Work Text:
(Eivor’s POV)
Lunden had not changed much in the years since the Order of Ancients were expelled from its streets and corners. As ever, the city was a dull hole suffering the presence of ill-minded Saxons who did not take kindly to the presence of a Dane in their home. Sharp eyes drifted in her direction, charting every move she made as if she was combust into flames on the very spot. Lunden’s people waded through a neverending fog that permeated the air and very much like their city all life had been sucked from their faces. Lunden was a miserable hole, where people like her were not welcome.
These were the lands of the Saxons. Of Aelfed’s people.
Lunden had grown significantly since last she had been. The city edges spread further out into England’s moors. As was most Saxon settlements she had begun to notice. Ravensthorpe had always felt so comfortably far from everything. Like it’s own sanctuary nestled in a private corner of the world. Untouched and preserved. But Eivor knew that was a comforting lie she could not let herself believe for too long. That comfort thinned day by day and one day, Aelfred would be at her doorstep. An army of men and women she once shepharded into her clan now bearing crosses instead of hammers kicking down her doors.
Aelfred could try to swallow her home whole. If the gods willed their demise, so be it. But she would not go down easily. That was the silent promise she conveyed through her glare the last time she saw him at the water’s edge. They would meet again. For the last time.
“Don’t belong here, Dane,” A haggard voice barked at her. A Saxon man spat on the ground near her as he went by. Eivor’s fist was so tightly wound she wondered if it was rain water or blood wetting her palm...
Even hooded Eivor could not conceal her obvious otherness. As settlers went about their days they did so regarding her with extreme caution, as though she were a rabid dog held by a thinning leash waiting to snap. She tried to pay them no mind. She would not hide behind a column or ascend to the top of the ruins like a skittish pigeon. In a time when the Norse felt like a dying breed, Eivor wanted to be a reminder that some still remained. And it would be unwise to forget that not everyone bowed to a king.
Yet, best not dwell too long. Where is he?
“Being out in the open like this is not wise. I love your boldness, habiti. But fearful for an overly ambitious farmer or baker,” Comes a kind voice from behind.
Tension leaves her body and Eivor immediately smiles. A flicker of an amusing scenario about being beaten over the head with by a piece of bread enters her mind.
He stepped out from the shadows - as though he had always been there - and drew to her side gracefully. Trust him to turn walking into an artform. Under his white hood was the barest hint of a handsome smile. Quite clearly relishing in getting the drop on her. Something about her face must have reacted in a way that boldened his smile. She relished the way his cheeks creased against it.
Hytham was good at that. Emerging from the shadows without her ever catching on. Fitting, she supposed, as he was trained at birth to be a Hidden One. Yet, as impressive as it was, it could be unnerving at times. How could a human merge with the darkness and flee from it with such ease as Hytham exerted? He was like a ghost, a wraith flitting between worlds and dropping in at will.
At least her haunting was a sweet one.
Brown eyes are warm and welcoming to her as his fingers lightly brushed against hers. Mindful of lingering eyes. As much as she wished to take his hand fully in hers, intertwine her fingers with his as they were meant to be, she remained vigilant too. It was a good thing that he remained careful. Eivor could not trust herself to not get lost in the moment. But by Odin, she wishes he would allow himself to give into his whims a little more. Two foreigners could stand against overly ambitious bakers wielding dough...
“Pfft, I would love to see them try,” She challenges his earlier statement. Looking out to the stretch of road ahead of them. Where gaggles of Saxons watched on wryly.
Next to her, Hytham sighs. “Yes, I know you would,”
“Did you find your way alright?” In the letter she had sent to Hytham back at Ravensthorpe she did not specify where she would be in Lunden. Only that he should come meet her. Hytham, evidently, would track her down. She knew he would like the challenge.
“I was not followed, if that is your meaning,” He said.
“I expected nothing else. And that was not my question,” She eyed him carefully. Always with the ulterior motive with him, per usual. “Did you find any trouble, love?”
“Why? Did you expect trouble? Are you wary that we might have enemies lurking about?” He starts analysing their surroundings. Perhaps even for the second time.
“Hytham I am asking if your journey was alright. By Odin, are you alright?” She grits her teeth at his denseness. He could be oblivious when he wanted to be...
Taken aback, Hytham looks almost perplexed by the question. He snaps his gaze away and fidgets. “Oh...right. Yes, I am alright. Thank you for asking,”
Now it was Eivor’s turn to relish how even after so many months together, she could still get him to turn a delightful shade.“I am glad to hear it,”
He clears his throat abruptly. “I must ask why you have asked for me all the way out here so far from Ravensthorpe?” His hands position into the shape of the triangle in front of him. “You’re letter was infuriatingly brief,”
“I told you all you needed to know,”
“Oh?”
“It is a surprise,”
Hytham is unreadable when she reveals this. Not used to being presented with surprises.
“Come. Follow,”
They make their way around the remnants of the old Roman ruin. Eivor feeling guilty when they have to clamber up to a ledge. She pulls herself up first, extending her hand down to him. Once, back in Norway she would have expected him to swat her hand away like a pesky fly. Even if it meant him falling from a great height. She too was not free of that bitterness that once swam between them. Though, she would have jumped down after him to give him a good swat in retaliation. Always having to get the last word even if it meant broken knees. Now? The way his hand slipped into hers perfectly ruled her mind in sudden desire. No longer dueling in a snowy courtyard, heavy breaths as they tried to hurt one another. But a thousand thoughts of bodies pushing and pressing against bookshelves in Hytham’s hut. His hand on the curve of her waist; the heat on the back of his neck as her fingers clung to him. Lips parting to whisper her name…
It’s amusing to think where they came from, and where they are now. Less entertaining to think about where this will end, but she is not here to dwell on that just yet.
She pulls him up, packing a little bit more strength in pulling him into her. So that their chests crash into each other. His eyes immediately trail to her lips, idly licking his own as their chests brush up against each other. He is warm against the shuddering breeze of the night. His heartbeat thrums against hers. Although the night surrounds them; all is dark save for the flame in his eyes. He is thinking the same.
“Something on your mind?” She hums, leaning in as if to go in for a kiss, breathing hotly along his lips. Suddenly withdrawing when he is convinced she will. Earning her a frown. She has half a mind to rent a room and whisk him away right now. Even threaten the no doubt intolerant inn keeper if it came down to it. Yet Eivor stilled her needs. She did really want to show him what she had found.
“You’re a wicked woman,”
“A wicked woman who is about to make your night,” She pushes herself away from him, palm flat against the centre of his chest as she takes a few steps back reluctantly. In case he got any ideas. Lingering her hand on the fabric of his robes. Fingers itching to rip them off. “In the purest sense,”
“I was not aware you were familiar with the term pure,”
“I am sure I have no idea what you mean,”
“Of course,”
She saunters ahead, waiting for him to catch up. Along the edges of the Roman architecture she spies the entrance. Covered in fallen debris; hidden from any who had not charted this secret like she had. And she could not wait to share it with someone who would appreciate it more than she ever could…
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(Hytham’s POV)
She stood at a small archway compiled and hidden by fallen debris from the Roman ruins that surrounded them. The hole seemed a tight squeeze, barely large enough to fit a child. Eivor, face as coy as ever, bid him to go in first. Ducking his head as he stepped in he slowly rose as he wandered further into what appeared to be a cave. Behind him, Eivor lit a torch that diverted the dark.
“I can think of more...intimate places, Eivor,” He commented. Not in complaint, on the contrary. Being with her was enough for him that she could take him to a bog - or in her words, the arse-end of nowhere - and he would be more than content. So long as she was near.
He just couldn’t help but like getting a rise out of her.
“Oh? I’m open to suggestions,” She plays along and he can practically feel her smile from behind him.
He grins. “There is this sturdy table back in Ravens- ow!”
She swats him on the back of head, lighty. Laughing to herself. “You can be a shit, Hytham. You know that?”
He hums in acknowledgement. Looking around them he could not see what was so impressive in the eyes of Eivor Varrinsdottir that it warranted her asking him to come all the way from Ravensthorpe. So far they were delving further down what appeared to be a corridor shrouded in nothing but dust and darkness. His mind drifted to what kind of stories these walls held about the time of the Roman Empire. What events had transpired, as mundane as they might’ve been. The world of the Romans differed from the world today; just how much fascinated him.
“Trust me, love. You will like this,” Eivor said behind him, apparently sensing what he was thinking.
Just as she said it there it was….
Curtains of ivy fell from a rupture in the ceiling that showed the sky; cascading down like emerald waterfalls with shards of moonlight trickling against the water that pooled at the centre of the ruin. Surrounding them were walls of ivory concrete. The staple of Roman architecture, more moss and ivy seeping from cracks and crevices in what remained. It all reminded him of the public baths back in Constantinople, and if he was alone he might have had half a mind to go swimming. This place was no doubt crumbling, teeming with insects and should it rain the ruin might flood all the more. But there was beauty to be found in the Hidden One’s signia gracing a banner on an intact wall at the far end of the room. Welcoming him home...
“Well?” Eivor drew to his side, her hand holding his shoulder.
Unable to utter anything, he grasped her hand gently. Eyes stuck on that banner. “It’s…”
“Yes?”
He strokes her knuckles as he lets out a deep, wonderous breath.“Beautiful. This is one of the bureaus? You brought me here to see it, why?”
“I saw the look in your eyes whenever I returned with a codex,” She said softly. “You wished you could have seen them with your own eyes,”
“I did,” Hytham scans his surroundings. Eating them up with his eyes greedily. “What history these walls must hold. The things they would tell if they could talk,” What events transpired within this Brotherhood? Whom were the Hidden Ones that claimed this bureau as sanctuary? Hytham’s mind whirred in endless possibilities.
“The library is still intact,” Eivor points out.
Now he looked at her with eyes as wide as carriage wheels.
“Truly? How intact? Where is it? Just down this hall?” He pointed emphatically and Eivor nodded, meeting his enthusiasm just as giddily.
Entering the library took a little longer than it might have had Hytham not spent so much time ogling the stonework that was still remarkably intact despite hundreds of years. Time had not eroded everything. Leading Hytham to come up with ways for revitalisation. Perhaps he could convince Master Rayhan to come here, rebuild the bureau…
He pushes those thoughts out of his mind.
Once inside, the room is a collection of dusty old tomes and codexes. The walls are tall with volumes and he mentally plucks out different papers that seem to still be in good condition to take home for later. Those codexes Eivor discovered were immensely valuable, but if he could save whatever was left as well? Preserve more history? All the better, and all the more to contend himself with back at Ravensthorpe.
Hytham is already in the middle of the room before Eivor can even light the first brazier with her torch. Wandering in like an eager child. The old library carries a scent of papyrus paper; dry wood and earth and a hint of spice. As if some of the past was bleeding into the present. More banners hang on walls, still held high despite the passage of time. The symbol of his creed hangs over him, and for a moment he forgets about the plethora of writings surrounding him. Only the banners seem to exist; glaring at the Hidden One who allowed an intruder inside.
“I can hear your mind working, Hytham. Is something the matter?”
Yes, and he cannot begin to describe it.
“The Hidden Ones would have recorded much before the fall of the Roman empire. Mission briefs, descriptions of targets, geographical reports,” He changes the subject. And in doing so, his mind becomes reinvigorated with the sights of all the documents laid out around him. “Perhaps even communications from the other bureaus. Both locally and across the seas. Some of it will no doubt be destroyed, time is a pesky beast. But if I could save some, read them, translate them thus preserving them. I could understand our predecessors better. Learn how they operated. It could prove most invaluable!” He rambled on. Surging over to a shelf, fingers tantalisingly grazing old scrolls. “I wonder how they organised their documents? Perhaps-”
As he looks back at her, Eivor is staring at him intently. And seemingly had been for a while. Grinning from ear to ear like she’s caught him naked. However, there is something else persisting in her gaze in a way that causes him to stop completely.
“Why are you giving me that look?” He says, dreading the answer already.
“Hmm? What look?”
He points at her face. “That look,”
She shrugs innocently.
“Do not play stupid with me, Wolf-kissed,” He shakes his head, awaiting for her flurry of jokes and jibes.”You think I am silly, don’t you? Getting worked up over dusty old tomes,”
“You have a fierce thirst for knowledge that could rival Odin’s. I think it is admirable...I think you are admirable,”
He blinks, giving her an incredulous look. He expected jokes, willing to play into them. Not compliments. “Eivor, was that a compliment?”
Rolling her eyes, Eivor divides her attention between lighting the scorches around the room with her torch. “You say that like I don’t compliment you,”
“No, no. I didn’t mean it like that, I just…” He raises his eyebrows at her. “You’re not one to give hollow praise,”
“You are right,” Looking triumphantly at him; the torch is put out as she tosses the stick asie. She slowly sauntered towards him. Each step felt like an eternity. “Not many know who they are like you. You act with such conviction it’s as though you pour your heart into everything you do,” She falters for a moment, taking a good long look at him. “And...it’s for this very reason that you find things hard to let go. So, aside from spending time with you, I thought I’d bring you to these old ruins for a reminder,”
Hytham tilts his head, confused as to where this was going. Something about her words, her manner, something about it all felt... final.
As Eivor stands before him. Her pale-blue eyes dart up to one of the banners looming above them. For a moment, as she stands so close, it is like that symbol of the Hidden Ones is a pair of unwanted eyes gazing in on an intimate moment. A temptation to tear it down lurks inside of him...
“The other shadow-walker, Rayhan. He spoke to me earlier this week,”
Hytham’s heart drops. He searches her face for any inkling to what she could be feeling. But now she stonewalls him. A defense goes up that he isn’t sure he’s going to be able to break down.
“What...What did he say to you?”
“You will be going soon. To further your cause-”
Of course he had.
“Eivor,” Don’t continue, please. He didn’t want to think about this right now; let him be selfish. Let him pretend the sand isn’t piling at the bottom of the timer.
“No. You told me this would happen. And I accepted that your duty would take you away from me. For good,”
Hytham flinches at her words. In solemn recalling, he revisits the memory of when he had told her about his letter from Rayhan. A little while after...events. The letter promised a future; respect, praise... a title. A promise of rebuilding their presence in England once again. Reading Rayhan’s handwriting at first had lifted him up, filled him with pride and hope. Which sank quickly like sand between his fingers.
Hytham wasn’t sure what was worse. Being torn from her by the expanse of the seas; devoid of temptation but also of the hope of ever seeing her again. Or remaining in England; within reach should she need him, but forbidden from ever acting on his feelings. He could see the look on her face when he revealed the news. Blue eyes wider than he had ever seen them, pleading silently for him to stay.
She would never admit it, of course. Openly accepting the end of things and supporting him in his decision to leave with the Hidden Ones. But he knew deep down she was hurting. That he was causing such pain ate away at him even more. Yet what could he do? Remaining in Ravensthorpe - or worse - leaving with the Hidden Ones and sneaking off to meet Eivor was out of the question. The Hidden Ones were never just a cause to him; they were his life. And in this life having close attachments like theirs painted targets on backs. He would not have her in danger because of enemies he made.
“I...think when we leave these ruins, we-” She stops herself, voice wobbling. “I believe we should leave as friends,”
Hytham shakes his head, frowning. “As friends? Why would you suggest such a thing?”
“Because being like this, being with you like this...it’s too much. I’d rather end it now, give me time to adjust to life without you than pretend we don’t both know what is going to happen,”
“Better to pretend we are friends then?” He says bitterly.
“I don’t hate you for it, Hytham. My admiration only boldens with your choice. But I hate how it makes me feel,”
“That doesn’t answer my question,”
“I’m not one to pretend. For anyone or anything. But in our case it allows adjustment until the day comes when you go for good,”
He sighs and rubs at his face. “Eivor, you might’ve dropped this on me after we explored the ruins,” He couldn’t even think about going back to scanning all these ancient codexes and channeling his inner scholar to admire the architecture now.
Awkwardly, Eivor grins. “Ay, maybe that would have been wiser. But it’s a weighty thing...carrying that on your chest. I couldn’t keep going knowing what I wanted to say,”
He has to remind himself this is just as hard on her as it is him. Was the goal really to get used to his touch and presence? Or was she trying to make it easier for him to leave somehow? He can’t begin to guess. What he does know, is that no matter what way they try to dress their farewells; as heartbroken lovers or close friends, the pain of leaving her behind won’t be a wound easily mended.
She reaches for his cheek gently. His breath hitched, ever stunned by the warmth that radiates from her, and feeling undeserving of her gentleness. Yet he can’t help but lean into it on instinct. Raising his own hand to hold hers that cradles his face.
He turns his lips into her palm and kissed her tenderly. “I’m sorry, Eivor,” He whispers into her skin. If in someway ending this today helps her, as minute as it might be, he’d do it.
“As am I,” She whispers.
After a moment, a gust of wind flows into the room. Taking it as their cue, the two pull away.
“I have one more thing to do,” And like that, the light returns to her. A little too quickly. She inhales deeply and gives his cheek a sudden pat. “I think you’ll like this,”
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Hytham observed from afar as Eivor slowly delved further into the pool. Watching intently as the surface of the water climbed up her naked pale back with the leaves of green ivy that were floating nearby swaying against her languid movements. Her ink was glistening and he found himself mesmerised by the way droples dripped from her spine and neck. After a moment, she reached into the waters with her fingers, looking over her shoulder with flaming eyes that burned in welcoming to him.
“Are you going to stand there forever?” She asked him. Her voice was different now in a way that sent shivers across his skin. Smooth like velvet and low like thunder thrumming in the skies as she arched her brow expectantly.
He shouldn’t. Master Rayhan’s letter was pulling and tugging on his earlobe demanding he quit this behaviour now while he could before it got out of hand - oh how he wanted it to get out of hand - He should stop. Had to stop. Her touch was a snare, luring him until he was caught. But Hytham had spent his whole life following rules and watching out for hands that would snip at his ear. And in the moment when Eivor turned around to face him fully he could not get his vambrace off quick enough.
The mentor would have him for years to come in the effort to rebuild the order in England. Today, tonight, this moment, right now; Eivor would have him for the last time.
He tugs at his belt in a hurry. Once a pile of clothing hits the floor Hytham joins Eivor in the waters. Feeling flushed as her eyes did not leave him once as he stepped down the steps. The two of them had been naked in each other’s presence before but not to this level. To the fore came a new sort of intimacy that allowed an intensity of voyeurism. He drank in the sight of her like this and felt drunk on it. Drunk on her. And she too drank in the sight of him like it would be the last time. Like if she blinked too much he would be gone.
Whether he moved towards her or she did he did not know. But Eivor was soon in his arms. Her hand in his hair and his bare chest. Fingers blooming out across his collarbone and before he could even take a breath from the sudden contact her lips were on his in forceful and near livid movements. Her nails dug into his hair silently threatening to pull them out should he dare pull away. Which was fine by him as he had no intention to. Even if these ruins started to crumble around them.
She could never understand what it had felt like to have every moment with her feel like the last. How his mind raced in trying to savour every kiss, every lingering stare, every embrace, every memory with her for fear of it being the last. Now it really was the last time. Hytham’s heart soured at the idea of his hut being an empty building that she could spy from the longhouse. He bristled at the image that one day the candles at his desk would be blown out for the last time. Ushering what had been his respite for years into a husk before he had to fade into the shadows. A wraith that could only ever observe her from afar.
He clung to her waist. Enveloping her all the more. And then.
“Come with me,” He whispered against her lips.
She stopped, and for a moment, so too did his brain. As he tried to process the shock that hit her and his own stupid wording. The infuriating thing was that when the words left his mouth...he did not regret them. He held them tightly and wound them against his heart. Pushing them into her in hopes of selfishly toppling Eivor into the idea of a future he had for them.
“Hytham,” Her voice is concerned, layered in warning for him not to continue. Hindsight being what it was, he should have heeded it. But alas, his heart told a different story. He wanted to push this, chase after it.
“Come with me, Eivor,” He said again, with passion and with conviction. And in his heart he uttered the question a million more times, screaming them into an empty void. “Please. Join the Hidden Ones, join me. With enough training you could-”
“And leave my clan? Abandon my duty as Jarl?” She still held him close. Yet her neck was pulling away as if repulsed. “You know I cannot do that,”
“I want you to come with me. I love you, and...and I can’t…” He croaked yet he could not help it. The way her face saddened at his proposal pulled at his heart strings. He hated that he had said it but he needed to speak what had been on his mind ever since that damned letter from Rayhan arrived at his door.
Everything, all of his stupid convinctions from before went out the window. He didn’t want to end this, he didn’t care about accepting it.
“Hytham I can’t. I won’t,”
Whatever excuse he was going to come up with to try and persuade her died in his throat at the look she gave him. Her face was pulled into a stern frown and her fingers removed themselves from his hair and laid on his shoulder. More and more as this discussion went on she was pulling away from him. It was then that Hytham’s senses finally kicked in.
“You know I would ask you to stay in Ravensthorpe. You said it yourself, you saw it as home. But I know you, and I know you would forever hate yourself for leaving them. So understand why I too cannot go with you,”
She was right, of course. It was selfish and shortsighted of him to ever ask, to ever consider her clan was anywhere near as important as him. And she was right about hating himself should he abandon everything to be with her.
For a moment he imagines a life in Ravensthorpe. Of wearing loose, comfortable clothes while doing daily chores. Fishing by the lake with her and sitting at her side in the longhouse. Of long talks on the rooftop to his hut and seeing her face every time he woke up. A bittersweet feeling enveloped him at all the ‘what ifs’ flittering in his mind.
Eivor was the first thing to ever draw his focus away from the creed. And for the first time he did not feel like a broken man who didn’t heal right. Or a flimsy foolish apprentice to headstrong to just stop and listen. He felt wanted and loved and admired and needed. He felt human.
But what were his desires compared to the good of the world?
“You were my home, Eivor,'' he admits. And indeed she was. Was. “It is not the hut or the lands for which my heart sours to leave. It is you, just you,”
After today nothing between them could remain as it had been. The sense that they had not relished in it while they could’ve stung like a wound deeply trenched in his heart. Bleeding in what if’s and what could have been’s.
He takes another shuddering breath.”How...how do we fix this?” It couldn’t be fixed. After today, as pointless as it felt, they’d act as friends. Accomplices. He was the shadowy Hidden One she regarded with suspicion, and her the barbaric Dane he found strange.
Hytham quite literally sees the second her heart clenches.
“We can’t fix this,”
“This is how it ends…”
“Did you expect this to turn out better?”
He shakes his head slowly. Of course they couldn’t, she was right. He had merely deluded himself briefly into hoping that somehow they could persevere. The deepest part of him naively hoping that they could have a happy ending crept out. But it was buried again now, where Hytham would keep it. “No, as much as we love each other our love for our causes are greater. As different as they are. We owe it to them to part ways,”
Hytham takes her hand. Placing a chaste kiss to her knuckles that have seen so much violence and fighting. She is warm and here, and she will truly truly truly never know how these last weeks have agonised him. How the breath sweeps from his lungs each time she rides off into the distance, fearful Rayhan will beckon him to his side before he can say goodbye. And now knowing it is their last time for real...he is almost tempted, some small part of him, tempted to remain in the light for good. He fears it.
Eivor leans in. Lips brushing against his in slow, languid movement. It is the most gentle she has ever been with him; he is almost in disbelief that she is kissing him at all. She is featherlight and hesitant, perhaps knowing that temptation lurks and a forceful kiss will send him over the edge.
The last moment.
“Thank you, habiti. For the time we had,”
Hytham envelops her in his arms. Tracing the wet skin eagerly with his hands, exploring every inch of her as their kiss continues. She too is neither shy nor laidback in navigating him. He shivers as her fingers trail along his spine and her wet hands soak his hair.
And then, they pull apart. Ever so slowly moving away from one another. Hytham knows if she touched him again he might be lured in once more.
“I will get our clothes,” Hytham turns away, with no intention of looking back at Eivor as he goes to gather their belongings...