Chapter Text
The first time Tarben met Eivor was soon after his arrival at Ravensthorpe. He had barely submitted his request to open a bakery that the next day the drengr was near the makeshift tent, watching him with curious and piercing eyes.
"So, you're the baker," the man said, his arms crossed in front of himself and a thin smile stretching the corners of his lips.
"I am," Tarben replied with a polite nod. "And you are Eivor."
The discreet raise of his eyebrows was the only evidence of Eivor's surprise. Tarben scratched the back of his neck with a laugh.
"I've heard of you, and of your clan. You have quite a reputation."
"I see." The piercing eyes hadn't leave Tarben all along, deciphering each and every of his movements. "And our reputation brought you here."
"Indeed. I heard you welcomed those who wished to join you, and I thought a band of hard-drinking, battle-scarred warriors could use some freshly baked bread to warm their feasting tables."
Eivor's smile widened at that, and his eyes shone with quiet laughter.
"You thought correctly. Consider your bakery done, Tarben. Welcome to the Raven Clan."
Tarben didn't see the man for days after that. He had heard Eivor was busy around Ledecestrescire, and soon rumours reached Ravensthorpe about a battle at Tamworth followed a few days after by a coronation. Tarben listened to those rumours with a distant interest, patiently waiting for Eivor to keep his promise.
Tarben didn't know when the drengr had come back. All he knew is that one day a whole bunch of hard working Norse were building his bakery and Eivor was one of them.
"Eivor," Tarben greeted him. "I hope I can repay you someday. This is..." he gestured at the walls, made of strong, fine wood. "This is too much."
"Tarben," Eivor slowly shook his head. "I want everyone here to feel comfortable. At home. You are one of us now, so you're treated as such."
Tarben nodded slowly, looking at the bakery - his bakery - in awe. A strong hand patting his back brought him back to reality, and to a smiling Eivor.
"It seems you're pleased with it," he said. "If you truly want to repay me, Tarben, then bake us your best bread."
"I will," Tarben nodded, his tone serious.
It was only later, thinking about his workspace, that he realised how warm and comforting Eivor's hand had been.