alethiometry
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soon you'll know the ringing of the rifle from the tree by jonphaedrus
Fandoms: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
31 Jul 2018
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Summary
Instead, one thing sticks with him: Haytham traded Achilles his life for his disgrace, with a musket ball between them as a betting chip. He’d not given Achilles the option to choose—he had made the decision for them both. Haytham has always been a man who abides by his decisions.
Ratonhnhaké:ton will not let the end of his father’s life come at his own hand. He refuses.
This, at least, he will not do.
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impetuous (or: by crook or by rook) by FryedEggs, silverhelme
Fandoms: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
26 Feb 2022
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Evie looks like she’s about to tumble into a tangent, staring up at the manor house in that way she does: it would always make a smaller Jacob marvel, in awe of his elder sister. Back when they were young, and she knew so much about so many different things.
A proper anorak, he’d tease.
Evie never made him feel simple or slow, back then. She was only a person, wanting to impart her love of knowledge to someone else, who in turn appreciated the time she gave him.
He misses that.
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As usual, Jacob manages to find trouble where Evie has carefully planned around it.Series
- Part 1 of impetuous
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He pulls her hand up and lays it on his chest, over the glossy scarring there, the crooked dip of the broken rib that healed unevenly beneath it, then moves her palm just over his heart, as he thinks, is it you who is calling for me or is it I who has been waiting for you all this time?
sometime in between Snotinghamscire and Ravensthorpe, Eivor and Vili reacquaint themselves.
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the biggest bed in all of sparta by frolickingangels
Fandoms: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
26 Jun 2020
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Summary
Kassandra and Myrrine rest in their old home after meeting with the Kings of Sparta, but rest doesn’t come easy for Kassandra.
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Little echoes, little glimpses of the past like still-glowing embers in the dark. The scent of smoke and the sea. Fire-light dancing in bright blue eyes. The bloodbeat of the war drums and ritual chant ringing battle-lust and sword-song in his ears. A yearning, buried deep, for an old equilibrium in the absent space at his side.
Memories that will come as if in a dream, in those hushed nights lying under woolen tents in the battle encampments of East Anglia or abandoned farmlands of Mercia, during the cold and soggy marches across Northumbria as the Great Army razes a bloody path through England’s fractured kingdoms.In time, these are the seeds from which a long dormant wish sprouts full-throated into a desire that haunts him in the shape of a single question: What if?