Under The Moonlight
Part 18
Request: Yes or No
Summary: Reeling from parting ways with his brother, (Y/N) allows Harald in again.. but a party threatens everything.
CW/TW: Typical Vikings warnings, brief/mild sexual content, no hate quite like christian love, nothing else tbh
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(Y/N) tracked the ripples in the water, the distorted shimmering of scales that blended with the golden sand catching his eye every so often. His grip on the spear tightened, the sharp blade at the end barely skimming the surface until he plunged it into the water in one swift thrust forward, a streak of blood mixing with the salty waves. He reached into the water and lifted the spear, wrapping his fingers around the slippery body of the fish before the waves could tug it loose.
His mind drifted back to Leif and he felt his heart squeeze with bitter longing. It'd only been an hour since his brother departed from Constantinople to journey off to Corfu; the first journey he'd taken without him. (Y/N) knew Leif was right, deep down at least. As vexing and impulsive as Harald was, he'd promised Harald years before to help him acquire Norway, even if it pained him to do so.
Destinies... such tricky things.
Heaving a quiet sigh, (Y/N) turned and returned to the beach, the water clinging to his rolled-up pant legs weighing him down with each step he took. The sand collected on his feet, warm and inviting despite the grainy feeling. He tossed the fish into the basket along with the others and stuck the spear into the sand before heaving the basket up into his arms. The smell of fish and salt mixed, filling his nose and clinging to his clothes as he began the trek along the beach in the direction of the few other homes nearby.
He hardly needed for money, or anything really, but working kept him busy and reminded him of home. At least in Constantinople, he never worried about facing his father's wrath or the moods that changed as swiftly as the wind. His mother lingered in his mind, however. (Y/N) couldn't help it. When faced with time alone, his thoughts always drifted, fluttering about and filling his mind with thoughts of his loved ones.
"(Y/N)!" A cheery voice called from the doorway leading into the back of one of the houses, the sun-kissed young man smiling brightly at him. (Y/N) returned it with a soft chuckle and quickened his pace until he reached the doorway, specks of sand scattering across the stone floor when he entered the home and set the basket on the table.
"Isaac," He greeted gently over his shoulder before turning his attention to the older man who entered the room, offering him a smile. "Éfera ta simeriná aliévmata, Platon."
"Paratírisa," Platon murmured, thick fingers scratching at his white beard and brows wrinkled with concentration as he inspected the basket's contents. "Natasa will be pleased." He said gruffly, which was the closest (Y/N) ever got to a 'thanks' from the man before Platon took the basket into his arms and shuffled out of the room to show his wife the freshly caught fish.
"You do know there's no need for this, right?" Isaac reminded him softly, planting his palms on the table and lifting himself onto it. The wood groaned beneath his weight, and (Y/N) spared the trembling legs a wary glance. "We have little need for help... unless this is how Vikings court their lovers." His eyes crinkled with his teasing smile, and dimples appeared on his dark cheeks.
"I'm afraid you've mistaken this kindness for yourself, Isaac. The fish have always been for your parents." (Y/N) responded, half-teasing and lighthearted. Flirting was an odd thing, something (Y/N) found to be complicated at times. It was easier in Greenland where one would simply state their interest and either be dismissed or encouraged, but leaving his home had opened a door to the complexities of outsiders.
"Ah," Isaac laughed and reached out toward him, tugging him closer by his shirt and smoothing out the wrinkles forming on the wet fabric. He peered over his shoulder and watched the doorway, waiting momentarily for any sign of his parents before leaning in to press a chaste kiss to (Y/N)'s lips. "My mistake then."
"I'm sorry I did not come sooner. There was much to do after returning." (Y/N) explained with a quiet sigh, feeling Isaac's hand move to warmly hold the base of his neck. It felt nice to have someone content with what they had for him without longing for anything else—no tension in their muscles or a distant gaze in their eyes.
"And I assume Spatharokandidatos has been more keen than usual?" Isaac tilted his head knowingly, his brown curls swishing with his movements and voice dripping with amusement. "I cannot fault you, agapiménos. He does seem like an easy man to say no to. I simply wish he knew how to share."
"You cannot share what is not yours." (Y/N) raised his brows and Isaac released an unconvinced hum, his hand dropping and resting over his thigh as he leaned back slightly. "I mean it, Isaac. Harald and I have tried to make it work over these long years, you've seen it. The peace never lasts long with him. He lusts for a crown that has no desire to be placed on his head."
"And yet, he lusts for you, as well." Isaac reminded him softly. "As long as you two are near each other, it will be the same dance over and over again until one of you collapses."
"I've already collapsed."
➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸
Sand spilled across the stone floors as he used a rag to wipe away the golden specks that'd collected along his feet and calves. The scent of salt and sea clung to him, filling the air of his home and mixing with the aroma of citrus. Better than the stench of fish, he supposed as he set the rag aside and ventured further into his home. His eyes glided over the room until a shimmer caught his attention, dragging his gaze toward the window where a necklace hung from the hanging flowerpot.
He'd grown used to gifts over the years but they were often given to him in person, not left behind to be found. He walked forward and carefully tugged on it, running his fingers over the seashell design in the middle. There were few he knew who'd gift him a golden necklace but only one came to mind who'd be secretive about it.
"(Y/N)-"
His heart skipped a beat and he whirled around, his fingers tightening around the necklace as he tucked his arm behind his back. "Gods, Harald," (Y/N) hissed, swallowing a breath of air in hopes of calming his racing heart. The prince stared at him, his brows furrowed tightly together. "I.. I hear you've been rewarded for your actions. Kaysan claims he brought more gold to your home than he'd seen in his entire life. Your uncle will be thrilled to hear of it."
"Yes.." Harald drawled lowly and stepped toward him until they were nearly chest to chest, his eyes scanning (Y/N)'s features. "What are you hiding?"
"Why are you here?"
With a tick of his jaw, Harald reached behind him to wrap his fingers around (Y/N)'s wrist and pry his arm out. The gold glimmered from the sunlight pouring in, naturally drawing attention to itself and the design etched into it. Harald studied it, his jaw shifting with the grinding of his teeth before he dug his hand into his pocket to retrieve a key with the same design. (Y/N) plucked it from between his pinched fingers and tugged his wrist out of Harald's grip, holding the two objects together.
"Empress Zoe," Harald answered his unspoken question gruffly, annoyance thick in his voice and shoulders tense. "She asked me to deliver it to you.. said you would figure it out."
(Y/N)'s head cocked to the side as he rubbed his thumb over the golden key. It was a pretty thing. "So, it is like... a riddle, then?"
"No. It's a key-"
"I can see that, Harald."
"-and one that very few have because it can grant passage to a room few go in.. such as her husband.. or a lover."
"Oh." (Y/N) simply said, the curiosity in him vanishing with the swift explanation. She was courting, or at the very least flirting, with him. "When you are an empress.. I suppose you must go about it strangely."
Harald's adams apple bobbed. "You cannot be seriously considering-"
"Why does it matter to you?" (Y/N)'s fingers curled around the key, the cool metal digging into the warmth of his fingers. He felt silly asking when he knew the answer well, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough. Harald's words held little value and he'd proven it time and time again, year after year. "What I do in my spare time is none of your concern."
"It would be treason-"
"You would do it if she was pursuing you, Harald." A rush of irritation pierced his gut, the familiar heat of anger creeping up his neck. Harald's lips pressed into a line and his head turned away from him, the creases on his face smoothing out with gut-wrenching confirmation that nearly made tears prick in (Y/N)'s eyes. "You would-" His voice threatened to crack and Harald's gaze snapped back to him. "You would do anything for power."
Harald winced but (Y/N) stepped out of reach before Harald could envelop him in an embrace. He approached the wooden desk pressed up against the wall and tugged on the drawer with trembling fingers only to hesitate as he went to place the empress's gifts inside. He noticed it immediately and a pang of guilt rammed into his chest at the sight of his old necklace, set aside and forgotten over the years.
The feeling of a broad chest pressing into his back brought him out of the brief daze and he exhaled shakily. Harald reached down into the drawer and picked it up, his calloused fingers brushing over the teeth before he raised his hands to wrap the necklace around his neck and tie the ends together in a tight knot. His fingertips brushed delicately over the necklace and ghosted over the skin of (Y/N)'s neck.
"To have power is to be respected." He said softly, breath fanning his ear. "To be respected, especially as King of Norway, means doing whatever you desire."
(Y/N)'s nostrils flared with a deep inhale. "Yes, until your power is taken by another. Power is hard to gain and easy to lose, Harald." He turned to face him, eyes lingering on his lips before flickering up to those dark eyes he knew so well. "You have many riches, you have the Emperor's favor, you have an army. Yet it is not enough.. and if this, if money, is not enough for you.. I won't be either."
"You're wrong."
"No, I'm not." He dryly chuckled. "You will be advised to have children, to secure an heir, and I know you will not choose just any woman to be your queen and mother of your children. You'll find a beautiful woman, one you won't be able to resist, and I will be cast aside for her. I know you care for me... but you love the crown more."
Harald's mouth pressed into a line and he shook his head, too weakly to truly be in disagreement with him. He pressed his forehead against (Y/N)'s and the tip of his nose grazed his, his facial hair lightly tickling his cupid bow before it rubbed against his skin as Harald closed the distance. His arms, developed over the years of work as a warrior, wrapped tightly around (Y/N)'s waist, trapping him against his chest in an agonizingly familiar embrace.
"Harald," (Y/N) exhaled against his mouth, his palms pressing into Harald's shoulder blades but not quite pushing against him. "This will not solve anything, and you know it."
Harald kissed him hard again. "But it will make us feel better."
A little voice in the back of (Y/N)'s head shrieked at him to put a stop to it, to permanently end whatever complicated relationship he had with the prince once and for all. The constant tug and pull was exhausting and draining and yet, it was addicting. He knew it was for the best to firmly plant his feet on the ground and demand to be properly heard but he allowed himself to be swept up into Harald's arms and taken to his bedroom.
It was horribly addicting, the way Harald balanced tenderness with roughness; his gentle hands while peeling the clothes of their bodies, his careful fingers that squeezed and rubbed over his skin soothingly, the warmth of his mouth as he pressed sweet kisses down his abdomen and nipped the fat of his thighs. Sometimes he felt as if Harald knew his body better than himself, and perhaps it was true.
Harald always knew how to make him shiver and gasp, always knew when to push past the ring of muscle and curl his finger just right. He always hummed with delight when (Y/N) shuddered and squirmed, his free hand keeping a firm hold on his hip while the other worked on pumping one, then two, sometimes three fingers in and out of him. His eyes drank in every micro expression that passed over (Y/N)'s features, yet he gazed up at him as if he were reciting poetry and not gasping and muttering his name.
These were the times (Y/N) felt his heart flutter with affection. He couldn't help it, not when Harald would settle on the bed and tug him onto his lap, that pretty smile of his remaining on his face as he murmured praises despite his chest vibrating with low groans. Sometimes he wished they could stay in these moments forever, connected and content with each other, their brains fuzzy with affection and pleasure.
But it never mattered, even when sweat clung to their skin and Harald recited his name like a prayer until his hips spasmed and his teeth clamped down on (Y/N)'s shoulder.
It never truly mattered.
(Y/N) wanted to believe the opposite, desperately. The peppered kisses Harald left over his shoulders, soothing every bruise and mark he left with his mouth and coiling his arms around him to keep him close. (Y/N) traced the scars littered across his body, the ones from daggers and swords and axes, the ones he tended to himself.
He thought of their past and everything they'd gone through together, half-listening to the breathy mutters leaving Harald's mouth because no amount of promises could ever convince him they had a future.
"My uncle arrived earlier this evening," Harald sighed into his temple, his fingertips dragging back and forth over (Y/N)'s arm. "As always, I will send my riches back to Novgorod. I believe the time to leave Constiantople draws ever closer.. he mentioned I have enough gold to raise five armies if I wish."
"He must be proud." (Y/N) murmured.
"He is." Harald nodded and pressed a soft kiss to his earlobe. "He also brings news of Freydis."
The sound of his sister's name made him stiffen, his heart contracting before he pushed himself up onto his elbow and stared down at Harald with widened eyes. "What did he say? Has he seen her?" His eyes flickered rapidly between Harald's, brows twitching when Harald released a small chuckle.
"He told me Olaf went looking for her in Jomsborg.. and she slaughtered him and his men. She rules Jomsborg as its leader and lives there.. with her seven-year-old child. A boy, or so he's heard."
"A boy?" His voice trembled softly with his words and his mouth clamped shut, the surprising feeling of tears beginning to sting the corners of his eyes. "Freydis has a son? She- She's a mother now, oh, Gods." A laugh tumbled free from his lips, giddy and relieved yet full of longing.
The last time he'd laid eyes on his sister had been when they parted ways in the sea. She stood on the boat alongside the rest of the Jomsvikings, her wild blonde curls tumbling over her shoulders and swaying with the wind, one hand raised to wave goodbye at them and the other cradling the barely notable bump in her belly.
He'd feared what laboring would do to her body for he'd bore witness to mothers dying while having their children.. but his sister, his darling warrior of a sister, lived.
"Nothing can kill Freydis." (Y/N) laughed, slightly delirious, and slumped back onto the bed to stare up at the stone ceiling. His chest rose and fell in short breaths, a newfound urge to seek her out enveloping him. "I have a nephew... and may the Gods help whichever fool ever dares to bother that boy." He laughed again and raised his hand to his necklace, rubbing his fingers into the soft thread.
Harald's eyes crinkled with fondness and he leaned in to kiss his cheek, his thumb rubbing over his jawline delicately. "I'm certain you'll see her again one day. You will see her and Leif and Greenland again. I know it."
(Y/N) willed it to be true. There was only so much of Constantinople he could stomach any longer.
➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸ ➸
In Greenland, where the chill was neverending and trees were a rare sight, they made a living from the sea that resided at their feet. They tossed nets out for fish in shallower waters but the real challenge were the creatures that resided in the darker waters beyond the cliffs. His father insisted on him learning the way of hunting animals like seals and narwhals, how to carve into the flubber and get to the tender meat inside.
Nothing was left behind in Greenland. Everything was cooked and eaten, worn, or traded and sold. They couldn't afford to waste anything.
But in Constantinople, things were much different. It made (Y/N) uncomfortable. Most of the people who wished to be his friend knew nothing of struggling through a harsh winter or standing in the howling winds with a spear and knife hoping to catch something while the threat of your fingertips turning black like coal battled with hunger and desperation.
His friends enjoyed the luxuries though, and he enjoyed watching them laugh and smile. They drank the finest of wines, recounted tales of glory while nibbling on exotic fruits and vegetables, and toyed with clothes made from the nicest and most expensive fabrics. They could spill juice on the tunics and brush it off or turn to the nearest servant and request whatever they wanted. They deserved it. They knew of struggle.
But struggle made (Y/N). It was one with him.
He stared out at the expanse of ocean, his attention focused on the boats coming and going and thoughts occupied with worries over Leif. His brother was capable of taking care of himself, but he'd never needed to do it alone. Not when he had (Y/N) at his side, his shadow, his forever follower. It'd only been a few days since Leif's departure yet worry ate at him like a pestering seabird.
He brought the cup of wine in hand to his lips but barely tasted the tart flavor as it trickled down his throat until there was nothing left. His tongue collected the last droplets and he finally turned away from the sea to rise from his seat and set the empty cup down on the table. Harald appeared at his side, doing similarly with his empty cup.
Before he could speak, a servant approached them with a small bronze chest and set it down at the table. The servant smiled politely and bowed his head, turning swiftly on his heel and leaving their silent questions unanswered. Harald grunted softly, his lips twisted up into that bitter jealousy of his, and he reached out to open the chest.
Two gold-colored masks stared up at them from their spot within the chest, undeniably identical in size, color, and shape. They were small enough to only cover their eyes with black strings to tie them securely to their faces and rested over a long strip of paper.
(Y/N) stared down at them with furrowed brows, the gears in his head halting whilst his face twisted up into a look of perplexion. Harald picked up one of the masks and retrieved the paper but it only had an illustration of a mask on it.
"It seems Zoe wishes to see us both this time," Harald murmured and curled his hand into a fist, crumpling the paper before tossing it onto the table. He studied the mask for a moment longer. "We shouldn't keep her waiting, should we?"
(Y/N) blinked. "But-"
"Come on, (Y/N)," Harald offered him the mask and took the second one for himself, his lips curling into a wolfish grin. His hand found (Y/N)'s wrist and squeezed it gingerly. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
The sun began to set behind them by the time they stepped out of Harald's home and onto the street, shadows biting at the heels of the light while they roamed the streets in search of something similar to the symbol on the paper. The sun bid them farewell and disappeared below the horizon, leaving night to consume the torch-lit streets and illuminate the city for them.
While he expected the city residents to be in their homes, they stumbled upon a sparse masked crowd laughing and chatting, some swaying with signs of intoxication and others giddily heading in the same direction. Harald shot him a grin over his shoulder and dragged him along, following the others to an open door guarded by two soldiers in golden helmets that covered their faces.
His gut told him to return home when he recognized the soldiers as General Maniake's men but when he turned back to Harald, he'd already stepped inside and slipped his mask on. Tentatively, (Y/N) followed him inside and placed the mask over his face, slowly tying it behind his head and looking over the crowded room as festive music filled his ears.
Everyone seemed comfortable as if they knew what was going on, and he could only assume it was a less formal celebration of their victory.
People danced and spun and lifted each other into the air with howling laughter and cackles. Entertainers were scattered across the room, some privately entertaining behind sheer curtains while others juggled or did tricks that were answered with claps and cheers. The air was thick, and being around so many people made his heart pick up with unease.
"Har-"
(Y/N)'s eyes darted around in search of Harald but he only made eye contact with unfamiliar eyes and faces hidden behind masks. He dodged one woman who attempted to pull him into a dance and shook his head when a masked servant stopped by to offer him an array of drinks on a tray.
No matter where he looked or in which direction he turned, Harald was nowhere in sight. Everyone looked too similar in their masks, their faces and clothes distorting into one.
It was only when a rough hand tightly grabbed his bicep that (Y/N) was snapped out of his daze. His head spun toward the person, expecting to see Harald but the man's mask covered his whole face.
He made an attempt at pulling his arm out of his grip, words forming on the tip of his tongue to reject whatever he was going to offer, but the man's grip tightened threateningly.
"Viking," Maniake's voice filled his ear, bitter and resentful with a hint of malice. (Y/N) swallowed. "I will allow you one act of mercy. You will not wish to see how far your 'friend' will go for power. Run now, or face a similar fate, Pagan."
