Thank you for the prompt, friend! And look! I did a modern au for this one. But we still have Canute warming his hands by the fire ;) I hope you enjoy!
A Christmas Fire
With only one week till Christmas, Emma was determined to decorate the house for her boys.
Since her husband’s passing, life had been hectic. Years past, Emma always tried to make a big deal of Christmas for Edward and Alfred. Becoming a single mother had put a damper on her usual plans. Not that much had changed from when she was married, even when her husband was alive, they seemed to argue more than anything. Her time had already been consumed by her boys for many years. Yet, she still had to stand on her own in a new way with her husband gone, which explained why she was last-minute putting up Christmas decorations.
Richard, her brother, and his wife had shown up that morning to take the boys for some “holiday cheer” they called it. Emma did not know exactly what they were doing, but she had a good idea it included hot chocolate, a light show, and a trip to see Santa at the mall. It did not matter, what did matter was she now had all day to decorate the house and surprise her sons when they returned.
First, she needed to get all the boxes full of Christmas décor down from the attic. One box at a time she slowly filled their living room with Christmas. Only taking breaks to drink her coffee, Emma soon had the house stacked with every Christmas décor item she would need. Each box labeled to their specific location in the house, she first began with the tree.
Of course, no day decorating for the holiday season was complete without classic Christmas music. Prepping her turntable, she pulled out a vinyl of Nat King Cole “The Christmas Song” and let it play.
With the house to herself, coffee, and music, Emma was ready to relax and enjoy the day. She let herself get giddy while assembling the Christmas tree. Snow fell gently outside the window as she arranged the tree in front of it. Once she had the lights lite, tinsel of green and red was wrapped around the large tree. She would wait to decorate the tree with ornaments, knowing Edward and Alfred would want to help.
Emma descended from the step-ladder she stood on to reach the top of the tree, then realized she had not lite a fire.
In the center of their living room sat a large hearth with plenty of room for stockings, garland, and all other decorations. She loved to have a fire lite while making the mantel festive.
The hearth now crackling with the warmth of a fire, she grabbed the boxes with all the décor she would need. With care she hung each of their stockings, hesitant with what to do when it came to her late husband’s stocking. The memory and pain, not only of his death, but of the mess their relationship had become, left her grieving for things she never thought she wanted. Her heart ached at the thought of the Christmases her sons heard them arguing instead of being a happy family.
Determined to change things this year, she moved on with her plans to surprise her sons. She hung her late husband’s stocking so the boys still had a way to remember their father. Emma wanted this Christmas to be so much better for everyone, including herself. Grieving had taken so much joy from them this year.
The mantel glittered with garland, lights, nutcrackers, and candles. Each stocking hung cozy in front of the fire. Emma had made good progress, and she was so happy with all she had accomplished before lunch time.
With that thought, her stomach rumbled to remind her it was lunch, and she had not eaten.
While she ate, she brought the boxes of her Christmas dishes to be unpacked and placed in her cabinets. In the kitchen, she placed her bright red tablecloth on the table, and a large candelabra in the center.
The afternoon still ahead of her, Emma now was left with the outside decorations. Hanging the wreaths would be easy, but she had never put up the lights around the house herself. Usually, her and her husband would both help each other, after days of coxing on Emma’s part, and have the lights hung in no time. Yet, this year it was only her. She could wait for her brother to return; he would most definitely help. She was determined, however, to have the house in tip-top shape by the time they returned.
Putting her puffy jacket on, snow boots, and gloves, she made her way to the garage.
Getting the wreaths out and hung would take some time, as their large house had many windows. But Emma had done this many times and felt secure enough on the ladder to reach the intended windows.
One by one she went around the house and hung the wreaths, stopping only to fluff them to perfection. Red bows decorated the bottoms, standing out against the white backdrop of their home.
Seeing the afternoon was soon coming to a close, she knew she had to get the lights up.
Each car that drove by and waved hello had Emma silently praying no one would witness her demise if her attempt to light the house went badly.
The ladder she had to use for the lights was much bigger than the one to hang the wreaths. She had to be able to reach the top of the shingles to secure the hooks for the lights. She knew she should have someone spot her from below and hold the ladder as she ascended, but there was nothing else to be done, she would have to make due.
Taking the small box of hooks with her, she slowly ascended the ladder. Once she had the desired hook in place, she would have to descend and move the ladder to the next location. After the entire front of the house had hooks for the lights, Emma was silently pleased it was going better than she thought.
Now came the even harder task—she had to string the lights. She took a coil of lights and once again made her way back up the ladder. Securing the strand in place, she still had the other portion to string up. Lights in hand, she made her way back down the ladder.
One down, many more to go.
Moving the ladder again, she began the process over. Emma was getting weary with having to move and place everything herself, along with the caked snow on her boots, her trips on the ladder became more taxing.
Toward the end of the strand, with only a little more to go, she felt her foot slip as she climbed down the ladder. Not able to get purchase with her slick boots, she fell backwards. Just as she fell, she felt strong, firm hands grab her waist, and she fell into a body instead of the cold snow.
Laying there for only a second to gain her breath, she jolted up to see who she had fallen on.
“Oh my god!”
She instantly began searching the man who had undoubtedly cushioned her fall for injury. She felt his wide, thick chest, hoping there was no cracked ribs. It was then she realized she was openly groping a man, then she stopped, her eyes flicking to his—piercing blue eyes met hers, framed in a stern face with a dark beard.
“I am so sorry. Are you alright?”
He stared for a moment, as if he was dazed. Panic seized her as she thought instantly of his head and that he may have a concussion.
“Oh god! I am calling an ambulance”
She started to make for the house, but his hand jolted out to grab her arm.
“No, I’m fine. Just give me a moment.”, he grunted.
She stopped hesitantly, not fully believing if he was ok. As he sat up, she found her eyes once again roaming over him for injury. It was then she noticed his dark hair, shaved at the sides, and the short trim at the top slicked back. And was that tattoos on his hands? She had never really interacted with a man like him. All the men she knew, including her husband and brother, had been very sleek, professional, with business suits and Ralph Lauren attire. This man who had tried to prevent her fall was entirely different.
Fully sat up, he ran his hand over his head as if clearing it. Emma was still worried he had a concussion, but instead of asking about him again, she stopped as his eyes instantly went to her with worry.
“Are you hurt? That was quite the distance to fall.”
With the snow on her jeans now melted and seeping into her skin, she shivered. His eyes did not miss a thing, he was instantly standing, and came toward her. “What where you doing up there by yourself?”
Stunned for a moment, she stammered. “I…I was trying to get my home ready for my children. Are you sure you don’t need to go to the emergency room? I mean…I literally fell on top of you.”
Something twinkled in his eyes that she could not make out, but he answered, “I promise, I am fine. I’ve had worse.”
Scanning the neighborhood for anyone out and about, every house was quiet, no one even out walking.
“Where did you come from?”
He let out a deep breathe, the air turning to smoke in the cold, winter day. “I just moved here from out of town not long ago. I was walking my trash to the dump when I noticed you hanging the decorations. On my way back was when I noticed you almost fall.”
Almost was an understatement, if not for him, she could have most definitely injured herself.
“I…Thank you. You definitely saved my evening from being ruined with my children. It would not have not been the happy time I planned if I was injured.”
He gave a bashful smile, and Emma was smiling just at the thought this giant man was the least bit shy with her. “I’m Canute, by the way.”
“Emma.”
“Well, Emma, it seems you have done a hell of a job at it, even by yourself. I could not have done better without help.”
She only gave him a nod of thanks, it was then she noticed the sun starting to slowly set, she needed to finish before her family came back home.
Noticing the change in her face, Canute offered, “Do you need some help? I could take to the ladder this time and you hand me the strands of lights.”
She knew it would take her much longer to finish the lights around the house, so she agreed. Canute gladly climbed the ladder so she could stay safely on the ground.
Soon they both were laughing as they worked together to put the lights up. Emma marveled at how easy conversation with him was, and was pleased to find he had two boys of his own, currently with their mother until next week. It was nice to talk with someone who understood being a parent by themselves. She figured that being a divorced parent came with its own hardships.
When the lights were finally all assembled, there was nothing else left to do but light it up. They found the extension cords to connect all the outlets, and Emma sighed with happiness when the house sparkled.
Her boys would be so happy when they pulled up and saw their home lite for Christmas.
Noticing how late it had gotten, Emma needed to get inside.
“Would you like to come in?”, she asked Canute.
“Oh no, I won’t take up more of your time. I know you want to see your boys.”
She was so taken back by his insinuating he took up her time. Plus, her sons would not be home for a little while.
“You take up my time? I am the one who fell on top of you, and you so kindly turned around and offered to help me. Please, at least let me make you a hot drink or something.”
“Alright, if you insist.”
Making her way to the house, Canute slowly followed behind her.
They both shivered as they entered her home, the fire in the hearth still warm. Emma went to stoke the flames and get it blazing again. Taking off her jacket, she motioned to the coat rack.
“Please make yourself at home, I am going to go change.”
Canute’s only response was a nod as she made her way to her room.
Her jeans were soaked through from falling in the snow. Changing instead into black leggings and a soft off-white sweater, she added soft socks and instantly felt warmer.
Back in the living room, Canute stood in front of the hearth, his hands seeking the warmth of the fire.
“What can I get you to drink”, she asked him.
“Coffee would be nice, if you have any. Black.”
She was instantly in the kitchen getting the coffee pot ready.
With two steaming cups of coffee in hand, she returned to the living room, passing him the black coffee.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“This is perfect. Thank you.”
Snow started falling outside again, illuminated by the sparkling lights. It was nearly dark, and she was so thrilled she had gotten everything accomplished that she wanted to.
“I honestly cannot thank you enough for your help.”
Canute smiled. “Think nothing of it. You were practically done anyways.”
Both of them casually sipping their coffee, Emma asked. “So why did you move to our little-neck-of-the -woods?”
“A Fire Station Chief position opened up downtown. After years of working the long hours on the fire squad, I figured it was time for a change.”
Emma smiled to herself, he definitely was a man use to climbing ladders and saving people.
“What I would like to know is what kind of husband leaves his wife to climb the ladder by herself to hang lights?”
She was hesitant to answer and curious at the same time—he did not ask out of thinking her incapable, he asked out of clear annoyance she was alone to do it.
“My husband passed away. I just wanted to surprise my sons when they came back.”
As Canute went to take another sip, she noticed his eyes had an understanding glint to them, as if he understood. As a single father himself, she could see the solidarity he shared with her statement. A warm feeling came over her that she was not entirely sure had to do with the crackling fire she stood in front of.
“Well”, he said as his handed her his empty mug, “I should be getting back”
Following him to the door, Emma leaned on the doorframe as he grabbed his coat and made his way back out into the still falling snow. He turned once he made it to the side walk.
“If you ever need help in the future, I am more than happy to be of assistance. Number 17 is my place.”
Emma couldn’t wipe the constant grin form her face, still giddy at the Christmas lights that now shone on the white snow, and the man who had helped her make it possible for her children.
“I will.”
As she watched Canute make his way up the drive and onto the walk back to his house, her brothers van pulled up. Soon two little boys came dashing out, wonder and awe on their faces as they saw the outside of the house.
If the massive hug her boys gave her were any indicator, she was certain she had done the right thing.
Richard was naturally curious as to how she managed the lights, but she would not worry them with her fall, she only told them she had help.
All she wanted was to enjoy this winter night with her sons, decorate the tree with them, and create memories they would remember forever. And maybe let her thoughts drift to the feel of Canute’s hands on her sides, and the way her body had warmed at his gaze.
ok but like literally my thoughts are all about leif and harald right now and this, whatever this is, wouldnt leave me ... so i was thinking about them getting together right? and obviously harald is the one who is much more open in his pursuit, but because of his naturally charming nature maybe at first leif would assume its nothing serious, he would take it for playful banter amongst brothers and for a while its fine. but then with all the time they spend travelling together and generally having each other’s backs, despite his best intentions he starts to fall for harald and his flirty one liners and gentle touches and glances that last for just a moment too long to be innocent. so then what does he do? i feel like leif would be the type to silently distance himself at first because he cant be having such feelings about his bestie/brother, right? he can’t be getting so easily flustered at every touch or every moment they spend together where its just the two of them. so slowly he draws himself back.
but ignoring harald is really hard to do when the other man just deliberately does not let him, like “i see what youre tryna do but nah”. maybe there’s even a confrontation between the two of them, but like i really cant imagine these two arguing because they just hate not being at rights with each other (although they do like to bicker, and ok yes they disagree sometimes but they usual resolve their arguments mad quick). during the confrontation leif isn’t as open as he should be, he feels there’s more for him to lose than harald and so he doesnt quite lie about his feelings but he tries to brush it off like its nothing. obviously harald can see through him though and is irritated by his greenlander trying to lie about somethings thats so important to him. and i think thats when leif considers for the first time that his feelings are not one-sided, when he sees how upset harald gets for someone who hides his emotions behind a grin and a wink.
I am updating this fic to a more mature rating. I hope you all enjoy!
Read it on AO3 here :)
Rain continued to shower Jelling to the point Canute thought it would never stop. His land was known for rain—a thing his people were accustomed to—but roads had become too muddy for most travel. Summer was nearing its end and autumn would arrive in a few short weeks. He looked forward to being there with Emma as she experienced the harvest and the great feast to the gods.
Making his way to the great hall, Canute ran, his feet making squashing sounds in the muddy road. Evening had arrived quickly, and everyone was gathered to eat. The warmth from the fire pit settled in the middle of the hall instantly warmed his soaked skin. Music played by a flutist mingled with the many voices that could be heard, the beat of a drum a steady thrum in the crowd. The hall was lite by candles and fires. Canute never felt more at home than at massive feasts. The sight of Emma seated at one of the tables only added to his contentment.
He knew it was wrong, knew he would only cause some sort of trouble. Yet he could not help himself. From the very moment she had arrived, he had been drawn to her. It wasn’t jealousy, his mind had no place for that when he was in her presence. She simply consumed him. He at least sought her out once a day, and when he was not with her, she stayed in his thoughts always. Just like the fire he now warmed his hands by, she had a flame in her that he could not walk away from.
Of course, his brother was nowhere near Emma. He scanned the room, hoping he did not see his brother drunk and with a woman on his knee. Canute knew he would lose his temper if he humiliated Emma like that. Alas, his brother was drunk, but no woman—yet.
The room was soon to be lively, especially once his brother had enough mead in him. Emma did not look uncomfortable. She conversed well with everyone at her table, even those not of her rank. A thing he was coming to truly admire about her. Still, it would do his brother good to show his future wife some attention. Forkbeard looked unconcerned about the fact his eldest son paid no mind to his betrothed. If Canute did not speak with Harald soon, he would be too inebriated for it to matter.
He made his way over, stopping only occasionally to greet a happy feaster.
Clapping Harald on the back, he bent down. “Brother, why don’t you sit by your betrothed. You know father would appreciate the image it would give the people. You are the future king and she your queen.”
A hysterical laugh boisterously erupted from Harald. Among the other murmurs and chatter, it was of no consequence, but Canute felt a tension in his tone.
Suddenly Harald stopped and turned to give him judging eyes. “Me?”, he exclaimed. “Why brother, I thought you would be sitting by her, since it is clear you have done everything except take her to your bed.”
Canute’s hands were in his shirt and dragging him out the back into the night before anyone would even notice. The rain now only a soft drizzle on the ground. Harald was too filled with mead to add any resistance.
Once outside, Canute shoved him, and Harald stumbled into a trough. “What is wrong with you?” Canute’s voice was frantic and enraged. His brother had not a care.
Harald clumsily straitened himself. “The better question is what are you doing with that skinny brat that is to be my wife?”
Canute began to seethe. “Do not speak of her that way, she is to be the future queen of Denmark! Do you have no care, at all, for what will come of any of this?”
Harald laughed again, but this time it was an exasperated giggle. “Wise words coming from the one who has not been forced to marry.” There was a pause, as if his brother considered his next words. “I never wanted it—the crown. Not like you.”
His brother’s words rattled him to the core. His drunken state clearly giving him a lose tongue. He had always seen his brother as the more robust-one and himself as more diplomatic. He thought that was just the way his brother liked it. Now he could see in his brothers face that he was escaping, attempting to find a way out of a responsibility he did not want.
“Harald, you know that cannot change.”
“I do”, he conceded, “which is why I don’t want anything to do with that Norman girl until I have to wed her.”
Canute could have gotten mad at the dismissive way he spoke of Emma again. Instead, he opted to speak some sense into him. “You could have worse. She is kind, lovely, and strong willed. If only you took the time to get to know her—”
“Like you have?” His brother met his gaze sharply and Canute wondered if the cool night air had sobered him a little. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed, little brother.”
Canute paused, taking in the silent statement made with his brother’s words. There was more than his reputation on the line—Emma was at stake as well. Anything he said would double back on her quicker than himself. On his life he would not let that happen to Emma.
“I have only been kind to her. Which is more than you can say for yourself.”
His brother came up to him, they stood face to face, a challenge in his eyes. “As you say, but if I find you with her again, I will tell father she is soiled. He will have her shipped back to Normandy, and she can become someone else’s property.”
Canute had become wet again. He watched drops trickle off his brother’s brow as he starred at him. He knew his brother to be many things, cruel was not one he had seen. If staying away from Emma meant it kept her safe, then so be it. It would eat him alive if she was sent off somewhere besides Denmark. Even though she was to become his brother’s wife, at least he would still see her, could still be in her presence.
The jolly sound of feasting could still be heard outside, but as his brother reentered the hall, Canute felt nothing but despair. He would find a way to keep a safe distance from Emma, keep away from prying eyes. If for nothing but her sake, he would do it, even if it gutted him inside.
As it would seem, Canute would not have to wait long for an answer to his dilemma. Forkbeard called him and his brother to his throne room the next morning. Tension still reverberated between the two as they entered.
Their father was surrounded by maps, scrolls, and letters. Clearly deep in preparations.
“You requested us”, Harald began.
Forkbeard stood. “My sons, as you both know, the Danegeld in England has been a significant source of Viking wealth for many years. And we have contributed greatly to their prospects by aiding any and all raids taking place.”
Indeed, the Vikings had been raiding parts of England for many years, and each time demanded payment to leave. Some had even settled there, in a part of England known as the Danelaw. Canute had been on a raid in the south of England a few years back. He had returned home with a scar on his back and tattoos decorating his shoulders—a symbol for his bravery in battle. He had started young when it came to his exposure to battle.
“The time has come for us to return and assist in the Danegeld once again.” Canute knew this was just language for being gone for months at a time. Returning home, a different man than you were before.
“We leave in a month’s time. Canute, you will join the fleet with me. Harald is to stay behind here in Jelling to help keep things at bay with the jarls.”
Canute could not believe his ears; it had not been long since he last sailed to England. Surely, he was not to return again so soon. “Father, I was present at the last raid. Perhaps Harald should go this time.”
He couldn’t leave Emma here alone. Even if he was not to spend time with her, he had to be here with her. She was still so young and did not know many people.
“My decision is final”, their father stated. “Harald needs to stay behind and learn to rule on his own. Besides, he will be the one left the throne, and it is time he takes on some responsibility.”
The conversation Canute had with his bother just the night before ringed true in his mind. His brother never wanted the responsibility like he did, and Canute was destined to only sit back and watch the plans unfold. Watch Harald rule when he so longed to have it for his own. Watch his brother marry the most brilliant girl he had met and have everything he ever wanted.
His father knew Harald was not serious when it came to his duty. Which is why Canute often took to diplomatic issues when the time arose. Forkbeard apparently was deciding to put his foot down on the matter.
Canute darted from the hall, taking no care to where he went. He walked and walked until he was in the trees, the sound of the river his guide, and the rocks lining a body of water his stopping point. His frustration having taken him to the one spot he probably should not be, because sitting with her feet tucked under her, was Emma.
Clouds still held the sky overcast, leaving the sun hidden. She had not seen him yet, and he took this moment to just watch her—basking in her delicate hands, her platted hair that reveled lovely skin, and eyes that held the fierce spirit in her. Then she looked up, and the smile she gave him could have been his undoing.
“What’s wrong?”, she asked, probably at having seen the grave look on his face.
Everything that came before seeing her threatened to go away—his brother’s idle threats, and the fact he would be gone for months. She came over to him, brow pinched in concern. He wanted to forget why he had stomped off to begin with, but he had to tell her. He would rather it come from him.
“Father has announced another voyage to England. I am to join them.”
Canute saw the realization cross her face. The sinking of her expression at knowing he was leaving, and she would be alone again. He wanted so badly to comfort her.
“I see”, she finally said. “When do you leave?”
“In a month. We won’t be back till winter.” Canute felt like he had just shot an arrow at her with the way her face fell even more.
Her departing words left him feeling hallow. “Well, I hope you have safe travels.” She moved to walk around him, but not before he caught her hand in his, stopping her where she stood.
“Emma”, he said with all the earnestness he could muster. She just stood there, her back to him. His hold on her hand the only thing keeping her from bolting. “If I could have it any other way, believe me, I would.”
“I know.” She looked at him then. All the unspoken words written in the way they looked at one another. Then she was gone.
Canute stayed back so that they were not seen returning together. Wishing the clouds would open back up just so he could feel something again.
The time for the fleet of ships to leave for England came too soon. Every day from the moment his father had announced their voyage was filled with preparation for the long journey ahead.
Clouds still hung heavy in the sky, but it did not rain. A sea of fur, axes and leather boarded the ships. Sails raised high, they readied for the next many weeks on the water. Canute’s father every bit the fierce warrior he was seen as. He wondered if that was all would be known of him—Canute, the son of fierce warrior, Sweyn Forkbeard.
As the ship broke from the dock, Canute looked to see Emma standing on the wooden gangway. A sorrowful look on her face, but she had come to see him leave.
He knew that no matter what, he would return. He would make it through the next months, get back to Jelling, if only to see her give him a lovely smile.
He would come back to her, even if he had to fight for his life to do it.
