing damage. Rapiers, longswords, and daggers were specifically designed later on to have thin tips so as to get between the links of maille and break them apart. I've seen that some Viking age swords had rather fat tips which would be more difficult in piercing the links of mail from what I understand of the matter. Also like ... it's fanfic I can write whatever I want.

Please don't get me started on lamellar or scale armor - which, side note, I'd definitely like to try my hand at making one of these days.

#Give Soma chainmail challenge 2k22 #end of year asks #mass answers shit #Yeah if the saxons went after her with spears she may have had a harder time while wearing chainmail #but the dudes came at her with swords #if she had mail she likely would have made it out of that battle alive #So fuck you Ubisoft

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eivorthehighone · 2 years

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[Spoiler Alret, if u didn’t play the game]

Every time i see this, i always start crying 😢

#ac valhalla #assassin creed #assassinscreedvalhalla #eivor #eivor varinsdóttir #eivor wolfkissed #female eivor #lady eivor #badass female eivor #female eivor supremacy #eivor of the raven clan #draugr tattoo eivor #ac eivor #ac soma #song of soma #soma jarlskona #i love soma so much #soma x eivor #lord of grantebridge

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kassandras-one-braincell · 3 years

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Soma x Fem!Reader - Fit for a Queen

Soma’s overworking herself on her exquisitely lovely throne, so you take it upon yourself to distract your lover in the best way you know… Tits. Basically, steamy romantic throne sex. [explicit]

Can be found on AO3 here.

Contains: cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, throne sex stuff

Minors DNI.

Regally, Soma flicks through a stack of parchment atop her throne, leaning back with an ankle resting on her knee: a powerful stance for a powerful woman. A chorus of tuts and curses steadily leaves her lips as document after document joins a hasty discard pile. She sighs, thumb running over the corners of the papers in her hand, realising the stack hasn’t shortened much over the hours passed. Alas, she presses on, a warrior’s hand brushing back her raven locks. Jarlskona to the end.

It’s the beautiful throne making it seem as if you’re observing not a lord, but a king. The oak is polished to perfection, ornate antlers carved from the wood meandering around the masterly crafted frame. Steel rivets hammered into the frame with precision, a Sami shield embossed into each metal diamond – a nod to Soma’s heritage that she holds with pride. Draped across the seat is the fur of a great grey wolf; you vividly remember the day she felled it, mocking a pompous nobleman who presented her with a much less impressive fur as a token of affection when requesting her hand in matrimony.

But as lovely as your woman looks on her throne, you’d much rather her curl up beside you in bed.

Grantebridge is wholly silent with sleep, the sun having set a small eternity ago. Even the alehouse no longer bustles with livelihood. Darkness blankets the sky, the only light in the longhouse stemming from a few candles next to Soma, the weather too humid for a hearth.

However, the summer heat is no rival to the warmth that had unexpectedly crept up on you perhaps an hour heretofore, leaving a dissatisfying ache between your legs that only Soma could ever relieve you of. Unfortunately for you, it’s becoming abundantly obvious that your lord intends to work until the birds tweet their morning song.

Impatient, you loosen the strings of your flowy nightgown until the fabric slips from your shoulders, exposing your clavicle in a tantalising manner. You smile as the thin cream garment struggles to keep you modest, the hem balancing on your bosom, nipples pert with arousal peaking underneath the soft cotton. The delicate scent of lavender crests your skin from your earlier bath. She won’t be able to resist me.

From your shared bedchamber’s doorframe you path towards her. Softly, you call out, “Soma, come to bed, my love.”

She only tosses two more sheets of parchment to the floor. “I’ll be with you soon, äskling.”

Pouting, you saunter over and perch on the sturdy arm of the throne. “It’s too late to be working. The whole town’s asleep,” you murmur, reaching for her hand. Soma, gaze still fixed on her work, presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“Believe me, love, I wish I could burn this whole pile,” she mutters.

“So do it.” She smiles. “You’re in charge – who’s going to stop you?”

Soma chuckles. “If only it was that easy.”

“Surely, though, it shouldn’t fall to you to filter through these blasted things,” you frown. “I mean, land taxes are hardly of the same importance as…Ethel’s broken loom?” She doesn’t protest when you pluck the angrily drafted letter from the stack and tear it in half.

“The old bat’s terribly sentimental, bless her.”

“Still, you have advisors for this, Soma.”

Finally, she glances up from her work. Her brow quirks when she finds her eyes level with your breasts, courtesy of your position on the throne’s arm, and she sets down the parchment with a smirk.

“It seems,” she begins, interest piqued, gaze trailing up from your cleavage to your lips, “that I’ve been neglecting my good lady’s needs.” She reclines on the seat, uncrossing her leg and widening her stance in a way so inviting, so sapphic.

You smile, feigning innocence. “I was just trying to persuade you to get some rest, is all, my love.”

“That’s all, aye?”

“Well…” Soma gathers the skirt of your nightgown in her hand and slowly hikes it up to your thigh, running her marred fingers along your supple flesh as she does so. “I was hoping to get you off that bloody chair first.”

“Hmm, perhaps I was hoping to have you on this ‘bloody chair’,” she lowly chuckles, guiding you onto her lap.

“Oh?” You lower yourself until you’re straddling her thighs, lips wonderfully aligned with hers. One of her hands remains on your hip, exposing your bare leg to the night’s breeze, while the other finds purchase on your waist.

Soma’s voice comes in a sultry mantra; one you find yourself drunk on, the strongest and sweetest mead to ever intoxicate you. “Tell me, love, have you ever been plowed on a throne?”

Biting your lip, you breathe out, “Can’t say I have, no.” The notion of being taken on a seat of power, by the personification of power, is certainly alluring. And for a woman of lordly standing to resort to such common vocabulary, promising you a delicious tinge of roughness…everything seems perfectly debauched. A wave of warmth washes over you.

Wordlessly, she dips her mouth down to the bust of your nightgown, tugging at the strings with her teeth, loosening the dress in one fluid motion until it pools around your waist, your upper body bare. You suck in a breath, pulse deafening with arousal.

“Gorgeous,” Soma murmurs into your throat, lips ghosting over your neck until they reach yours. You bridge the gap with a soft moan of her name, relishing the bittersweet flavour of beer lingering on her lips. She sighs into your mouth when you thread your fingers in her dark hair, physically relaxing when you massage the tension from her scalp. Deepening the kiss, she holds your frame flush against her, the grip on your waist urging your hips to buck into her, the gentle friction driving you mad.

Needing her lower, you tighten your grip on her hair. With a groan she rakes her teeth down your neck, rendering your mind blank. She caresses your thigh, fingers snaking over its apex until they near your aching sex. In yearning, your hips undulate against her, silently begging her to touch you, to take care of you. Soma harshly sucks a mark into your clavicle as if to chastise you, refusing to relent until a whimper escapes your kiss-swollen lips.

“Please, Soma,” you whisper, a touch of desperation seeping into your voice.

“Shh, I know,” comes her reply, fingers deftly stroking your quim at long last. You gasp as she languidly draws a stiff nipple into her hot mouth, tongue swirling around the peak, thumb pressing a blinding circle into your clit. Soma watches as your eyes close, surrendering to bliss, repeating the motions in perfect synchronisation until you’re chasing her for more.

Her fingers are drowning in your slick by the time she finally sinks a digit into you, lips kissing the top of your breast as you part your thighs to take her as deep as possible. With another swipe of her thumb on your clit she adds a second, curling them as your quim grips them to the hilt. “Fuck, you take me in so well, darling,” she breathes, hot and heavy against your bosom, marvelling as your arousal drips onto her trousers and the wolf’s fur below.

All you can muster is a moan as she impales you on her hand. Your walls are velvet against the rough pads of her fingers, of which every glide sends a ripple of pleasure straight to your core. Lightning replaces your blood, setting your skin alight as Soma slowly fucks into you, her thumb never leaving your throbbing bead, mouth latching onto your neck. Of their own accord, your hips roll in an effort to spear yourself on her fingers, cunt offering her a rivulet with every thrust.

“I love the way you clench around me,” she rumbles into the crook of your neck, removing her thumb with one last caress so you can take her impossibly deep, grinding her scarred palm against your clit. Cursing, you drag your free hand across her back, holding her and clawing at her through her clothes. Gods, you wish she was bare, just to feast your eyes upon the angry red lines your nails would leave tomorrow morning.

Moaning, you rock back and forth on her hand, slick flooding her palm as Soma sets a filthy rhythm you’ll be feeling for days to come. Every gyration has her slamming into spots that make your toes curl, the pleasure intense and overwhelming. “Just like that, love, yeah?” she whispers, hissing when your nails leave cresents in the back of her neck, supplementing your lack of words. You’re whining into her, thighs burning as you fuck yourself on her fingers with reckless abandon. “Gods, you’re so beautiful, so good,” she praises.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Tell me what you need, darling.”

“Harder.”

She obliges, and soon it all becomes too much, too good, too intense, and you’re falling apart in her lap, thighs squeezing around hers as you writhe and moan. “I’ve got you, love,” Soma smiles, gently thrusting into you, loving how your cunt pulses around her. Mind a foggy mess, you lift your hips off her fingers, slumping against your jarlskona while you steady your breath, weightless in your orgasmic haze.

“Arms up, darling,” she coos. You obey, and she lifts the garment pooled around your waist over your head, tossing it to the floor. Wholly bare in your fully clothed lover’s lap, you feel raw and vulnerable.

“You’re wearing too much,” you pant, fingers flying to the hem of her tunic, thanking the weather for her lack of a breastplate. Soma pulls it over her head, rendering her naked from the waist up, a banquet for your hungry eyes. Blessed with a warrior’s physique, tanned skin littered with scars, humble breasts offering a shred of softness amongst the firmness of her body. A Vegvisir is tattooed onto her sternum, the compass fanning out into a myriad of inked runes and sigils across her shoulders and upper arms, curling into what you knew was a beautifully drawn serpent on her back: an ode to her clan. Lust slowly fogging over your vision, you trail your hand up her abdomen, the other cupping her face as you draw her into a delicate kiss.

Its chastity doesn’t remain for long, with Soma hooking her hands underneath your thighs and standing up, strength unwavering. You think she’s headed to your bedchamber, but she turns to face the throne and eases onto her knees, gently lowering you onto the seat’s fur. “What are you—”

“What does it look like?” she teases, pressing wet kisses from the valley of your breasts to your lower abdomen, stopping only to position your legs on her shoulders.

“I’m on your throne,” you frown.

“Aye, hjärtanskär, and I fully intend to devour you atop it.” Soma sweetly kisses your inner thigh, urging you to relax into the oak frame. Blushing, you attempt to recline against the throne, but gods is it uncomfortable.

“How can you sit here for as long as you do?” You glare at your lover as she laughs against your skin. “It’s so…hard?” Soma snorts, grinning at your unintentional double-entendre. “Oh, shove off,” you groan, stifling a chuckle yourself.

“You learn to ignore it with enough of a distraction,” she says lowly, grin shifting from playful to ravenous as she delves her tongue into your slit with a hum, lapping at your soaked flesh.

Gasping with sensitivity, you arch your back into her, bucking against her mouth. With her warm hands prying your thighs apart, you’re helpless against her onslaught. Her silver tongue is fire against your cunt, ebbing and flowing against your folds, drinking your arousal like the finest wine before honing in on your clit. A broken moan rips through you as her mouth closes around the bundle of nerves, suckling on the dripping flesh. You cry out hoarsely, hand gripping one of the throne’s wooden antlers for dear life. Soma interlaces her fingers with yours on your thigh, making no effort to pin you down; she craves the unadulterated way you rut against her face whenever you indulge her like this.

“Fingers, love, I need— Fuck!” you mewl, head lolling back as two fingers push deep into your core, Soma’s tongue cruelly circling your clit. After each suck she thrusts into you: a dizzying rhythm that doesn’t allow you a moment to think. Her licentious tempo persists; moments later you’re crying a fucked-out chant of ‘yes’ and ‘Soma’ and ‘gods’ and ‘cumming’ as your thighs clench around your woman’s head, shaking with pleasure, grip so tight around the antler that it snaps clean off.

Realisation dawns as you come down from your high, eyes wide with guilt.

“Nice antler,” Soma smirks, sucking your cum off her fingers devilishly.

Cheeks searing with embarrassment, you struggle to find words. “Gods, I’m— Fuck, Soma, I’ll have it— I’ll have it fixed tomorrow’s first light—”

“Darling.”

“No, I’m so sorry, really—”

“(Y/N), my sweet,” she chuckles smugly. “I happen to think it’s a wonderful addition.”

“But it’s your throne.”

“It adds character.”

You flash her an incredulous look. “But it was so pretty before, Soma.”

“And the memory of you atop it makes it that much prettier,” she smiles, sincere in her words, easing your anxieties. Standing, she plucks the antler from your hand and throws it to the pile of clothing on the floor. Once more she lifts you by your thighs, which you wrap around your jarlskona instinctively, and pecks you on the lips.

“You’re right, though. It’s not the most comfortable thing in the world,” she says. You catch a wicked glint in her eye and hang onto every word. “A bed and some nice soft furs sounds lovely about now…” The scar on her cheek curves with the wolfish grin on her lips.

“I’ll need something plush to lie on if you’re going to ride me until your legs give out.”

#pure hoe shit for our favourite jarlskona #soma jarlskona #soma x reader #soma ac valhalla #ac soma #smut

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