Sapphic Writer

mature romance. fanfics.

[sapphic-moon-wolf]

Masterlist

✦ AO3 - Find me here for more writings.

✔ - means the work is complete

ⴵ - means the work is in progress

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⬩ Assassin's Creed ⬩

Eivor x Kassandra

✔ Don't Let The Night End - part I // part II // part III // part IV // part V

ⴵ How the Greeks Make Love - part I // part II // part III // part IV // part V // part VI // part VII // pending . . .

[sapphic-moon-wolf]

How the Greeks Make Love, Part VII

Eivor has never seen the Aegean. Not until Kassandra took her to her homeland, where the sun warms the skin, and the people warm the heart.

Eivor x Kassandra

Lesbian Romance

Warning: Mature Scenes

The Peloponnesian war between Sparta and Athens had reached every corner of Greece, leaving trails of blood and burned crops behind. Every little island had seen its share of loss and suffering throughout the years, but as Kassandra stepped foot on Lesbos again, a different kind of sadness touched her heart. 

She remembered the two women who lost their lives here in the name of love; Bryce and Ligeia. 

Both of them were strong warriors, and secret lovers, meeting in the ruins of a temple every night. The moon would find them kissing in the shadows, heart to heart, slowly building a deep, inseparable bond. But all ended when the blinding power of an ancient Isu artifact had transformed Ligeia into the gorgon Medusa, who then turned every man and woman that approached her to stone.

It was a curse, but Bryce did not give up on her. She struggled and fought, earning the ire of the local villagers every time she tried to gather warriors to help save her lover. An angry mob had cornered her by the time Kassandra heard her cries up on that hill. 

No one wanted to help Bryce. 

No one even believed her. 

But Kassandra had answered her call and it had been a vicious fight. 

In the Petrified Temple, lifeless corpses came back as moving statues, attacking the misthios from every side while Ligeia tried to fight back the artifact’s corruption, hissing Bryce’s name through the struggle. To everyone else, Medusa was nothing more than a monster, but Kassandra could see the truth hidden beneath the horror. There was still a human soul trapped inside the stone, grieving in silence for the love she had lost. 

For Bryce.

Even now, the memory of it all cut deep into Kassandra as she gazed at the mountains where the legend of Medusa had been silenced centuries ago. Where Bryce and Ligeia had drawn their last breaths beneath an unforgiving sky. In the distance, smoke was still curling faintly from the earth, like a ghost.

“Is something burning there?” Eivor asked, snapping Kassandra back into the present. 

“No, no. There is no smoke. Only dust…”

“Dust or smoke, it makes you unhappy. Tell me what’s wrong.” Eivor insisted, trying to be patient.

But part of her boiled with unspoken frustration. The thought of secrets being kept and the woman that she loved suffering in silence made her clench her fists until they hurt. And yet she knew she had no right to pry into Kassandra’s heart; not unless she willingly opened it to her. 

“There’s only ruins now, Eivor. An ancient structure used to be there.” 

“An Isu structure?”

“Yes.”

Eivor glanced at the cloud of dust spilling over that mountain, dark and heavy. Whatever had cursed that land must’ve been dead long ago, but she could still feel its presence like an omen. 

“I want to go see– ”

“No.” Kassandra answered sternly. 

This was not something she was willing to negotiate, not when that place held so many bad memories and perhaps so many dangers still. She grabbed a firm hold of Eivor’s shoulder, forcing her to meet her gaze.

“Swear to me you will not go there.”

Eivor's eyes narrowed, pale and sharp beneath furrowed brows. She was visibly tense, her jaw tight as she struggled not to argue back. For a long moment, she said nothing. But then she nodded and exhaled, her broad shoulders finally relaxing. Not quite ready to back off, but letting Kassandra win this time.

“Fine. I will not go. But you will no longer keep secrets from me.”

Kassandra did not answer right away, but when she did, it was honest. She agreed to open up, and she would gladly do so if it meant Eivor stayed away from danger. She knew how curious, proud, and reckless Vikings could be, and it scared her more than any of the monsters she’d ever had to fight. 

However, Lesbos had more to offer than darkness and tragedies. And so, as the sun rose higher in the sky, the two warriors began their journey on the island.

They visited the main city first, looking for a comfortable and private place to lodge for a few days. They found a small house looking over the sea, with hand-painted walls and purple wisteria falling over the windows like a gentle curtain. The scent of wild flowers lingered in the air, adding to the mystical feel of it all. Nearby, a small gathering of locals were playing music, grilling vegetables, and dancing around a camp fire. 

Kassandra sat on a wooden bench, stretching her long legs as Eivor went to fetch them wine. It was rare for a woman like her to truly rest. She was either on the run, or her mind would be racing with thoughts she never dared to speak. 

But this felt nice… Quiet for once. And if she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend the world was finally at peace.

“Here… for you,” Eivor whispered as she sat down next to her.

She handed her a jug of wine and placed a clay bowl of chopped pomegranates in between them like an invitation. It brought a smile to Kassandra’s face; a genuine one this time. They sat together and drank slowly, watching the sun go down. 

“Do you ever miss your homeland?” Eivor asked.

Kassandra took a sip of her wine, gently shaking her head.

“It’s dangerous to get attached to places.”

“What about getting attached to people?...” the Viking teased, eyeing the beauty beside her.

The question made Kassandra’s lips curl in amusement, and she turned to look at the other woman with a drop of mischief in her dark, honey-glazed eyes. 

“That’s even more dangerous,” she whispered, drawing the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip.

The movement didn’t escape Eivor. She tightened her grip around the clay cup, her thumb tracing its smooth rim in slow, absent circles. She took a measured sip, her watchful gaze still fixed on Kassandra’s mouth, following the shape of it with unmistakable hunger. 

The taste of wine still lingered on her tongue that night, dark and warm, and Eivor swore she could taste it again when her lips finally met Kassandra’s.

Alone in their rented little hut, the two women lay sprawled over a bed of straw, wrapped in each other’s arms. Rough hands danced over curves and scarred muscle, fingers tangling in loose hair, mouths pressed together sensually. The lamps burned low, everyone else outside had already gone to sleep, but they weren’t tired. 

For them, the night had just begun.

Eivor took the lead this time. Her fingers closed around the misthios’s hips, firm and impatient as she pushed Kassandra back onto the straw beneath them. She then settled atop her waist, keeping her exactly where she wanted her. 

There was a restless hunger in the way she touched her then. Her strong hands caught on Kassandra’s tunic, tugging hard enough to rip the fabric open. The summer heat pressed heavily through the room, thick against skin and breath alike, yet Eivor knew full well it wasn’t the night that made her suddenly feel hot.

It was her. 

She wanted her. Needed her.

She kissed her like a starved beast, warm tongue claiming the softness of her mouth in deep strokes. Kassandra met her half-way, kissing back with just as much fire, but Eivor did not relent. Not tonight. 

Tonight, she wanted to dominate every inch of her.

When the last piece of fabric was gone from between them, Eivor’s hand found the small clay jar resting beside the bed and dipped her fingers into the scented oil. With practiced ease, she pushed Kassandra’s legs open, making space for herself as she began to touch her. Slow at first, then rougher, fingers parting her velvet folds with purpose, circling that pulsing need.

“Eivor…” Kassandra moaned, and gods, did it make Eivor’s own arousal spike like a firecracker.

What wouldn’t she give to keep her like that, trembling underneath herself, burning and beautiful like Aphrodite. Kassandra really knew how to be seductive without even trying, and by the time Eivor finally slipped her fingers inside, she was lightheaded from the feel of her alone.

The walls of their hut echoed with heavy breaths, sweet cries, and the sounds of a warrior knowing how to touch a woman just right. Eivor didn’t stop, she didn’t slow down. Her own need meant nothing at that moment. All she wanted was to see Kassandra lose herself against her until she forgot her own name.

“Look at me,” Eivor whispered, guiding her lover’s gaze with a steady touch against her jaw.

Their breaths mingled as she angled her hand to reach deeper within, fingers curling until Kassandra twisted in breathless pleasure. 

“Good…” the Viking murmured, her pale-blue eyes fixing upon her like a wolf in heat. 

She kept thrusting evenly, holding her beloved misthios pinned in a merciless rhythm that left her trembling from more than one overwhelming release. Each orgasm came fast, sudden, harder than the last. 

And there was more to give.

“Gods Eivor…” Kassandra heaved, smiling, beads of sweat shimmering against her brow. 

“Let me touch you–”

“No.” Eivor hissed, catching her wrist and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

“I've spent all day wanting you… Don't rob me of this."

Hours passed before Eivor was finally satisfied, and by then, her beautiful lover was completely spent. 

The glow of the lamps reflected off their bodies in shades of citrine and red, making them look like goddesses carved from gold. Heavy breaths filled the silence, their eyes caught in a loving gaze, soft hair sticking to damp skin.

Kassandra turned onto her side to face Eivor, a satisfied smile quietly resting on her sleepy face. And Eivor watched her with a gentle sort of possessiveness, her hunger finally sated, yet still very much in love with her. Her hand drifted lazily across Kassandra's skin, scarred fingertips tracing familiar paths along the strength and grace of her nude body.

The touch was featherlight, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its wake. Every inch was hers to claim, to protect.

“I could spend a lifetime looking at you,” Eivor whispered, watching her beloved with warmth in her blue eyes. 

Not many people could move a woman like her, but Kassandra sure did.

She leaned down and kissed her heated brow, holding her close as the peaceful quiet of the night enveloped them both.

To be continued . . .

part VI // ???

[hella-amberpricefield]

Assassin's Creed Valhalla

[sapphic-moon-wolf]

How the Greeks Make Love, Part VI

Eivor has never seen the Aegean. Not until Kassandra took her to her homeland, where the sun warms the skin, and the people warm the heart.

Eivor x Kassandra

Lesbian Romance

Eternal life is not a gift. Not if you spend it burying the ones you love, over and over again.

Ever since Kassandra accepted the Staff of Hermes Trismegistus and the burdens which came with it, she learned what pain truly was. It was not a bleeding wound, a broken bone, or an aching head. 

True pain was watching the sun rise and fall, while its light never really touched your skin. Watching the trees change their leaves, the flowers bloom, and grass turn from green to gold, while your hair never greyed. It was witnessing people live, from a newborn’s first cry to an elder’s last whisper, and never once being able to breathe in the same rhythm as them.

The price Kassandra had to pay was more than bearing the fate of humanity alone. It was being stuck in an endless loop as the world moved around her, as people bonded, fell in love and built legacies. And somewhere along these centuries of existence and old age, she nearly forgot her own name because no one stayed long enough to say it properly.

One may think that if you face loss enough times, you’d eventually grow numb to it. But Kassandra never did. She’d buried family, friends, neighbours, even strangers, and not once did the ache feel any lighter. In fact, it felt more suffocating and crude, as if death itself rejected her and left her floating in an empty space. 

Just her. Only her. Always alone.

And so, Kassandra learned to isolate herself to escape the hollow grief which came with losing the people she loved. The loneliness was a burden in itself, but it was predictable at least. It felt cold, joyless, and dark, but it was hers. It was the only sure thing she knew… until Eivor came along.

Eivor, the woman who somehow managed to climb over Kassandra’s high walls and nestle herself into the empty cracks of her heart. Eivor gave her purpose, warmth, made her feel alive again, and Kassandra didn’t know how to live without these feelings anymore. But as she watched the beautiful Viking sleep next to her, fear crept in her chest like a deadly shadow.

Because Eivor was a mortal. Her time was limited, and whether by old age or bleeding wounds, death would snatch her from her arms one day. 

“Mh…” Eivor groaned in her sleep, shifting on the pillows.

The sweet smell of wine and crushed grapes still clung to the air as dawn approached quietly. Their garments lay scattered across the cracked marble floor of the abandoned temple where they had taken shelter for the night. A single oil lamp flickered low beside them, its soft glow brushing their skin in shades of amber and rose. 

Earlier in the evening, they had laughed, sparred, made love, then fell asleep in each other’s arms. And Kassandra found herself quickly growing addicted to nights like this.

“Ela, agápi mou… sleep,” she whispered, caressing Eivor’s cheek with the back of her fingers. 

There was no turning back now. Not after everything…

Because if there was anyone in this world worth the pain, it was her.

Morning arrived like a whisper, a pleasant breeze settling over the golden fields.

When Eivor’s lashes fluttered open, Kassandra was right there by her side, holding her close against her chest. The sun stretched high above the hills now, warming their nude bodies. Soft bruises, kisses, and teeth marks decorated their skin like runes, like promises they’d made in the quiet of dusk. 

Eivor smiled, still half-asleep, and turned to face her lover. Their noses brushed softly, mouths sharing sweet morning kisses.

“You ache, Kassandra…” Eivor murmured between sleepy breaths, carefully settling atop of her.

Kassandra’s lips parted, but she held back from speaking about the things that truly hurt her. Even if Eivor understood, there was nothing either of them could do about it; about the quiet certainty that one day they would inevitably have to part.

“Aching… makes me feel human, Eivor,” she whispered and cupped the other woman’s cheek with genuine affection. It was rare that the misthios allowed herself to be so soft these days. It was dangerous, too.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” Eivor rasped, pressing the weight of her body down upon her beloved, like a shield. Her grip tightened, her brow furrowed, her control nearly slipping.

“Don’t you trust me?” she breathed against Kassandra’s lips.

“Eivor, no. Don’t say things like that! I do trust you–”

“Then why? Why do you hide your heart from me? Why do you lay awake in the silence of the night while I sleep?”

“Eivor–”

“Why won’t you let me in?” 

Just then, a boy came shouting Kassandra’s name from below the temple’s rundown steps. Their ship was about to sail, and if they wanted to leave Attika’s shores, they had to be ready in less than an hour. Eivor lingered for another moment, quietly gazing into her lover’s eyes as if waiting for her to confess. But eventually she rolled off of her and got dressed.

They’d have to save this conversation for another time.

As the sea rocked their ship back and forth, the two warriors stood leaned against the banister, watching Attika disappear in the mist of the morning. The salty breeze danced in their hair, a familiar scent to both of them by now, having navigated the world’s seas and lands together. 

They spent most of the morning in silence, just watching the horizon and the many islands of Greece rise in the distance like giant teeth. 

“What is that? Over there…” Eivor perked, pointing at a particular stretch of land adorned with tall, green mountains. 

Kassandra glanced towards the island, and smiled.

“That is Lesbos,” she answered.

“Lesbos?...”

“Yes. It’s the homeland of the poet Sappho. The one who praised the love between women in her poems. The one who worshipped Aphrodite and prayed to her for her love to be returned…”

Eivor’s eyes lit up, her chest warming as Kassandra spoke. She related to Sappho in many ways, especially because her love for women was never just lust. It was something that she carried in her heart like a victory of its own. 

“I see,” she smiled, too. “I’d like to stop there for a while. Wouldn’t you?”

“In Lesbos?” Kassadra’s smile grew wider.

“Yes.”

“Hm… I would. It’s a beautiful place with a tragic story.”

“Oh?”

Kassandra crossed her arms over the banister, her thoughtful gaze wandering back to the island of womanly love and loss. 

“I’ll tell you more when we get there.”

To be continued . . .

part V // part VII

[sapphic-moon-wolf]

How the Greeks Make Love, Part V

Eivor has never seen the Aegean. Not until Kassandra took her to her homeland, where the sun warms the skin, and the people warm the heart.

Eivor x Kassandra

Lesbian Romance

Warning: Mature content (lesbian lovemaking).

Midnight rose high above Thebes, draping over the city like a silent veil.

Kassandra pressed her lover against every stone fence and pillar on their way to their shared cabin, claiming her lips with growing hunger. She curled her fingers in the soft wool of Eivor’s tunic, dancing with her on the cobblestone street. Eivor’s desire rose with every breath that spilled hot against her skin, and she chased those kisses with her teeth.

“You’re impossible,” Kassandra murmured with a smirk as the summer breeze toyed in her braid.

The Viking laughed, short and breathy, as she grabbed a fistful of that beautiful chestnut hair to hold her misthios still. Just for one moment. Just so she could really look at her in the silver moonlight. 

Each line on Kassandra’s face was perfect, a timeless beauty that slowly wrapped around Eivor’s heart. Her breath caught every time their eyes met, as though she were seeing her for the first time, again and again. 

When they finally reached their lodge, they crashed through the door still wrapped in each other’s arms. Tonight, it was just the two of them.

No distractions. 

The mattress creaked as Kassandra shoved Eivor onto the bed, both of them half-nude by now. Pieces of their armor lay scattered on the floor, blades glinting in the moonlight. Silence settled around them, broken only by a quickened breath and the faintest whisper of skin against skin.

“I’ll take my time with you… and you’ll feel it for days,” Kassandra murmured against Eivor’s mouth, fingers hovering near her hips.

Teasing, not touching yet. 

And though it was hard for a shieldmaiden to relent, the Wolf-Kissed couldn’t say no. Not tonight. Not to such a viciously beautiful woman. 

“Careful… I bite back,” she smirked, but leaned back anyway, allowing herself to be devoured.

Kassandra descended with slow passion, fire dripping from her lips. She traced every inked line and edge on Eivor’s bare chest, long fingers fanning over the soft rise of her breast. Her touch lingered there, feeling that wild heart drum against her palm. Velvet tongue brushed over the soft peak of a nipple, drawing a quiet shiver from the woman surrendering so gracefully to her hunger.

Teeth followed, closing over the hardened bud slowly, until it hurt. 

That single drop of sweet pain made Eivor arch into her, tattooed fingers clawing at the sun-warmed muscles of her back. Somewhere in their love-battle, Kassandra’s braid came loose. Chestnut waves spilled over her broad shoulders, and Eivor was quick to lose herself in the scent of those rich tresses. 

Warm sun, argan oil, and her.

Leather whistled as belts were pulled loose and more pieces of clothing fell. Kassandra tossed her mercenary skirt aside, letting it drop on the floor next to Eivor’s breeches. Her body, all muscle and feminine grace, glistened in the dim glow of a low-hanging lamp like bronze come to life. Eivor’s eyes followed with silent awe, her breath stuck somewhere in her chest. 

She traced the scar on Kassandra's arm with steady fingers; the one which sealed her fate on Mount Taygetos, centuries ago.

Their lips met again, slow and all-consuming. They kissed as if it were their final breath, the last flicker of warmth in a world turned to frost. Hands roamed freely, gripping firm muscle and sensual curves as they locked their legs together with instinctive hunger. And when their womanly cores brushed, slick with arousal and pulsing with need, a shared moan slipped between their mouths.

The bed frame creaked beneath them as Kassandra moved, each roll of her hips meeting Eivor’s pelvis with rising purpose. They pulled back only to surge forward again, like waves drawn endlessly to the shore.

Delicate folds brushed together, their wetness mingling like the molten blood of the earth’s core. They rocked into each other until that tender rhythm no longer satisfied the fire between them. That's when Kassandra braced a hand against the wooden headboard and drove downward with a warrior’s force.

Strong, hot, and unstoppable.

She could feel Eivor trembling beneath her, fingers clawing at her arms, clutching the bedsheets, tangling in her loosened hair. But she didn’t stop. Not the first time, nor the second. Not until her beloved wolf lay breathless, hips aching, and mind lost somewhere in the aftermath of too many shuddering orgasms.

Only then did Kassandra slow down, her powerful hips dancing against Eivor’s with less wild fury, and something closer to love. She cupped her cheek and leaned down, foreheads pressed together, slick with sweat and impossible heat. 

The carnal pleasure was nothing compared to this. To holding something warm and alive, to feel it tremble under her force, and stay.

But it was a dangerous feeling for a warrior like her, who still carried the essence of old gods in her veins. Time had taught her not to get attached. And yet, here she was… sleepless beside this one woman who made her break every rule.

Kassandra’s fingers moved gently through strands of gold and sweat-dampened hair, watching Eivor sleep. Her chest rose in steady rhythm, skin still aglow with the aftermath of passion, marked in red and violet where kisses had lingered too long.

A beautiful and fierce thing she was, and yet in that moment, utterly vulnerable, trusting Kassandra to hold her.

And Kassandra did.

When the sun rose and blackbirds began to sing outside their window, Eivor’s eyes fluttered open. She was sore and bruised in all the right places, her insides still tingling from the night’s flames. Slowly, she pushed herself up to sit as her vision began to adjust to the empty room.

“Kassandra?...” she called.

“I’m outside!” 

Eivor draped a tunic over her body and stepped barefoot into the grass. She rolled her shoulders, squinting as she angled her scarred face towards the sun. Nothing but trees surrounded their little cot, with a little stream murmuring nearby. That’s where Kassandra was crouched, washing apples in the fresh, cold water.

The sight of her, so peaceful, made Eivor’s chest tremble with warmth as she approached. “You’re up early,” Eivor murmured.

“I haven’t slept.”

“...No?” 

Kassandra glanced over her shoulder, a little smile on her lips. But her eyes, dark pools of honey, seemed to glow with something else now.

Fondness.

She stood, leaving the clay bowl by the river, and leaned in.

“I watched over you,” she whispered against the other woman’s lips softly, with something deeper than desire. And kissed her.

The gesture came suddenly, but Eivor yielded without a word, as if she’d been waiting for it all along.

That’s when things began to change.

As days passed, Kassandra’s gaze would linger not with lust or playful challenge, but with something quieter, more sincere. She waited for Eivor to speak, leaned in closer when she did. Her hand, sun-warmed and steady, would find its way to Eivor’s thigh or arm, curling around her like a promise.

At first, it was subtle… barely noticed, easily dismissed. But with time, the misthios began to find more reasons to be closer. Not just at night, when they could sin in the dark, but in every waking hour of the day. 

“I see it, Kassandra,” Eivor spoke as they walked together along the beaches of Megaris.

“You’re holding back less… and I don’t know if I should stop you.”

The sea whispered against the shore, people chattered softly in the distance, by the fire. But Kassandra couldn’t hear them, couldn’t see them. Her gaze was on the setting sun, and her mind was always filled with her.

What she was feeling wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t fair, either. Not to Eivor, nor herself. Not when she had a duty and a long, cursed life to live. One she could not share with anyone. Still…

She turned to look at Eivor, and how beautifully the sunset painted her in shades of red and gold.

“It’s too late to stop me, Eivor,” she murmured.

Pain flickered in her deep brown eyes, but she was used to it by now. It was the price she paid for still being human beneath the shell of Isu perfection. But Eivor didn’t look away. She reached for her instead, fingers finding the gaps between Kassandra’s knuckles. 

And that touch alone sealed their fate.

To be continued . . .

part IV // part VI

[sapphic-moon-wolf]

A little visual for ▸ Don't Let the Night End

Artist's IG is ▸ artelleart

Kass x Eivor, our favourite <3

[sapphic-moon-wolf]

How the Greeks Make Love, Part IV

Eivor has never seen the Aegean. Not until Kassandra took her to her homeland, where the sun warms the skin, and the people warm the heart.

Eivor x Kassandra

Lesbian Romance

The sun stretched over the morning skies, spilling through satin curtains in shades of gold and rose. Eivor slept on her side, one arm draped over Kassandra’s nude waist. Their legs were still tangled in a lazy embrace, fingers laced, breath soft and warm. Teeth marks and bruises adorned their skin, symbols of a love shared in wild passion. The night had been long, endless. A gift meant to be shared, and never to be spent alone. 

Never again.

“Good morning…” Eivor murmured against her lover’s shoulder.

Kassandra smiled, exhaling deeply as she rolled over to face the warrior who’d stolen her heart and made her thighs tremble all night. She cupped that pretty cheek, thumb ghosting over the scar that only enhanced Eivor’s beauty.

“Good morning,” she murmured, nose brushing her jaw, softly.

They ate their breakfast by the seaside, relaxing in the sun. Beyond the horizon, the island of Keos stretched high towards the sky, with jagged rocks and misty shores. Kassandra told stories of her adventures there a long time ago, when Cultists roamed the Aegean and claimed the innocent before their time. 

Eivor understood.

“My father, he…” she began, pressing a grape between her fingers. That dark winter night when Kjotve the Cruel had stolen her loved ones still made her bones rattle with fury and pain. Her voice trailed into silence, thoughtful, or perhaps reluctant to speak of it at all. 

But she didn’t have to.

Kassandra’s palm settled atop her forearm, warm and safe. Their eyes met for a moment, finding comfort in that shared silence. That shared heartache. No one else had ever come so close to grasping the hollow longing this misthios had carried for centuries. Not until her. 

“It’s alright,” she whispered to Eivor, squeezing her arm.

Eivor smiled, nodding once, and then averted her thoughtful gaze back to the sea. Azure, glistening in the sunlight like beads of precious glass, and warmer than any waters she’d ever touched. Warm, because Kassandra was there to bring all that beauty to life. 

Later in the day, they travelled all the way up to Boeotia on a black mare. Kassandra led, reins steady between her fingers, and Eivor sat behind her. Her chin rested on the beauty’s sun-kissed shoulder, arms draped around her waist. The closeness felt like a balm they both craved, but wouldn’t dare voice.

The land ahead was breathtaking.

Golden fields stretching as far as the eye could see, poppies and flax adding a drop a colour in the sea of grain. It was everything a Viking could ever wish for after surviving the cruel North. 

“A place like this makes even a warrior feel small,” she murmured, taking everything in with deep appreciation. 

“Indeed,” Kassandra whispered after a beat. “These hills…They used to be scorched. People fled, hunted by war and famine.”

They stopped for a moment so Eivor could admire the view. The tall mountains ahead, green forests, and vivid light made her breath hitch. She and her people were known to burn things into the ground, to leave ash where life once stood. A quiet ache twisted in her chest, deeply mournful, but she said nothing. She couldn’t find the words.

“Now… they’ve healed,” Kassandra spoke again, turning her head slightly. Just enough for her lips to brush the scar on Eivor’s cheek. 

“Everything heals with time, Eivor.”

The Viking clenched her jaw, her arms coiling just a little tighter around Kassandra’s waist. She needed this. The warmth, her presence, those words that seemed to fill every crack in her chest.

“It’s not just time alone that heals,” Eivor murmured, seeking those beautiful dark eyes like a starved hound. Their mouths drew nearer, breath felt like a blessing in between them. 

“It’s who you spend it with.”

Kassandra leaned in, releasing the harness to cup Eivor’s jaw. She drew her thumb over her lips, parting those sweet petals before claiming them. A kiss born not of flame and passion, but stillness. The kind that ran deep, intimate, vulnerable. 

Ahead, the citadel of Boeotia rose just beyond the hills. 

It was once a fragile place, where the land’s fate was decided to either fall or be spared. Now, it stood tall and flourishing. Both Spartans and Athenians walked together, chatted and laughed. It was a peace which Kassandra had never dreamt of living to see. 

After entering the fortress, they left their horse in the care of a stableboy, and walked into the city. Torches lit the streets, less impressive than the Athenian agoras, but beautiful nonetheless.

Eivor gazed at bronze statues and marble pillars, lingering here and there when a bard’s song sounded too sweet to ignore. Kassandra waited, giving her space to truly taste the Greek experience.

The air smelled like sea salt, burnt wood, and the faintest trace of incense from temples. Gorgeous women passed by while sophists discussed by lamplight in open gardens at sundown. 

For a woman like Eivor, a poet at heart, this was food for the soul.

Unlike her fellow Viking kin, she had always been drawn to the arts, whether in brushstrokes, verses, or text. And as she paused to listen to two elders exchanging quiet philosophies beneath the olive trees, a different kind of warmth bloomed in Kassandra’s chest.

God, she loved her. From those brutal fists to that beautiful mind. 

“You want to join them?” she asked, wrapping an arm around Eivor’s waist and slowly pulling her in. 

Eivor smiled, but shook her head, dismissing the thought.

“I don’t understand a thing they’re saying.”

“I can translate for you,” Kassandra whispered against her throat, her honey-brown eyes following Eivor’s gaze to the torchlit agora. 

Midnight found them again, this time not in the arms of a delicate woman, but in heated debates about history, science, and astrology.

One figure in particular caught Eivor’s attention.

Leo the Mathematician.

While many of his students wrestled with the complexity of his theories and mechanical wonders, Eivor followed with quiet clarity, even from the bits and pieces translated by Kassandra. She’d join in, explain how their longships worked, breaking open the sea’s harshest storms, and slithering through the narrow rivers of England.

The elders watched with interest, wide-eyed, nodding every once and again. And the deeper the discussion wove, the more Kassandra’s gaze lingered on Eivor, burning with a quiet, growing hunger. There was nothing more arousing than a brilliant mind in a strong body.

“Beauty and brains,” she chuckled low, biting back a smile as they retreated for the night.

Eivor glanced at her with a faint smirk, trying hard not to fall for that sultry charm. But the street was narrow, the houses hushed, and the silence between them too tempting not to break with a secret kiss behind a corner. 

Only, Kassandra didn’t stop at one kiss. 

She pinned Eivor to a stone fence with a powerful thigh in between her legs. Her teeth were already claiming that pretty throat, hungry for the life pulsing within. Hands roamed, slow and unashamed, seeking warm flesh underneath her tunic.

The Viking tilted her head back, lips parting with a groan as she felt Kassandra’s fingers thread dangerously close to her belt. 

“I want you,” the misthios growled, breath spilling hot against the other woman’s mouth.

To be continued . . .

part III // part V

[sapphic-moon-wolf]

How the Greeks Make Love, Part III

Eivor has never seen the Aegean. Not until Kassandra took her to her homeland, where the sun warms the skin, and the people warm the heart.

Eivor x Kassandra

Lesbian Romance

Warnings: Mature themes ahead, not suitable for readers under 18

Perfume lingered in the night air as songs echoed softly from within Aphrodite’s temple. 

Making love behind silk curtains was commonplace in Greece. Women came together to share brilliant minds and sensual bodies, soft hands tracing softer curves, fingers combing through silken hair and gliding down slender spines. A giggle would rise from behind a dimly-lit alcove, only to be silenced by a kiss. 

Eivor lay perched on her elbow, watching with quiet fascination as Kassandra warmed their lovely bard with gentle touches. Those scarred fingers could be incredibly tender when they held a delicate woman, so different from the deathly grip that once crushed enemy throats. A warrior turned lover, still powerful, and undoubtedly attractive. 

The Wolf-Kissed exhaled softly through parted lips, her gaze trailing over Kore’s body as it arched and twisted in rising pleasure.

Kassandra’s hands dragged along the girl’s plush thighs, pushing up the light fabric of her flowing dress to reveal warm skin underneath. The maiden yielded in soft submission, folding into her lover’s steady grip like a lotus blooming beneath the sun. Her long lashes fluttered open, half-lidded sapphire eyes settling on Eivor. 

She smiled, her lips stained with berry wine, silently inviting.

And Eivor took the bait. 

She settled behind the girl, her knees brushing against Kassandra’s on the soft carpet. For a long moment, the two warriors held each other’s gaze as they shared the forbidden fruit. Smooth skin, gentle breath, and the sweetest scent in Kore’s braids. It was a divine thing to hold. 

Eivor slowly unbuckled her gauntlets and let them fall to the floor, forgotten between satin cushions. Her bare arms wrapped around the graceful beauty between them, warm breath caressing the shell of her ear. Tattooed hands came to rest on her narrow shoulders, slowly drawing the fabric of her dress down her slender arms. 

Kore’s chest, round and glistening with gold powder, lay bare before Kassandra’s eyes now. From behind, Eivor cupped her breasts, thumbs rolling sensitive peaks until they hardened under her teasing touch. The girl’s lips parted with a soft, breathless cry, caught between two powerful women. One forged in Greek sunlight, and the other, carved from the stone and ice of Norse fjords.

The moon rose high above Athens, a queen among brilliant stars. 

Soft fabric and leather armor lay forgotten in a pile on the marble benches, between empty wine chalices and crushed fruit. Their weapons, still sheathed, rested in the grass, hidden from the maiden’s pretty eyes. There was no room for violence here. No reason for war. 

Kore lay onto the cushions, her dark hair spilling around her shoulders like ink. A gentle beauty meant for worship.

Eivor hovered above her, one strong hand pinning the girl’s delicate wrists high above her head, the other slowly dancing over her bare chest. Rough fingers trembled with restraint as she caressed her, curling around the soft rise of her breast. She tightened her grip, enough to make her shudder with each possessive touch, yet careful not to leave any unwanted marks upon that tender skin. 

“Lay still, precious thing…” Eivor whispered, leaning in. 

Her breath, rich with wine and warmth, ghosted along the Kore’s graceful throat. Scarred lips closed over the fluttering pulse there, teeth sinking in slowly, deliberately, until the girl shuddered beneath her.

Kassandra was sprawled between the beauty’s thighs, like a feline in the sun. Her skin caught the lamplight like gold, sun-kissed and glistening. She held the maiden’s legs open with ease as she slowly drew the pleasure out of her, gripping her hips just a little harder when the girl tried to chase release.

Not yet.

Two fingers curled deep within her warmth, pressing back and forth over her need, slow enough to savor the feeling of ecstacy without letting it spill. Her mouth lingered above, tongue dancing in between sweet, velvet folds, rolling over her sensitive bead.

“Parakaló…” Kore begged.

Please…

But neither Kassandra, nor Eivor, were willing to spare her tonight.

The Viking caught her lips in a deep, hungry kiss to silence those sweet moans. Her grip tightened around the girl’s wrists, holding her still as Kassandra edged her, savoring each tremble, each quiet gasp, and the erotic taste of her. It was exquisite torment, but Kore only melted deeper into their hold, breath hitching with every touch. Her heart raced, cheeks flushed with pleasure she had never known before.

It was pure bliss.

When they had drawn every last trembling breath of her delicious torment, Kassandra granted her mercy at last. Eivor eased back just enough to let the girl breathe, cradling her cheek with a warrior’s tenderness. As Kore writhed in her grasp, Kassandra’s tongue found a quicker rhythm around her pulsing need. Deep inside, her fingers curled with purpose, beckoning that aching rapture with the certainty of a woman who knew exactly how to touch a lover.

The maiden’s spine arched with grace as pleasure pooled fast and deep between her trembling legs. She cried out, her elegant voice spilling into the dark sky above like smoke. No lyre could produce a sweeter sound.

Kassandra pulled her fingers out with a satisfied smirk, her lips wet with the warm essence of the beautiful siren. One hand rested flat against her stomach, steady and gentle, as Kore trembled with the aftershocks of release. The warriors locked eyes, silent in their shared triumph, as their hands glided over quivering skin, savoring the way she still melted beneath their touch.

A divine sight. Definitely one Eivor would not forget soon.

After catching her breath, Kore drank deeply from a full chalice of wine to soothe her parched throat. Then, gathering her flowing dress and lyre, she bid the two warriors a soft farewell for the night. Her skin shimmered with a new kind of glow, flushed with warmth, touched by their affection. And though she vanished into the quiet, her perfume lingered. A delicate trace of her presence long after she was gone.

Eivor tilted her head towards Kassandra, blue eyes alive with want that was not quite sated yet. For a while, she only regarded her in silence, her gaze dragging shamelessly over Kassandra’s half-nude form.

“Were you trying to make me jealous?” she murmured with a daring smirk.

Kassandra smiled, playing coy, but there was nothing innocent about the way she looked at Eivor in that moment. She drank her in slowly, hunger shimmering on her tongue like a beast barely held in chains.

“Did it work?” she asked in a seductive whisper.

Playing with fire was her favourite game, and Eivor moved without thinking. 

What once was tender love now became a storm of possessive touches and heated lips. The jug of wine crashed to the floor, red spilling around them like dusk. Kassandra’s hands no longer threaded gently. She gripped, pulled, and twisted her fingers into Eivor’s tight braids, yanking her head back. Teeth found her tattooed neck, immediately claiming skin with feral bites and hot kisses. 

The peace Kore brought melted into battle fury. Without her, the two warriors were no longer tame. They were ablaze with passion.

Eivor gasped, biting her lip as Kassandra dragged her tongue along her skin, from the collar of her throat up to her jaw. Lips met again, vicious, aggressive, consuming each other like two starved wolves. Blood rushed like wild fire in their veins as they rolled over the cushions, wrestling for dominance in that sacred little space. 

The Greek women’s song melted into the night. 

Eivor could no longer hear it over the sound of her own pulse and Kassandra’s heavy breaths against her skin. Arousal ached between her legs, and she bucked her hips forward to find friction against the other woman’s thigh. The ground felt like ice against her back, but it did little to quell the fire in her gut. 

“Kassandra,” she hissed, more alive than ever.

Kassandra growled low in her throat, past the edge of restraint. Her hands tore at Eivor’s armor, buckles snapping open as she peeled it away with untamed hunger. Eivor matched her pace. Just as wild, just as wanting.

Midnight found them tangled in one another, fingers clutching at scarred muscle, marking damp skin with streaks of red. Their hips moved in perfect rhythm, each thrust a rising storm, pleasure crashing through them like a tide. They were starved for each other, desperate, unrestrained. Mouths met between gasps, sharing a single breath through endless, aching kisses. 

Each touch only made them crave more, their hunger deepened, desire feeding upon itself.

And when the sun rose high over Athenian rooftops, they were still wrapped in each other’s arms, breathless and fulfilled that they had given, and received, all they could ever wish for.

To be continued . . .

part II // part IV

[sapphic-moon-wolf]

How the Greeks Make Love, Part II

Eivor has never seen the Aegean. Not until Kassandra took her to her homeland, where the sun warms the skin, and the people warm the heart.

Eivor x Kassandra

Lesbian Romance

Chapter II

Torches lined the streets, ivy curled around marble pillars, and the air smelled of argan oil and sweet wine. They approached a smaller agora, illuminated by violet lamps. Satin drapes enclosed the intimate space, where an open fountain stood at the center, brimming with colorful petals and olive leaves. Women’s voices echoed softly from within, some singing ballads and others reciting old poetry. It was a haven for any heart that needed soothing. 

Eivor paused right at the threshold, her brows rising in surprise. 

“What’s this?” she asked, glancing over at Kassandra. 

Kassandra smiled, teasing, as she lifted the curtain to welcome her in. 

“Paradise.”

Curious heads turned to look at the two warriors stepping inside the alcove. Younger and older women sat on cushions on marble floors and benches, pressing flowers and reading scrolls. Their faces were painted in soft blue and gold, lips like ripe berries and skin glowing. True muses that could easily inspire timeless works of art.

“Come,” Kassandra purred, her voice low and inviting as she slid her palm slowly up the Viking’s tattooed arm. 

“Let’s rest for a moment.”

Some of the girls laughed softly, with blushing cheeks and shimmering eyes. The look on Eivor’s face must’ve amused them terribly, yet she could not fault them for it. Their beauty left her mouth hanging open, blue eyes wide, awe-struck. 

“Yes. Let us… rest,” she smiled, shaking her head softly. 

A slightly older woman guided them toward a more intimate corner of the enclosure, where a carpet had been laid over the grass beneath an olive tree surrounded by white stone. Lamps hung low from its branches, casting golden light and warmth across the space. Transparent curtains swayed gently in the breeze, while bowls of fresh fruit and cups of wine were quietly set before them. From deeper within the sacred temple, the voices of women rose in song, echoing like a siren’s call.

Kassandra lowered herself on the cushions, her back resting against a marble pillar. She smiled at her companion, eyes half-lidded with mischief.

“Tell me, Eivor,” she began, raising a cup to her smiling lips. “Does the North have something like this?”

Eivor shook her head slowly, her gaze drifting across the dimly lit space. Silhouettes moved like smoke, long dresses trailing behind them, light as perfume and impossible to ignore. The Wolf-Kissed was not one to openly stare, but in that moment, she was charmed. Greek women were something else.

“We do have brothels in England, if that’s what this is.”

Kassandra threw her head back, a deep, rich laugh rising from her chest. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with the knuckle of one finger, still catching her breath.

“No, Eivor, it is not a brothel. It’s an art symposium. But only for women. They gather here to worship Aphrodite, Artemis, Demeter… through their art, music, and literature.”

Eivor listened without question as she slowly took a seat, her gaze drifting over the other warrior’s striking features. A smile that held both charm and defiance, sun-kissed skin glowing like gold beneath the lamp light. Of all the silk-draped women who danced past, Kassandra was the most beautiful. Those deep brown eyes seemed to effortlessly draw her in, even as temptation flowed around her. 

“Do you favor any particular lady here?” Eivor asked, pouring herself some wine. 

Kassandra sighed, amusement still lingering on her lips. 

“It is hard to choose one. This is a field full of flowers. All of them are beautiful, and every one is unique.” 

A beat passed. 

“But… I find Kore irresistible.”

“Kore?”

Kore was not a single person. She was a symbol. 

A young beauty, devoted to the ways of Persephone. When the maiden arrived, she was wearing a long, flowing white dress. A flower crown rested atop of her braided hair, ink-black curls spilling down her back all the way down to her hips. She walked with a timid smile, her gait so soft she could’ve been floating above the marble path. She was delicate, but powerful. Charming in a way that easily disarmed both warriors. 

Her presence alone could make one forget sorrow, pain, violence…

Eivor’s heart raced with a feeling of peace. She watched in silence, gaze steady, as Kore knelt gracefully beside Kassandra and filled her chalice with red wine. Kassandra cupped the girl’s chin, gently lifting her gaze. Her scarred thumb brushed over soft skin, trailing the beauty’s delicate lips as she silently admired her.

The young muse looked at her with a smile that was all warmth and feminine sensuality. 

Eivor’s grip on the chalice tightened, her gaze narrowing just slightly. Desire and jealousy coiled low in her chest, but she didn’t reach. Not yet. Watching had its own kind of pull, and the contrast between Kassandra’s strong body and Kore’s delicate curves was deeply erotic. 

The girl was there to perform, and she was a true artist at it. She sat cross-legged on the carpet and began to play the lyre. Her voice was like honey poured over Eivor’s heart. The sweetest sounds, the most gentle dance of fingers over chords. She looked like something surreal, forbidden, and tempting all in one. 

“There’s fire in her, and the gods painted her well,” she whispered to Kassandra as she drank. 

Kassandra only nodded, leaning down to rest on her elbow, her attention stolen by the delicate woman. Beautiful in every way, a master at playing the lyre, and a presence so soothing she forgot about the sword dangling at her belt. When the wine was half-finished, Kassandra slowly wrapped her hands around Kore’s hips and pulled her in. 

“Tha mas afíseis na se filísoume... na se angíxoume... agápi mou?”

Will you let us kiss you… touch you… my love?

The girl gasped, cheeks flushing at the sudden closeness. Her lyre slipped from her hands, landing softly among the cushions as her heart fluttered with forbidden excitement. Her eyes, blue as sapphires, flicked between the two warriors timidly. With a quiet nod, Kore gently bit into her lower lip as she draped her slender arms around Kassandra’s broad shoulders.

“Fysiká, ómorfi polemístria... Kai i fíli sou epísis?” 

“Of course, beautiful warrior… And your friend, too?”

The girl smiled as she glanced at Eivor. Kassandra leaned in, her warm breath making the sweet woman shiver as it caressed her throat.

“Ki aftí, an thélei na symmetáschei.”

Her too, if she wants to join.

She whispered just beneath the beauty’s ear, drawing a soft giggle in response. 

Kore settled right on her lap, tilting her head just so. Their lips nearly touched, and her heart raced faster. Eivor watched, narrowing her eyes at the exchange. She could tell they were talking about her, but her grasp of the Greek language was not quite that good.

“What’s going on?” she rasped, half-amused, and fully intrigued. 

Kassandra, still burrowed against the girl’s soft shoulder, answered in between languid kisses. 

“Oh… just asking our lovely little bard if she wants to enjoy us tonight.”

“Is that so?” 

The raven smirked, drawing her fingers lazily over the rim of her chalice. 

“Are you certain you want to share something so precious?“

Kassandra pulled back just enough to look at Eivor. Her eyes, dark like the midnight sky, were alive with passion not just for the girl in her arms, but the warrior who stood by her side. She didn’t even need to answer, her gaze said it all. Still, she whispered:

“With you, Eivor… I would share anything.”

Eivor could no longer stand still.

She abandoned her chalice on the marble bench and leaned closer. Her eyes burned with hunger as she felt Kassandra’s scent mixing with Kore’s sweet perfume. Desire pooled hot and quick in her gut, but she didn’t touch yet. She only watched as the two women embraced slowly, their mouths meeting in a dance of pure passion. 

And as Kassandra claimed the girl’s lips, her tongue parting those soft petals with practiced ease, her gaze never left Eivor.

To be continued...

part I // part III

[sapphic-moon-wolf]

How the Greeks Make Love

Eivor has never seen the Aegean. Not until Kassandra took her to her homeland, where the sun warms the skin, and the people warm the heart.

Eivor x Kassandra

Lesbian Romance

Chapter I

The large ship creaked as it approached the port of Piraeus. Turquoise waves lapped gently against the weathered wood, shimmering like precious stones beneath the early morning sun. Ahead, the docks bustled with merchants and Athenian soldiers. Colorful fabrics and hand-crafted pottery lined the market stalls while people haggled prices, much like anywhere around the world.

Yet the Greek shores felt different somehow. Warmer, in a way.

“So,” Eivor spoke as she leaned over the ship's banister. “This is your homeland?”

Kassandra smiled, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and dryness as she gazed at the busy harbor. It must’ve been centuries since she’d last stepped foot on Greek land, but the memories of that place were still fresh. 

“In a way,” she answered with a heavy breath.

“I was born in Lakonia, and… grew up somewhere else. But, Athens has a special place in my heart.”

Eivor nodded, sensing the slight shift in her companion’s tone. She didn’t press for answers, not now. But she saw how Kassandra’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

They were lodging somewhere in the heart of Athens.

The city looked different now. It was no longer a fortress of stone pillars and massive wooden gates reinforced by soldiers. People moved freely, wandering along cobblestone streets lined with pink bougainvillea and drifting silk curtains. 

Eivor gazed at the marble structures, awe-struck by the intricacy in every painted line. A timeless gem, beautiful in every detail, from the smallest stone to the tallest statue. Athens was shaped by history and art alike. It was no wonder that so many had tried to invade and steal it from the people who had built it, brick by brick.

“A sight worth the sagas,” she remarked as they entered an open agora. 

Temples stood tall on the rocky hills. The statue of Athena, although now worn by the passing of time, still rose like a living goddess over rooftops and fig trees. Kassandra was proud of this land, even though it had once been a place of loss, pain, and war. She came to a stop beside Eivor, following her gaze up the stone mountain. Nostalgia swelled in her chest, making it harder to breathe for a moment.

Eivor sensed it. That heaviness which came with an aching heart.

“What ails you?” 

She turned toward Kassandra, standing between her and the marble mountain ahead. Kassandra shook her head, a small, bitter smile touching her lips.

“It’s nothing,” she said, shifting her weight as if to distract herself.

But this time, Eivor did not let it pass.

“You’re aching,” she insisted, her voice low but gentle. 

Blue eyes darkened with worry as she reached for Kassandra’s hand. Fingers laced together, sharing warmth. Eivor’s thumb brushed over her scarred knuckles, patient and affectionate. She’d wait until Kassandra was ready to open her heart, but she would no longer let her bury that ache behind cold smiles and dry humor. 

As the sun began to set, they found a cozy corner in a tavern where they could feast and watch the sky shift from light blue to crimson gold. Kassandra spoke.

“A long time ago, plague overtook this city. A lot of good people passed away…” 

Eivor nodded, bringing a clay mug to her lips. Her attention was on Kassandra now, listening and holding space.

“Among them was a very good person. A friend of mine. Her name was Phoebe.”

The sky darkened, golden lines morphing into deep violet as the Ionian swallowed the last drop of daylight. Many sunsets had passed since she’d last spoken Phoebe’s name. But the memory of that cheeky little smile had never faded from her heart. 

“You would’ve loved her,” Kassandra laughed softly as she raised her wine, glancing over at Eivor. She couldn’t bring herself to share what had truly happened. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“She was stubborn, just like you.”

Eivor’s lips twitched into a gentle smirk as she reached over the table, brushing the tips of her fingers along the other woman’s wrist. A quiet way of saying ‘I’m here’. 

Whatever secrets were buried in these marble walls have withstood time, it seemed. The lives lost, the broken spirits of those who survived war and pain. Eivor could not undo the past, but she could be here now, and she would try to fill whatever emptiness still plagued Kassandra’s heart. 

“I am sure that if you two were to ever meet again, she’d be happy to see you,” she whispered like a secret between them. 

Kassandra met her gaze with a small smile. She shifted her arm, her own fingers reaching for Eivor’s on the table. Their hands came together, bound not only by warmth, but by a deep understanding and unspoken affection. They both knew what loss meant.

“Come. Athens is breathtaking at night,” Kassandra stood, tightening her hold on Eivor’s hand to tug her along. They left their half-finished meals on the table and headed towards the heart of the city. 

Men and women alike sat on marble benches, some chatting, others laughing with a cup in their hand. Bards played music of old, mandolins crying beautifully between their fingers. It was different from the cold North or the violent lands of England. A place with a dreamlike stillness.

People would turn their heads as Eivor passed by, dark tattoos visible on her throat and bare arms. Blond braids swayed over her shoulder, adorned with silver rings and bone beads. She was a stranger among them, one which inspired both fear and awe. And Kassandra felt her chest swell with pride as she walked beside her. 

Let them look.

“Where are you taking me?” Eivor asked, curious eyes wandering about the torch-lit streets. 

“Oh… somewhere you will always remember,” Kassandra smiled, and this time, a shadow of mischief lingered in her dark eyes. Eivor raised a brow, but she followed anyway.

She would follow her anywhere. 

To be continued… 

part II

[sapphic-moon-wolf]

I love seeing people create. You don't need to reach a certain 'standard' for your art to have value. The simple fact that you bring something beautiful into this world is value, in itself.

[sapphic-moon-wolf]

Don't Let The Night End - Part V (final)

What if Eivor and Kassandra never said goodbye on The Isle of Skye?

Eivor x Kassandra

Lesbian Romance

The hut felt cold and joyless now. Eivor knew this moment would come, but it didn’t hurt any less. She stretched one arm across the furs, fingers clawing for the last drop of warmth Kassandra had left behind. Her blue eyes darkened with sorrow, like the sea does when storms loom heavy overhead.

She was torn, but there was nothing she could do now. 

Nothing but mourn.

She stepped outside in full armor, though beneath the weight of it, she still carried Kassandra’s love written softly into her skin. Bite marks and bruises. Along the forest path, she searched for footprints in the snow, but there were none. Only wind and a barren land the winter sun could not warm.

“You’ve given me bliss, just to take it away… is Valhalla any sweeter, or will I carry this pain in the afterlife?”

Eivor lifted her gaze to the sky, to where her gods must have watched her now, laughing. How foolish humans were, to love so fiercely and so fast. To give themselves whole, only to be left carrying absence and longing. No tears fell, but her sea-blue eyes were heavy with it.

The image of Kassandra suddenly came back to her. 

Warm, full of life, laughing from across the longhouse. Just the night before, they had crashed a wedding, danced and drank until their legs could no longer hold them. Now, Eivor was forced to live on with only the memory of the woman who had once made her complete.

She walked all the way to the edge of the cliffs. In the distance, she caught sight of Kassandra’s ship, already halfway across the sea. Its sails stood high, shivering in the wind. Somewhere aboard it, a piece of Eivor’s heart was being carried away into the unknown.

But Kassandra did leave something behind; the leather strap she used to tie her braid with. 

Eivor held it wrapped around her hand like something sacred, thumb brushing over the course edges with the same affection she offered her. She clenched her jaw and brought the leather up, closing her eyes for a moment. It still smelled like her. Argan oil, jasmine, something warm.

Eivor inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the scent of love and memory. What wouldn’t she give to be holding her instead, just one last time. 

“Looking for someone?”

That voice – Kassandra.

Eivor’s eyes snapped open, as if violently pulled from a dream. She glanced over her shoulder, and there she was, basked in the dawn’s golden glow, chestnut hair spilling over her broad shoulders. Kassandra sat on a rock, her arms over her thighs, wearing that same charming smile on her lips. An image of absolute perfection.

But was it real?

“Kassandra,” Eivor breathed, turning around to face her fully. She glanced back at the sea, to where the ship was, without a doubt, still sailing away. 

“I thought you–”

“I was about to.”

Eivor’s brows furrowed, confused, but her heart was racing. The surge of relief that rose within her swept away every trace of doubt and pain she felt just moments ago. Her scarred mouth twitched into a hopeful smile as she whispered:

“You stayed...”

Kassandra nodded, slowly getting up. She was real, in the flesh, not just a trick of longing. 

“The night was… just a little bit too short,” she said, half-amused, half-honest. She approached Eivor with slow steps, snow crunching beneath her heavy boots, bronze armor clinking softly.

“It was,” Eivor breathed, unable to look away, or even blink. She was stunned, flooded with joy.

Kassandra turned her head towards the endless sea, watching the waves shimmer like precious jewels in the early morning sun. The mist swallowed her ship whole, leaving a pleasant silence behind. Eivor followed her gaze, a hint of worry ghosting across her weathered brow.

“I cannot stay forever,” Kassandra whispered. 

Eivor swallowed the lump in her throat, slowly shaking her head.

“I’d never ask that of you,” she whispered back.

Above them, Synnin cawed, circling the rose-tinted skies. The sound of the sea was oddly comforting, even as the two warriors stood there, facing an uncertain future. All they could do was delay the moment that would eventually tear them apart. But, for now, they were together.

“Just one more night?” Kassandra asked.

Eivor smiled and let out a steady breath. She curled her fingers more tightly around the leather strap and moved closer, her gaze lingering with gentle affection on the other woman.

“Just one more night,” she murmured, drawing her knuckles along Kassandra’s cheek. 

Just one more night.

Or perhaps, forever.

End

part IV

[sapphic-moon-wolf]

Don't Let The Night End - Part IV

What if Eivor and Kassandra never said goodbye on The Isle of Skye?

Eivor x Kassandra

Warnings: Mature Scenes (not suitable for readers under 18)

Lesbian Romance

Hold me until I forget where I end and you begin.

Eivor lingered between Kassandra’s legs, holding her as she shuddered with aftershocks of pleasure. Her scarred lips pressed to her inner thigh, leaving languid kisses over that perfect, smooth skin. The beauty arched against each touch, her chest rising with deep, satisfied breaths. Every soft line of her body caught the firelight like gold, making her seem like something pulled from a dream.

“Gods, Eivor…”

She moaned, smiling.

“That was…”

Eivor tilted her head, blue eyes trailing over the other woman’s warm skin with sacred devotion. She dragged her inked fingers along her navel and ribs, caressing every scar and goosebump with slow affection. Her palm stopped to rest on one of Kassandra’s breasts, thumb rolling over her soft nipple.

“Shall I start again?” 

The raven murmured in a deep rasp, hot breath ghosting over sensitive folds. Kassandra answered with a soft laugh, her dull nails tracing muscle and ink before slipping into the warrior’s tight blonde braids.

“Yes.”

And Eivor did. 

This time, she slowed her pace to a crawl, lips and tongue working against her smooth vulva with deep reverence. Each brush of that perfect skin against her mouth felt like something holy, almost forbidden, stirring her arousal like no battle ever could.

The night carried on, the snowstorm howling at the windows. 

Inside, the two warriors took turns pleasuring each other, tongues dancings, breaths mingling, hands exploring. By the time the wind had stilled and the fire burned low, Eivor lay on her side with Kassandra pressed close behind her. Her body was spent, but desire had yet to go out. It was not just lust for the flesh alone, but an aching need to never be without the other woman’s warmth. She gazed at the hearth quietly, flames dancing in her blue eyes like blades. 

On this night, she tasted peace in her arms, and now she didn’t know how to live without it.

“Again?”

Kassandra murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. 

Eivor parted her thighs in silent invitation, a subtle offering of trust. Warm fingers traced near, slow and knowing, calling forth pleasure without haste. Each feather-light touch made the raven grind against her, pleading without words. They embraced again, rolling over on the furs, slick with sweat and arousal. Pleasure rose quickly, but Kassandra slowed, drawing back before her wolf could climax again. 

She held her there with nothing but her gaze, dark and smoldering as embers. 

Then, she began anew.

Her touch remained light, deliberate, stoking the fire without feeding it. The restraint was sweet agony, but Eivor neither fought nor begged for more. She only yielded further, hips rising once in quiet appeal, her expression tightening with a soft, aching desperation.

“Kassandra,” she threatened in a deep rasp.

But Kassandra only smiled and prolonged that agony. Slow, sensual, edging, denying that final push.

When Eivor’s throat rumbled with a muffled growl, she caught her by the jaw and drew her gaze up, forcing their eyes to meet. Sky blue and honeyed earth. Her thumb traced the raven’s lower lip, parting it slowly as she leaned in. In the same breath, Kassandra pushed two fingers inside, stealing a moan from her mouth as pleasure finally broke free. Eivor arched into her, her need answered at last.

“Don’t let the night end…”

The Wolf-Kissed howled, trembling.

But the sun rose all the same, as faithful as the sea meeting the shore. Eivor woke to an empty hut, the fire long dead, the space beside her cold. 

Kassandra was gone. And she took all the warmth with her.

To be continued…

part III / part V

[sapphic-moon-wolf]

Don't Let The Night End - Part III

What if Eivor and Kassandra never said goodbye on The Isle of Skye?

Eivor x Kassandra

Warnings: Mature Scenes (not suitable for readers under 18)

Lesbian Romance

You never know how much you’ll miss someone until you’ve tasted their absence.

Eivor dreaded the moment dawn would break the sky open. The more she touched Kassandra, the deeper the ache took root, settling in the most hidden parts of her soul. But the thought of parting in the morning only fed the fire, making it burn brighter.

Lips met again, this time more desperate, as if every breath tasted foreign unless she took it from Kassandra’s mouth. Their tongues brushed and tangled, and when Eivor finally relented, it was only to experience the thrilling certainty of being wanted back.

“Kassandra…” she breathed her name like a prayer, only to feel the other woman smile against her lips.

That damn smile. 

Eivor would burn the world to see it every night and day, until the gods took her.

She pulled back just enough to unclip the Raven Clan brooch that held her cloak together, letting the heavy fabric tumble to the floor. Her chestplate followed, then gauntlets, metal and leather colliding in a forgotten pile next to the empty tankards. Kassandra’s hands moved, unbuckling belts and pulling straps, helping her out of her tunic. 

Ancient tattoos marked the supple strength of the Viking’s chest and navel, runes and ravens coiling along her arms and shoulders like living threats. Kassandra exhaled softly, smiling, and laid one palm over Eivor’s heart. That untamed rhythm answered her touch like a war drum and she caught her lip between her teeth, eyes darkening with invitation.

Their shadows stretched on the small hut’s walls, dancing together as they kissed again.

Eivor soon found herself pinned, arms high above her head on the floor. Kassandra locked both of her wrists in one hand as she leaned over her, claiming her throat with unleashed hunger. Teeth dragged across flushed skin, pulling until violets bloomed over her pale complexion. She followed each mark with a kiss, savoring the way Eivor arched into her touch.

“Lay still…” she whispered.

But Eivor groaned, jaw tense, baring her teeth like a wolf in heat. 

Her skin burned everywhere Kassandra touched, and oh, she touched. Slowly, firmly, taking her time to explore every stretch of that perfect body. She cupped Eivor’s breast, holding it still as she curled her tongue over her hardened peak. A bite followed, sharp and quick, and deeply possessive.

Eivor’s breath hitched as sensation rolled through her. Her hips bucked upwards, desperate for connection. The ink on her arms rippled as she clenched her fists, muscles flexing, needy and impatient. But she didn’t push Kassandra off. She let her lead. Because she secretly longed for every sweet, drawn-out moment of that torture.

Sea-blue eyes rolled shut, scarred lips parting with a deep breath as the raven finally let go.

Kassandra’s lips found her other breast, the tip of her tongue dancing over trembling skin. She closed her mouth around the rosy nipple, rolling it between her teeth. Strong, Spartan hips lowered just enough to press against the other woman, thrusting once.

Eivor groaned as she turned her head, sinking her teeth into her own arm to ease some of the ache and muffle a needy moan. She wanted to be hers. Completely.

“Jeg vil ha deg… nå...”

I want you… now.

Clothes were thrown across the floor, fabric ripping, buckles clinking, until both warriors embraced each other fully nude. Eivor grabbed her lover’s thick, brown hair, holding her firmly as she took her lips with desire set free. The leather thread in Kassandra’s braid came loose, wild locks spilling around her strong shoulders. 

They rolled over. 

Kassandra’s back hit the furs, chestnut hair framing her face like something holy. Mouths clashed again, burning with unspoken want until they shared one breath. Eivor traced her way down her beloved’s chest, lips lingering, teeth grazing with intent, leaving her own mark on that beautiful skin.

Mine.

She glanced up, blue eyes shadowed with passion. Slowly, she parted her lover’s thighs, settling one leg on her broad shoulder. Kassandra met her gaze with deep yearning, lips parting in a breath that sizzled with arousal.

That was all Eivor needed to hear.

She dragged her flat tongue up along Kassandra’s vulva, from her heated core to her trembling pearl. Her grip on those sturdy hips would tighten more each time she would shudder, pinning her back down, forcing her to endure the slow dance of oral pleasure. This was not something meant to be rushed. 

The Raven closed her eyes, diving deep into the taste of the woman she held. Soft lips closed over her clit carefully, tongue rolling from side to side, teasing the pleasure out of her. Kassandra’s head fell back, spine arching gracefully. One hand locked at the back of her lover’s head to guide her, the other stretched across the floor, clawing at the furs. 

Eivor devoured each breathless moan like it was prayer. She tilted her head, pressing her tongue in between those velvet folds, tasting the heat of her. It was divine.

“Eivor…”

Fingers followed, parting her with careful strokes, and lingering on the warmth she found there. She looked up as her hand moved with knowing patience, drawing closer to the center of Kassandra’s need. Two fingers slipped inside, curling against the spot where sensation bloomed and begged to be answered. Eivor’s mouth wrapped around the rising pulse in her clit, suckling gently as she built a steady rhythm deep within. 

Hips trembled underneath her grip, but the raven didn’t stop. 

Not until Kassandra twisted against her with a deep orgasm that left her body shaking.

To be continued…

part II / part IV

[sapphic-moon-wolf]

Don't Let The Night End - Part II

What if Eivor and Kassandra never said goodbye on The Isle of Skye?

Eivor x Kassandra

No warnings apply (yet)

Lesbian Romance

Snowflakes danced outside the barred windows of a lonely hut. Inside, the fire burned low, filling the space with warmth and golden light. 

Two women lay on a wolf pelt next to the hearth, smiling and chatting about everything and nothing all at once. Kassandra spoke of her travels, Eivors spoke of her victories. They were soothed by the sound of each other’s voices, by fleeting touches when their hands reached for the same tankard of mead.

Every time Eivor felt Kassandra’s fingertips trail over her knuckles, her breath would catch and her heart would race just a little faster. Those emotions stayed hidden beneath a wall of stoicism and control. But deep down, she wished the other woman would touch her more. 

“So, when I reached the shores of Messara, I was bombarded by Minotaur merch and all kinds of scammers,” the Spartan laughed, her voice rich like honeyed wine. 

“And did you purchase any?” Eivor asked with a lazy grin. 

She brought the tankard to her scarred lips as her gaze slowly dragged over Kassandra’s beautiful features, from those deep brown eyes to the sharp edge of her jaw. 

“No, I was tricked into paying for a ‘tour’,” Kassandra laughed again.

And oh, how deeply the sound of it settled into Eivor’s very bones. Her eyelids lowered, slow and heavy with unspoken want. The pulse at Kassandra’s throat fluttered like a trapped bird beneath sun-kissed skin. For a single, dangerous moment, Eivor longed to feel it beneath her grasp.

To hold it still.

To pull her closer…

“Eivor?” 

Silence.

The fire crackled softly, a gust of wind embraced the hut, but neither of them spoke at that moment. Eivor no longer bothered to hide the desire pooling in her chest, nor did she try to come up with an excuse. Her lips parted with a soft breath as she tilted her head back, meeting those beautiful dark eyes again.

She slowly set the empty tankard on the floor and reached for her, not touching yet, only hovering close. 

Tattooed fingers traced the air near Kassandra’s jaw, curling as if they longed to hold her and never let go. Kassandra did not move or speak, but she did not pull away either. Instead, she placed her own tankard beside Eivor’s, and smiled.

Gods, that smile. Those perfect lips.

It made the Wolf-Kissed forget every promise she’d made to herself not to fall for her. Not to stray from her mission. But when that gorgeous woman leaned in, letting her cheek brush against her waiting fingers, Eivor’s control suddenly snapped.

The floor creaked from the sudden movement. 

Armor clanked, leather groaned, braids fluttered.

Eivor straddled the other woman’s hips, powerful thighs holding her pinned against the furs as she hovered above and cradled her beautiful face in her hands. Their lips lingered close, parted on a breath that trembled with need. Slowly, Kassandra slid her hands to the small of Eivor’s back.

“Do it,” she whispered, her voice thick with seduction. 

And Eivor did.

She grabbed a hold of that pretty jaw and held her still as she devoured her lips. Not gentle, not kind, but like a starved animal that was finally given a taste of passion. Teeth dragged over velvet skin, urging her to open her mouth. To finally let her in.

They battled for dominance, both unrelenting, both already drunk on each other. Tongues and lips clashed, breath slipping away until their chests burned and their clothing felt unbearably tight.

Kassandra broke free with a smile, that same damn charming smile, her head falling back against the floor. But Eivor didn’t let her go, not yet. She dragged her inked thumb along those soft lips, drunk on warmth, on closeness, on her.

“Was that it?” 

Kassandra asked in a whisper so intoxicating it sent a tremor through Eivor’s knees. The wolf answered with a smirk, silently accepting the challenge. Her blue eyes darkened, her grip at that graceful throat tightened, and she leaned in closer.

“I haven’t even begun…”

She murmured, low and raspy, both as a promise and as a threat

To be continued…

part I / part III

[sapphic-moon-wolf]

Don't Let The Night End

What if Eivor and Kassandra never said goodbye on The Isle of Skye?

Eivor x Kassandra

No warnings apply

Lesbian Romance

Chapter 1

Bards sang and wedding-goers danced until the small hours of the night. The nightmares were gone, the Isle of Skye was safe again, but somehow, Eivor didn’t feel at peace. From the far end of the longhouse, Edith approached with a smile, eternally grateful that the Wolf-Kissed had traveled far to save her people. 

“Was she right, by the way? Did you part ways with that girl, Randvi, as she foretold?” she asked.

“No… Randvi was… never on the Isle of Skye,” Eivor answered with a faint smile, but her gaze wandered past Edith. She watched Kassandra head towards the exit, and suddenly, she felt a tightness in her chest. An ache she could not explain. 

“Ah, well… even Valka makes mistakes,” Edith laughed, obviously in good spirits.

“Still, it’s good you didn’t need to say goodbye to a friend.”

Eivor’s smile vanished. 

Her sea-blue eyes lingered on the doors of the longhouse just enough to catch Kassandra turn and bow her head one last time. To see her vanish into the night like something pulled from a dream. For a moment, Eivor forced herself to laugh again, pretending not to feel the pressing emptiness in her chest. She tried to match Edith’s joy.

But she couldn’t.

“Forgive me, Edith…” she whispered, leaning in close. “I must be on my way.”

The sounds of cheer and music faded somewhere in the background as Eivor rushed out the door, her sharp eyes scanning the village with something close to desperation. Kassandra was quick, that much she knew, and if she wasn’t fast enough, she could risk losing her for good. 

She mounted her loyal steed and rushed down the dirt path towards the woods. The crisp winter air kissed her cheeks, but nothing stung more than the absence of the woman who’d kept her company these past few nights. That warm smile, those sly, honey-brown eyes, the scent of her… like summer rain and sweet wine. Kassandra was there, by her side all along.

Eivor didn’t slow down. Not until she spotted that familiar shape walking along the cliffs towards a waiting Spartan ship. She pulled on the reins and her steed halted with a sharp neigh, hot breath misting through the dark air.

“Kassandra!!” 

She shouted.

Kassandra paused mid-step, but she didn’t face her. Her tall frame caught the moonlight like carved marble, like something mythical, too good to be true. But Eivor noticed the way her shoulders tensed, holding back the urge to turn around. Doing so would’ve made it more difficult for them both.

She knew it, too.

But that didn’t stop her from dismounting her horse and approaching the other woman with firm, certain steps. The Wolf-Kissed was a stoic woman, a warrior who survived blood feuds and the unforgiving fjords of the North. 

How could she voice her fears out loud? 

How could she tell her that it felt wrong to let her go? 

“Kass-”

“Eivor. No.” 

Eivor’s body tensed at once. The ache in her chest amplified, pressing down on her heart, locking her breath in her throat. She clenched her jaw, but refused to look away.

“Just one more night,” she whispered. Not as a command, but as a plea. For once, and perhaps never again, she let her pride sink beneath the weight of mercy.

Kassandra’s gaze drifted to the ship still waiting at the shore, the breeze threading through her auburn braid. After a long, silent pause, she turned back to the mighty Viking. Her eyes, old with centuries and heavy with memory, reflected the very ache Eivor felt.

Yearning.

Kassandra shook her head softly, a dry smile twitching at the corner of her mouth.

“Just one more night,” she repeated.

One more night, but it had to last forever.

To be continued… 

part II