Chapter Text
Basim always had a soft spot and weakness for strong women, who knew what they wanted and who didn’t back down. Most men from his home country, hadn’t shared his sentiment; quite the contrary, for they had almost all preferred their women to be small, almost invincible and most of all, obedient. Everything else was not well received, let alone tolerated. Women usually were raised to be good housewives and even better mothers, while the men’s job was to provide for the family.
Basim’s ex-wife had been headstrong and a force to be reckoned with, especially compared to the other women her age. This was exactly why she had caught the Hidden One’s eyes in the first place and why he had fought hard, to earn her trust and her love. The more devastated he had been, after he had lost her and their son. He had almost sworn to never allow himself to feel love for another woman again, after the terrible loss; the only thing keeping him away from doing it had been the thought of his wife. She wouldn’t have wanted for him to isolate himself, to never allow himself to become happy again. And yet, he had loathed and averted the company of the other sex. The pain had been too great, the hole she had left behind, too large to fill up. Even now, many years after the tragedy had struck; Basim was still suffering and mourning for his dead family.
This was the way he wanted it to be. He was living his life travelling and visiting many parts of the earth; he had found friends and comrades, even an apprentice, but never had he looked at a woman twice. At least not until now...
Eivor was the female warrior’s name, who had earned herself a second glance, even a third one. Sigurd, his current project, had introduced him to the blonde female, whose ice-blue eyes had practically pierced his every defense to strike his poor, scarred heart. He had soon learnt that the women of the Norse people were considered almost equally to a man; they were allowed and trained to hunt, to fight and to do everything a man could do. They were proud members of society, didn’t need to hide and were very rough around the edges. Simply said, there was everything Basim admired and looked for in a partner; someone who could match, perhaps even tame him. But Eivor, the Jarl’s sister, was on another level altogether. The village came to her with every task and problem. She was reliable, strong and surprisingly wise, even though Sigurd was often too blind to see that. Basim was not surprised though; he knew who the redhead really was after all. Hávi had been a blind fool too and he had regretted and paid for it. He would pay again, once Basim was finished with him, but good things needed time. Until then, the Hidden One would observe the blonde drengr. He would study her, get to know her if she allowed it and then... they would most likely part ways. She would want revenge, when he killed her brother. The Arabic would be ready and prepared for it; he wouldn’t allow himself and his heart to get hurt in the process... at least that is what he promised himself.
Hytham, who was standing right next to him, cleared his throat in a telling manner. Basim raised an eyebrow, waiting for his apprentice to speak up, now that he had acquired his mentor’s attention.
“You are staring”, commented the younger man.
Basim hummed. “Am I?”
“Yes and people are starting to notice”, mumbled Hytham.
His voice revealed no emotions, but Basim knew him long enough, taught him long enough, to know when his student was displeased with him. The older man didn’t care and Hytham was too well trained to utter a word about his concern. A mentor was not to be questioned – though Basim thought differently. This was a lesson he had yet to teach his student. Even a mentor was prone to make mistakes and wrong decisions and perhaps this was indeed one of them, but they would never know, unless he tried.
“Let them notice. They are curious about us by nature”, yet he turned his head away from the person of interest to gaze at his student.
“So are you about them, it seems”, grumbled the younger man. This was as far as he would go to voice his displeasure.
“As I should and as you should as well. We are surrounded by many things strange and unknown to us. Doesn’t it spike your curiosity?”
“It does”, answered the younger Arabic instantly.
“So am I”, he grinned slightly.
Hytham slowly nodded. “I understand what you mean, but why her?”
Basim pondered his answer for a moment. His gaze landed back on the female warrior, who was surrounded by men and women alike. They were laughing and enjoying themselves. As it seemed, Eivor was asked to participate in one of their favourite games; drinking. She seemed to hesitate, but was strongly and loudly encouraged by the other participants.
“She hit me”, Basim finally answered, with amusement in his voice.
He remembered it like it had been yesterday. It had been a difference in opinion, the both of them discussing it heatedly. He had overstepped, she had as well, he had said something hurtful and earned himself a split lip and burning pain from the hit for the next few days. He had been very surprised by the strength she possessed and had found admiration and perhaps even a little bit more by it.
“Excuse me?” Hytham stared at him in utter disbelief and shock.
“She hit me; hard”, the older male repeated his statement, without many emotions in his voice.
“Forgive me, but I don’t see the appeal in being hit”, the apprentice said in his typical dry voice.
“I will explain it to you, at some point, but not tonight.”
“Yes mentor”, Hytham replied dutifully.
“Good”, Basim nodded. “Now, why don’t you join them? Enjoy yourself, learn something, be yourself without the burden of a Hidden One.”
“Yes mentor, I will”, Hytham nodded and dutifully retreated, leaving Basim back to observe the female warrior who had captured his interest.
Eivor was now participating in the drinking game and it seemed as if she was winning. Basim was impressed; yet another hidden talent it seemed. Yes, he definitely had a weakness for women who could hold their ground – and apparently their liquid – and he was not ashamed to admit it. Basim moved further into the shadows, silently observing and gathering as many information as he could get.
Hours later, when the first men and women had fallen into a drunken stupor, Eivor stepped away from the others. She was stumbling, but laughing while doing so. Basim watched her, almost amused. She had clearly drunk too much, but at least she hadn’t fallen into unconsciousness. She seemed to know her limit.
Basim pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning against and made to follow the female. She didn’t return to the Longhouse, to the Hidden One’s surprise, but rather she followed the trail that led away from it. He kept enough distance between them so he wouldn’t be noticed.
Eivor led him, unknowingly, towards a small waterfall. She sat done on one of the rocks, leaning forward on it, in order to pull her boots sloppily from her feet. She threw them next to her and let her feet slide into the water. She sighed and stared at the night sky. Countless stars were shining today and the moon hung high and full; its light creating a halo around long golden hair that was braided in an artful manner. Basim found himself wondering how it would feel to let his hand run through golden strands.
“You can join me, if you want”, her voice brought the Arabic out of his thoughts.
Basim blinked in confusion and surprise. He had been silent and stealthy, and yet Eivor had noticed him... but how?
“You may be silent, but not invisible”, Eivor’s amused voice sounded once more.
Basim stepped out of the shadows, question clear in his eyes. Eivor turned around, just enough to look at him with her shining ice-blue eyes. A grin played around her lips and she pointed up, towards the sky. With furrowed brows, Basim followed her finger. It took a moment before he made out what she was referring to. High above them, a black-winged raven flew large circles over the treetops.
Basim let out a huff. “I see.”
“So... sit with me?” The female drengr offered, patting the rock next to her. She turned around again to let her eyes come to rest upon the glittering river created by the waterfall.
Basim hesitated, but eventually moved forward. His steps were dead silent and he sat gracefully down next to the warrior, folding his legs beneath him.
“I come here often, it’s so peaceful. I can think more clearly and... I love how the fireflies dance over the water”, she sent him a small smile.
“It is indeed peaceful”, Basim readily agreed.
“The company is not too bad either”, the female drengr nudged his arm with her elbow.
“How flattering”, he tilted his head, silently wondering if she meant it or if it was the alcohol speaking.
“Oh, this is merely the beginning.” She laughed heartily.
Basim barely kept himself from grinning. She certainly wasn’t shy. He liked it.
“Are you always this direct?”
She shrugged. “I deem it easier and better to be open and honest. Hiding away doesn’t make it easier and there might be a risk of being too late in the end.” She paused. “Alcohol helps too.”
The Arabic wondered if she had been too late once too. Had there been someone she loved in the past? Someone, she hadn’t told how she truly felt... perhaps she regretted it?
“Those are wise words”, Basim finally admitted nodding.
“I know”, she grinned sassily, which earned her yet another amused huff from the dark haired man.
“And modesty is one of your strong suits too, I see.”
“You know me too well,” her grin grew wider, but upon seeing the unbelieving look on Basim’s bearded features, she laughed heartily.
“I will leave you to your imagination then”, he retorted.
She hummed, more or less satisfied with that. There was still that amused glint in her eyes and the sure way she held herself.
Basim let his eyes wander over her feminine, yet strong frame. Sadly most of her was hidden under armor and cloaks.
“Do you like what you see?”
Basim inwardly cursed. He had been caught staring again, this time however, not by his apprentice, but by the very person he had been staring at. Today just wasn’t his day. He found her grinning broadly and knowingly at him, it was almost infuriating.
“I am merely curious”, he finally said calmly, “Many stories are being told about you and your adventures. I am wondering which of them are true and which are not.”
She tilted her head and with the light of the moon and the way she had braided her hair, he could make out the prominent scars on her neck which had earned her the nickname ‘Wolf-Kissed’.
“People tend to exaggerate. I am, like you and everyone else, just human.”
Basim didn’t protest, but he certainly knew better. He wasn’t just simply human and neither was the drengr’s brother. They both were much more, chosen ones, by the gods of old. While thinking that, he felt Loki stir at the back of his head.
“That may be so, but some humans are meant for more”, he answered in a riddle.
“Sigurd used to say this as well, ever since we were children.”
“But you don’t believe him?” Basim guessed.
“I do. But things are rarely as black and white as we think.”
They sat in silence after that, both of them lost in their own respective thoughts. The Arabic was left wondering about the truth of this statement. The female warrior was right of course, but wasn’t it too easy? Loki would say that matters between him and the Mad One were exactly that, black and white. Hávi had done a lot of harm to a lot of people. But was it really as easy? The Trickster protested and flooded his mind with many images. Basim had trouble keeping up, without showing anything of his inner struggle on the outside. He was glad that Eivor was lost in her own head though.
Eventually they bid each other good night and he had left for the Bureau. Hytham arrived much later, when the sun was almost on the horizon again. Basim had pretended to be asleep then, when in reality, he hadn’t found a single second of sleep this very night.