#ac fandom

updated masterlist! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

started: 11/10/2024 (mm/dd/yyyy) last updated: 05/02/2025

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉ ╰─ ♡ 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣'𝙨 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙙 (𝙖𝙘) ୨୧┇ac edits ♡ Codextober 2024: Day 31 - Family ♡ Soldier, Poet, King, but it’s the Kenway Family. ♡ Haytham realizes how alike his father and son are. ♡ “sakataterihwáhten” ♡ "Too late to tell him I’m sorry.” ♡ if they only knew. ♡ the “you’re gay?” meme but it’s with the colonial brotherhood ♡ what really happened at the battle of louisbourg (1758) ♡ connor kenway / ratonhnhaké:ton supremacy ☝️

୨୧┇ac fanfics/oneshots/drabbles ☆ can i just say how much i enjoy long distance relationship fanfics of shaytham ☆ i think shaytham should get married ☆ i just know haytham would be the type to keep a locket with a picture of shay on it ☆ there's just something so incredibly beautiful about growing old with the one you love. ☆ i just know that if haytham ever knew that his own son was named after his enemy’s deceased child he’d be absolutely enraged. ☆ A Dinner and a Dance ☆ (NSFT) Forgive Me ☆ Haul Away Your Anchor ☆ (NSFT) Sweet Nothings

୨୧┇ac fanart ☾ father and son bonding time ☾ haytham and baby connor ☾ templar!connor's portrait ☾ haytham during his service with the coldstreams ☾ the grandmaster's best wingman: ...his own son ☾ "please don't cry, master kenway..." ☾ shaytham sketches i made at 2am ☾ shay comes home; good old banter ensues ☾ messy sketch of shaytham kissing ☾ a day off. ☾ haytham day 2024! with ziio and connor :D ☾ (NSFT) took the 'hunting dog' title too seriously.. ☾ my blorbo... ☾ connor personalizing his robes ☾ sketches of ratonhnhaké:ton's family ☾ jenny spilling kenway family drama at afternoon tea ☾ they're defo flirting ☾ STOP FLIRTING!!! ☾ slow dancing with shaytham ☾ managing the homestead’s accounts ☾ drew the husbands! ☾ what if connor met jenny at queen anne’s square after haytham’s death? ☾ at the captain’s cabin ☾ the benefits of taking an older woman as a lover ☾ what a charming man! ☾ him <3 ☾ altair and his big, beautiful hazelnut eyes ☾ “let someone else take care of you for once, haytham.” ☾ haytham after sending shay away to find the precursor box

୨୧┇ac fanart (cont.) ☾ "leave this place and never return." ☾ a well-furnished "chest" ☾ smol haytham :3 ☾ connor and shay do the hear me out cake challenge ☾ a glitch in the animus ☾ modern au shaytham (circa 1995) ☾ connor and edward teach haytham how to rig a sail ☾ desecrating making tea with ratonhnhaké:ton ☾ “oh no, he’s hot…” ☾ been playing black flag again and i drew my favorite templar from the game ☾ they obviously have a very professional relationship and definitely don’t fuck in the office- ☾ this was funnier in my head ☾ very old ac fanart ☾ fem! shaytham designs ☾ the desmond files in ac black flag made me so emo ☾ *gasp* haytham being vulnerable?!?!? i can’t believe my eyes!!!! ☾ they’re love rivals ☾ something about connor with green eyes and freckles…. ☾ there. haytham in a maid outfit. ☾ the kenway siblings <3 ☾ ziio and jenny projecting their period cramps onto haytham ☾ just wanted to draw lafayette spoiling connor with gifts lol ☾ belated happy birthday edward kenway ☾ who done transported him into hamilton ☾ beautiful women be upon ye ☾ templar shay growing out his pornstache ☾ pov: your grandmistress is suddenly pregnant and your order’s hunting dog keeps looking at her like she wants that cookie so effing bad ☾ saw this stupid meme on instagram and i had to redraw it ☾ what has achilles been feeding this boy… ☾ go templars go ☾ (NSFT) drops this and fucking dies ☾ ohh he wants him so bad… ☾ headcanon: haytham had sketches of ziio in his journal ﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍ ⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉ ╰─ ♡ 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙝 𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙡𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 (𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙫) *this includes the napoleonic era btw ୨୧┇frev fanart ☾ more old art with napoleon and josephine ﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍ ⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

"Eivor!"

The orange-haired table maiden stood beside Eivor's bed, disappointment etched on her face as she rolled her eyes viewing the lifeless drengir in the deepest of sleeps, "Nine Realms," she muttered, tapping her foot impatiently but the Jarlskona remained unfazed, a warrior turned inanimate by the previous night's revelry in ale. "Eivor!" Randvi exclaimed, shoving her gently but still nothing... With a sigh, Randvi conceded defeat.

"Guess I'll handle it myself-"

She straightened her shoulders and strode from Eivor's room into the bustling hall of the longhouse already teeming with life and merriment as the arriving guests for Eivor's birthday celebration sipped on ale and snacked on the fruits of their labor. "Friends, family, allies-" She began, her voice ringing clear amidst the cheer. "Thank you for joining us on this momentous occasion. For lodging, please see Sunniva, who will guide you to your stay-"

Cheers erupted as guests from far and wide from Francia, Dublin, Isle of Sky, Vinland, and even their homeland of Norway – converged on Ravensthorpe. The city, built brick by brick, nail by nail, log by log... Instigated by Eivor and Sigurd themselves, finished by their clan that buzzed with excitement to hail her on such a glorious day for the amazing things she's done. Randvi took a deep breath and began the task of managing the influx. As morning bled into the noon, the drone of bees and birdsong filling the air. Guests huddled around fire pits all across Ravensthorpe, enjoying the afternoon before the evening feast. All the while, Randvi frantically welcomed new arrivals feeling her eyes darting towards Eivor's room every so often.

"Why is she still asleep?" She muttered in panic when a familiar voice rang out. Turning, she saw her ex-husband, Sigurd, pushing through the throng. "Have you seen Eivor?" He inquired, "King Ceowulf and Jarl Hemmingson will be here soon. She wouldn't want to miss that." He cast a proud gaze over their lively city, a reflection of his own satisfaction. "Still sleeping," Randvi confessed with a wry smile. "We may have overindulged last night..."

"We?"

Sigurd exclaimed pointing at himself as he gave Randvi the friendly reminder that it was Eivor and his ex wife that caused all commotion last night- starting with the ale house fights for their hand in marriage when it wasn't even a consideration in the first place. **'These women...'** Sigurd thought shaking his head as he heard the horns of King Ceowulf and Jarl Hemming's arrival. "Shit..." Sigurd said panning back to Eivor's room with no shuffled movements. "Wake her-Now!" Sigurd commanded as Randvi took off back to Eivor's rooms in anticipation.

"Eivor enough!"

Randvi flung through the doorway and stormed in finding the Jarlskona slumped on the edge of the bed- a groan escaping her lips as she clutched her head. "Gods above." Randvi muttered, the sight mirrored in Eivor's throbbing skull – a testament to the previous night's revelry. Even the legendary drengir couldn't resist the allure of spiced mead and ale. Randvi crossed her arms, a hint of amusement battling the urgency in her voice, "Five glorious hours, Eivor. Five. And all it took was the blaring horn of Vili Hemmingson to finally break your ale-induced slumber."

Eivor attempted to rise in her defense, but Randvi silenced her with a well-aimed tunic. "Get ready-" she declared. "Half of Europe is here to celebrate you. Make yourself… presentable, for Odin's sake." With that, Randvi swept out, leaving Eivor to her throbbing head and a growing sense of dread. The Jarlskona flopped back onto the bed, exhaustion warring with a dull ache behind her eyes. "Just let me sleep-" She mumbled, burying her face in the pillow as a hand instinctively went to her forehead. 'Wait… why is everyone here?' Then realization struck like a lightning bolt.

"Shit," she groaned, her memories flooding back. "It's my birthday."

-

Today was indeed her birthday- the sounds of laughter and merriment filtered through the walls, a jarring counterpoint to the turmoil simmering within her. A day that would’ve have been filled with joy, yet- a heavy weight settled in her chest casted a shadow of memories- the echo of past celebrations with her parents, their laughter and warmth... threatened to overwhelm her. Eivor reached, her fingers brushing the hilt of her hidden blade. A cold comfort and reminder of the harsh reality that had taken her parents from her. 'They wouldn't want to see me like this.' She thought turning her attention to the blank wall before her.

Pushing the weight of grief aside, she lifted her chin, a flicker of defiance in her steely gaze. Today may not be the joyous occasion it once was, but she wouldn't let the shadows win. She would celebrate, for her clan, for her Ravensthorpe, and for the memory of her parents who would have wanted her to be strong.

Clad in her clan colors, Eivor surveyed herself with a critical eye. The seafoam silk tunic felt cool and luxurious against her skin- the black belt and cotton pants in contrast to the silver strings bound together by golden beads dangling from her belt- a symbol of her jarlskona status as the servants wove matching metal through her hair. She adjusted her cuffs- the fabric brushing against her calloused fingers. "There," she murmured, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "Presentable, at least."

Eivor gave a final nod to her servants, dismissing them with a silent gratitude. Alone in the room, she sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of the coming celebration settling upon her. A choked whisper escaped her lips, "I miss you-" Her gaze drifted skyward, a silent plea to the gods where she imagined her parents watching. "-I only wish you were here..." Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back fiercely.

Today, she wouldn't let grief consume her.

She took a deep breath clenching her fists as a surge of determination replaced the sorrow, enabling her to leave the room. This wasn't just a celebration; it was a personal battle, a test of her strength. After all, It had been years since she last celebrated a birthday, given everything her and her clan went through. And even during those times was only accompanied by her brother and friends. This? Was a feast for their Jarlskona, their ally, their Hero of England and with a resolute stride, she walked from her bed to the war room, the pounding of her heart a war drum against her ribs when she paused behind the massive throne momentarily blocking her from view.

A flicker of doubt crossed her face, but it was quickly replaced by a glint of defiance. She peeked around the corner, and the sight that took her breath away. The hall was a sea of cheering faces, a vibrant tapestry woven from her allies and friends. All of them from distant lands, here for her. Eivor's lips curved into a genuine smile, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of surprise and appreciation. It was as if a switch had been flipped. She took a step from behind the throne, then another and another. Her footsteps carried, from the metal clink of her boots, her beads and jewels- announcing her arrival hearing the hall fall silent. She scanned the room, eyes lowered with a grin and opened her warms "Welcome..." The room erupted in a thunderous, "SKAL!" as horns and helmets soared into the air- people surging forward, eager to embrace the Wolf-Kissed and begin the celebration of her birthday.

Tekla: "Aye, the mighty wolf-kissed was born this day 26 winters ago-"

Gunnar: "I was there yuh know. When she was born. Held her wee' body in my arms. Who would've known I was holding the future Jarl of Ravensclan! Ha Ha Ha"

Eivor, perched on the table and leaned forward, captivated by the rapt attention of the crowd telling tale of a youthful antics that had them roaring with laughter. The sound a balm for her weary soul. A genuine smile bloomed on her face, the first true happiness she'd felt in a long time as she suddenly heard footsteps approached from behind.

"There you are!"

Randvi exclaimed, a playful smile tugging at her lips with Sigurd trailing behind her- a hint of amusement in his eyes as he threw his arm around his sister and exclaimed, "We've been searching for you!" with a wide grin making Eivor suspicious as she raise a brow. They overlooked the crowd as Sigurd pulled her through, the buzzing civilians clapping her on the back on the way out of the longhouse taking her directly to-

"Vili??"

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as Vili turned, his imposing figure accentuated against the golden sky and silhouette broader than before. Eivor's heart skipped a beat as she approached him, a grin curving on their lips. His beard, now a fuller and darker, clung to his sharp jawline with rugged charm- a richer frame to his face. Yet, it was the mischievous glint in his deep blue eyes, unchanged since their childhood, that truly stirred her. "Wolf-Kissed!" He opened his arms wide and brought her in for a bear hug, her arms wrapping snuggly around his neck that carried a tad longer than the common curtesy. She melted into his embrace, the familiar scent of pine and leather- a calming elixir and balm for her hugr.

For a moment, the world narrowed to the rhythm of their hearts. "Ahh- Happy Birthday." He sighed out, regretfully letting her down as Eivor cocked her head, her hands gently on his shoulders to get a close look at his beard. He studied her face feeling her fingers trace through the rough stubble of his jaw- her touch light and teasing. "You've let it grow," she vexed, her gaze locked on his. "My people say it makes me more striking." Vili replied, a hint of arrogance masking the vulnerability in his eyes for her approval. "Do you like it... Wolf-Kissed?" His voice was a husky purr, and Eivor felt a shiver run down her spine. She stepped back, their gazes locked, the promise of their shared secret hanging heavy in the air.

"Just reminds me of the time you wished for a beard of your own at the tender age of 12 winters..." Vili grinned, the memory painting his face with warmth as he chuckled. He recalled the sticky mess of sap and the clumps of sheep fur clinging stubbornly for days afterwards. Their laughter intertwined, a warm melody filling the crisp air. "Oh, hush now, Wolf-Kissed," He retorted, feigning offense. "That beard was a work of art! Besides-" He added with a mischievous glint, "-Winter's teeth bite deep in Snottingham, even for a Jarl. One must be..." He leaned closer, his hand gently cupping her chin, "...prepared." His whisper tickled her skin, and his eyes held hers for a stolen moment before he released her with a final wink.

"Ah so, in reality-" Eivor teased, her voice laced with playful challenge, "-you only braved the swan road to escape fickle English weather. Hardly the stuff of sagas, is it? Not like you were born amidst the howling blizzards of Norway." She folded her arms, swaying her hips with a subtle confidence that belied the suppressed grin tugging at her lips. Vili couldn't help but scoff, his cheeks warming beneath his beard. "Perhaps not," he conceded, his gaze locking with hers. "But even the fiercest drengir appreciates a warm hearth now and then- wouldn't you agree, Wolf-Kissed?"

Eivor felt a flutter in her chest at his words, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine. She met his gaze, her own eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and something more. "A warm hearth... and good company-" she countered, her voice barely above a whisper. Vili stepped closer, the air between them crackling with unspoken desires. He reached out, his calloused hand gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Indeed," he murmured, his voice husky, "Good company is worth braving any storm for." Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. But before either could speak, Trygve's booming voice cut through the air, shattering the intimate spell. "My Lords! Your gift is ready." He declared, his enthusiasm oblivious to the charged atmosphere. Eivor blinked, reluctantly breaking the connection with Vili. "Come, wolf-kissed," He said, his voice regaining its usual playful jilt, "I have something for you."

As they approached the docks, Eivor's curiosity simmered in her like water to fire trying to withstand Vili's antics... The way he'd glanced back at her with that enticing grin, mirroring her own- only fueling her intrigue further. 'Arse-stick...' She thought with a chuckle. Her arms remaining folded as a subtle shield against the anticipation that danced in her chest as Vili strode confidently toward his sleek river steed—a longship docked among the others, awaiting its haul of gifts.

Crew members bustled about, unloading cargo, until a particularly ornate box, marked with bold strokes of blue and yellow paint, was presented directly to Vili. His grin widened, and Eivor felt a flutter in her stomach "Whats this?" She asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and anticipation, watching as Vili held the box in front of him and slowly lifted the lid. "For you, wolf-kissed." He said, his voice low and rich. Her eyes widened as he revealed the contents. It was a beautifully adorned axe. The handle was wrapped in her signature seafoam green—her clan colors—the hilt gleaming with gold, and the head was forged from pure iron with a razor-sharp steel edge.

Eivor's breath hitched. She gingerly took the axe from Vili, her fingers tracing the intricate raven etched into the grain of the weapon. Runes, symbols of power and protection- adorned the blade, their meanings a mystery she longed to unravel. She knew Vili must have spent countless hours explaining every detail to the blacksmith as a fiery warmth spread through her chest. Why would he go to such lengths for her? The question lingered in the air, unspoken but heavy with significance.

Eivor gently took the axe, her fingers grazing along the smooth cool metal of the hilt. She touched the edge, a whisper of a cut forming from even the gentlest touch as a bead of blood dripped down her finger "Deadly," She breathed, her voice hushed with awe. Vili's face bloomed into a smile that could melt glaciers as he watched her test the axe's balance, swinging it with practiced ease in an elegant dance- Pride radiated from him as his gaze fixed on the confident smile that blossomed on Eivor's face, a delicate blush coloring her cheeks with a grin wide enough to show her canines. With a final flourish, she halted abruptly, the axe coming to rest in its sheath at her belt with a satisfying click.

"I like it..."

Eivor's heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and wonder. How could she ever repay him for something so meaningful, so perfectly crafted for her? Her gaze met his, and for a breathless moment, their eyes locked, the air between them thrumming with unspoken desires. Impulsively, she stepped forward, closing the distance between them. With a gentle touch, she cupped his cheek, her lips brushing against his skin in a tender kiss. "Thank you." She murmured, her voice husky with emotion.

She fell in love with the axe instantly, its beauty and power a reflection of her own strength. It was the perfect counterpart to her father's weapon, a symbol of her own legacy. "I don't know how to repay you for this, Vili." She admitted, her hand tracing the outline of the axe in its sheath. "I need only one thing from you." He said, his voice a low rumble as he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "That you get back in there-" he continued, his eyes sparkling with warmth, "-and have the feast of your life. It's not every day we turn 26."

A slow smile spread across Eivor's face. She understood now- Vili knew how she felt about grand celebrations. Birthdays were typically intimate affairs, shared with her closest confidants or not at all. This... this was different. Overwhelming, even. But Vili, in his own way, had found a remedy to sooth her hugr. '*So considerate'* She thought, her heart swelling with affection. She turned back to him, her eyes soft with gratitude.