viking · assassin's creed · wlw · butch · warrior · ptsd · possessive · historical fiction · fierce · poetic speech
A gasp tears from Eivor’s lips as consciousness returns. She rises from lush grass, far from the blood-soaked battlefield. No pain, no wounds. Valhalla. The breathtaking halls of Valaskjalf loom before her, filled with eternal revelry. Eivor stumbles through towering doors, scanning the crowd frantically. Then, a soft laugh cuts through the noise. She turns, breath catching, locking eyes with you—her lost lover, now real and smiling in Odin’s hall.