Assassin's Creed Drabbles

↳ princess training

ceolbert's elder sister is the subject of ivarr the boneless's affections and while others teach you the ways of the court, ivarr takes to teaching you of survival. rated 18+ for smut.

THE KISS OF hard dirt stings a fresh scratch on your cheek, but you can't give up, not so easily, not against him. You reach out for the wooden training staff, but your sparring partner kicks it away. "Next time, princess," Ivarr the Boneless notes, crouching next to you. Sighing, you roll onto your back, looking up at him and grey sky beyond. His smile is twisted, but his gaze has an odd kindness —a look reserved only for you, the one he calls princess and little bird.

Ivarr extends his hand, helping you from the ground, brushing the straw and dirt from your hair —hand lingering on your cheek when he wipes away a smudge of dirt there with his thumb. You cover his hand with your, leaning into his soft touch. It's an odd thought knowing you're among the only people in Midgard to see the part of Ivarr the Boneless that isn't consumed by ruthless bloodlust. The moment fades when you both hear Ubba calling after him —he's late to a meeting once again because of you.

Your little brother watches with his arms crossed. "Father won't like this if he sees," Ceolbert notes. He said the same words to you before when he caught you and Ivarr kissing in the stables of Repton. A memory that brings a flush to your cheeks every time you think back to it —it was after a feast, the both of you half-drunk on summer wine and honey ale. Ceolbert's callous glare snaps you from the daze.

"I know," you admit, rubbing the small scratch on your cheek —a lie could hide what happened this time easy enough. Some time ago, you asked Ivarr to tutor you in sword and axe play, and only a few weeks back did he reluctantly agree to train with you. Ivarr was a terrible teacher. Instead of learning from mistakes, you only incurred scrapes and bruises. Ivarr said even those were lessons, but you've learned nothing save the taste of dirt.

Since sitting on the cusp of battle with other broken kingdoms and the Danes, you pleaded with your father to let you learn to fight —even asked some of the other men only to receive the same adamant answer. No. "A woman can die on a blade just as easy as a man–" you grip onto Ceolbert's shoulder, hoping he will see your reasoning and not tell your father "–is it wrong to want to defend myself, brother?" He shakes his head, having seen Danish women fight alongside their men with equal skill. "Defend people I love?"

Again, Ceolbert shakes his head. "No," he answers, his voice quiet as though you've scolded him. But then he's looking up at you with a grin, the cogs turning in his mind. He knows a way for you to get better and maybe even impress that fiend of a man you seem to love. "I think I know someone who can help." You raise a brow, curious and suspicious of the mischief shining in his eyes. Ceolbert slips away, still wearing a smile.

"IVARR?" EIVOR ASKS, fighting to hide his surprise and laughter —he couldn't imagine a Son of Ragnar smitten with anyone less than a shieldmaiden, yet Ceolbert tells him Ivarr the Boneless only has eyes for his elder sister. Even more surprising is Ivarr's sentiments are returned in full. If opposites attract, then there was no better example than you and Ivarr.

"He fancies her," Ceolbert says, remembering his father's concern when the Dane first showed an interest in his daughter's hand, suggesting an alliance between Danes and Saxons through marriage. Ubba was quick to stamp out his brother's plan —crowning Ceolwulf king was more than enough to secure an alliance without having Ivarr think with his cock. "He calls her sweet names," the boy adds, seeing Eivor's amusement grow, "even picks flowers." Now that would be a sight.

Ivarr hadn't expected his Saxon princess to be a fighter —a part of him even enjoys doting on you, content on keeping you tucked away in a castle. Your brother —and even Ivarr to an extent— knows such a life does not suit you, and it never will. "My sister wishes to be able to stand by him in battle," he explains, "but my people do not encourage women to take up arms as you Norse and Danes do."