This is the fourth entry for @vikingsevents Valentine's Week. The prompts were Misunderstanding and Best Friend. I'm a little bit late for it, but better late than never, right? xD Nothing worth of a warning in the fic, everything is just mentioned and not acted upon. Ragnar and his anger issues are its own warning lol. This really is just sort of a modern take of canon events with added spice. (1,4k fic under the cut)
"Jesus!" Ragnar exclaimed after entering the kitchen. He had a feeling that something wasn't right once he made it through the front door, but had been too tipsy to care. He swayed in place and then leaned against the wall near the door. When those taxing eyes took in his miserable state, Ragnar hid his face by rubbing it with both hands. Desperately willing the drunkenness away.
"Not quite," Floki responded belatedly and Ragnar could hear the slow smile forming on his friends lips. "Where have you been?" He asked and from the sounds of it, kicked the chair out from the kitchen table to invite Ragnar to sit. "I had to wait for hours."
Ragnar sucked on his teeth noisily and pushed himself off the wall, finally looking at his old friend properly. He was dressed in the same suit he wore when he got arrested. "No one asked you to," he told him and sat down opposite of him. "Why are you here?" Ragnar squinted his eyes in suspicion. He hadn't seen Floki since the trial and hadn't planned on changing that. Especially not on this particular day, but here Floki was sitting at his table, with his crossed arms leaning on the surface.
"You are my friend, Ragnar," Floki replied sincerely, his hands now folded in front of his face, hiding the lower part efficiently. "I worried." He added sincerely, causing Ragnar to slap his hand onto the table with force.
"Do not lie to me," he pointed at Floki, his voice raised. The alcohol always made it easier to tap into his anger. It was one of the reasons Aslaug had left him. The thought of her only worsened his rage. She'd gone and took the boys with her. It hadn't been her intention to prevent Ragnar from seeing them, but when a judge had to decide how to split the time, Ragnar had been drunk out of his mind. That day, Aslaug got full custody without another chance for him to explain.
Floki's high pitched giggle sounded haughty and his friend looked away from him. "Everything I did was for you," he told Ragnar. "Everything."
It had his blood boil further and without a second thought Ragnar threw the little decorative plastic flowers Ecbert had gotten off the table with an enraged shout, the ceramic pot breaking into a thousand pieces as he stood. "You came into my house, you threatened my family!" Ragnar yelled, his breathing heavy. "You did it for yourself."
"Athelstan was not your family," Floki replied, his brows furrowed in similar anger. He wasn't quite on Ragnar's level, but he would get there easy enough. "He was a whore at best, playing footsie with you at the dinner table you shared with your wife."
Ragnar scoffed in disagreement. "Since when do you care about Aslaug?" He asked. "You knew she was fine with it, you-" he broke off and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Why was Floki here on the anniversary of Athelstan's death? It didn't make sense to Ragnar. The Floki he knew had never trampled over his feelings like this. "Why are you here?" He asked again, this time Ragnar forced his voice to remain calm.
Slowly, his friend reached into the pocket of his jacket and then threw a silvery object onto the table. "It belongs to you." Floki told him and leaned back in the chair. So relaxed like he didn't kill the man Ragnar loved ten years ago. On further inspection he noticed that Floki had brought him the bracelet he'd given to Athelstan. He'd had a goldsmith make it shorter to stop it from falling off the other man's wrist. Ragnar would never be able to wear it again. Not that he wanted to.
With a slow nod Ragnar pushed the chair he'd sat on under the table. He needed to distance himself from Floki, or he would hurt him. "Thanks," he found himself saying. "Now fuck off," Ragnar added for good measure. "I don't want you here today."
Floki made no indication to move. He seemed to be oddly offended at Ragnar's dismissal. "Ten years is enough to grieve for a boy toy," he said and Ragnar knew he was deliberately cruel. His friend had been with him when he stumbled over Athelstan in their club. An anorexic little thing with daddy issues and a history of drug addiction. Ragnar later told Floki that Athelstan had been in a catholic school with many priests who had wandering hands. But he'd always lacked empathy where Athelstan was concerned and Ragnar knew that. Floki leaned forward to catch Ragnar's eyes. "I went to jail for you."
The sheer fury gleaming in Ragnar's eyes was too short a warning before he basically threw his hands onto the tabletop and towered over Floki. His breath was coming in short puffs. "I did not ask you to! You were supposed to tell the truth." Ragnar said the last bit through his teeth.
"Thirty years for you, or ten for me," Floki replied, "Easy choice." He said and Ragnar knew he was right. He'd already been on parole and if the cops had found his many, many firearms and not so small amounts of drugs at his house, he'd be locked away for most of his remaining life. So Floki admitted it was him who evaded the taxes of the club they owned and they found nothing at Floki's place– he was smart enough to stash it somewhere else entirely. Floki had gone to jail for fraud alone. His friend's eyes turned soft as he looked up at Ragnar, "I would do anything for you."
He was close to tears when he moved away from the table, only to round it and stand right in front of Floki. Ragnar hesitantly reached for his friend's face to hold it in both hands, gently stroking over his cheeks, "Then tell me why you killed Athelstan, hm?" He leaned down to press his forehead against Floki's temple and whispered, "Why?" Over and over before his hand moved up and got hold of Floki's almost hairless scalp, pulling it harshly back to force him to make eye contact. "Why?" Ragnar hollered at his friend who remained mute through it all.
"He was a junkie and overdosed," Floki told him calmly. Something that he had already heard from the police. "You knew it, I knew it– everyone! Not a single soul was shocked by it." He said, but his extensive blinking spoke against the truthfulness of his statement. Ragnar was aware of Athelstan's past, he'd even fucked with him on multiple occasions why they'd both been high.
Once more he invaded Floki's personal space, coming cheek to cheek with him. "I knew every part of his body, seen it all and I knew his mind," Ragnar said quietly, a strange threat lurking underneath. "He'd sworn off H months before his death… for me." Floki's eyes widened momentarily in realization. "He never would've overdosed."
It momentarily looked like his friend wanted to come clean, mumbling incomprehensibly until Ragnar moved away. "A misunderstanding, we fought," Floki said, the deranged giggle he let out sounded like he'd suppressed it for hours. "I hit him and he wanted to tell you."
"I don't believe you," Ragnar replied, once again urging Floki to tell the truth. "You lured him out of my house," and into a rundown place full of addicts. "I ask you one last time, why you did it." Ragnar tried again, but Floki shook his head, refusing to budge. "Was it jealousy?" He bluntly asked, causing Floki to become stock-still.
His friend exhaled a long breath before desperately inhaling. "You chose him," Floki said quietly, almost like he didn't want him to hear. "Over me," he added and met Ragnar's gaze steadily. "How could you?"
Something like sympathy creeped up inside Ragnar and he inclined his head a couple times in a slow and jerky movement. "You've been my best friend for all my life, Floki," he told him, the side of his face sticking to Floki's to speak directly into his ear. "You've known me longer than anyone else." He wished his friend had told him what he was going through, and maybe Athelstan would still be alive.
When he pressed a kiss to Floki's temple, his friend's hands pulled at the front of Ragnar's shirt and into an awkward hug. They lost ten years of their friendship, time they would never get back, but now he understood why Floki had lied for him, why he had hated Athelstan so much.
Don't ask me how I ended up writing Ivar/Heahmund for the fifth Prompt Furs of @vikingsevents winter solstice, it just happened. Full fic is available on AO3, if you're logged in.
When the morning sun filtered through the dull glass window in York, Ivar woke slowly, almost sluggish from his dream. He was rapidly losing the memory of it and frowned in irritation as he noticed the empty spot beside him in bed.
His hand glided over the space once inhabited and he saw the dust sparkle in the ray of sunlight hitting the furs with the movement. It was warm, but Ivar couldn't tell if the morning sun had warmed the surface or his lover had only just left.
Title: Eyeful of Glass
Rating: E for Violence
Pairing: implied pre-Ubbe/Hvitserk
Warning: Dead Dove; Do Not Eat
A/N: I just needed an excuse to write Ubbe a bit feral and slightly unhinged. And since we're already in the badwrong area, I thought I might throw in some Hvitty mooning over Ubbe xD
Excerpt:
"You're a fucking psychopath!" The guy spat, his brittle landing on the table and Hvitserk could see the disdain on Ivar's face upon that.
Ubbe sucked on his teeth, "Sociopath," he corrected him. "And I'm a friendly one, considering." Ubbe smiled, a different one, crooked and all wrong, but Hvitserk loved it even more than all the other ones he'd seen this evening.
"Shall I get my knife?" Ivar asked, "I feel like it's a knife day."
Ubbe stood up straight, his hand on the guy's arm to keep him in place as he pointed at Ivar, "No."
Read it here:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: Gen
Characters: Hvitserk, Ubbe
Warnings: None
A/N: I didn't plan on writing anything, but here we are. My entry for Day 3 of @vikingsevents Vernal Equinox event. It's set post Frankia, which means the two dipshits are pre-teens. Ubbe drags Hvitserk into the woods to show him how to hunt. Needless to say, no deer were harmed that day.
Word count: 854
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No matter how often Ubbe insisted on showing Hvitserk how to hunt properly, he wiggled his way out of it each time. Today Ubbe was relentless though and dragged him into the woods. His brother usually left him in the Great Hall, because Hvitserk tended to stomp through the woods and make it impossible for Ubbe to show him how to hunt– since all the game would be long gone.
Hvitserk sighed heavily and Ubbe shot him a warning look over his shoulder.
They went deeper than usual and he tried to match his older brother’s gait to be as silent as possible. Hvitserk didn’t want to be a disappointment again. He had his bow and arrows with him, just like Ubbe told him and he already knew how to shoot them straight. Although his aim was a little bit off sometimes- Hvitserk made the twitchy limbs responsible for that. Ubbe had told him that was a Hvitserk thing and had no idea what he spoke of when Hvitserk explained to his brother how sometimes Hvitserk’s leg would twitch when he tried to stay as still as possible. Ubbe didn’t have those issues. Ubbe could stay still for hours.
Hvitserk sniffed and heard his brother grunt in annoyance. He hadn’t even glanced back this time.
That was, until he spotted something that Hvitserk couldn’t immediately see. Ubbe pushed him back and behind a tree. Then he slowly pointed out what he’d noticed right away. Hvitserk still had to squint his eyes to make out what was in that direction. A deer, mostly hidden behind the bushes and many trees ahead. “Stay here and watch,” Ubbe commanded and Hvitserk tightened the grip on his bow. “Shoot only when it’s closer to you.” his brother warned him.
Hvitserk hid further behind the tree and watched his brother tiptoe around the deer that was none the wiser as it nibbled on the flowers. The problem with Ubbe leaving him alone was that Hvitserk would get bored pretty quickly and the assignment of watching was soon forgotten as he studied the plant growing right next to the tree. He could swear he’d seen their mother use it in an ailment– or was it a poison? Just as he’d reached out for it, Hvitserk retracted his hand again. Better not touch.
As he leaned against the bark he watched a butterfly dancing in the sunlight that was shining through the tree crowns. Hvitserk was about to whistle a tune, when he remembered why he was in the woods in the first place and quickly pressed his lips together. Ubbe wouldn’t be too happy if Hvitserk spooked the deer with his tune. He sniffed and then rubbed his nose, it had been runny the past few days and he couldn’t stand it. Ivar wasn’t a fan of his sniffing either as it was more than usual.
With a heavy breath he looked to the side, only to be met by the deer his brother had wanted to shoot. It was curiously sniffing in Hvitserk’s direction, who tried to stay as still as possible. Clearly not satisfied with this superficial inspection, the deer got closer and closer until its wet nose met Hvitserk’s cheek. It tickled, but Hvitserk held back the laugh that was bubbling up his chest, even when the deer started licking his cheek with its rough tongue. Only when it moved on to nibble at his hair did he lose it, his laugh echoing through the otherwise deadly silent woods– effectively spooking the deer.
“Oh no…” Hvitserk cursed at himself, sinking further into the mossy ground when Ubbe came back to him wearing a disappointed glare. “I’m sorry-” he didn’t get far in his apology.
“It was so close to you, why didn’t you kill it?” Ubbe wanted to know, crossing his arms to fully embody their mother when she wasn’t particularly happy with them. The thought caused Hvitserk to smile, which he quickly bit down on. Ubbe heaved a sigh instead of lecturing him, “Let’s see if the traps caught anything…”
They were walking through the woods the same way they’d come earlier and Ubbe went off the trail a couple times to check the traps. “It licked me,” Hvitserk said eventually, rubbing his cheek. His brother raised a brow in question. “The deer.” he specified. Ubbe didn't look impressed and Hvitserk found a stick to bat against the lower branches of the trees to distract himself, “I’m glad you didn’t kill it.”
“How so?” Ubbe asked, moving the hares he’d gotten out his snares from one shoulder to the other.
Hvitserk shrugged, “It was too big for us to carry…” he said, but avoided his brother’s eyes. He could feel his gaze on him regardless and the longer he watched Hvitserk, the worse his self consciousness about his every move grew. “And it looked cute.” Hvitserk pursed his lips and tried to walk past his brother. As he did so, Ubbe reached out and ruffled his hair with a laugh.
“You’re right,” Ubbe replied, handing him two of the hares to carry, “Here. Make yourself useful.”
My third entry for @vikingsevents Valentine's Week, with the prompt First Date. And also for the Blind Dates OC Fest 2023 hosted by @mercurygray! It's a canon divergent fic after Season 2. Freydis/OMC, no smut. (2,8k fic can be found under the cut)
With Olaf gone, the threat against her life disappeared as well. Freydis had found herself living in a hut near Kattegat. It was nothing that she had imagined for herself, but surely needed. Being a mother was exhausting, she soon realized. Her knowledge of children was not as vast as her knowledge of combat and Freydis tried to form a timid bond with the people living near her. The elders loved Harald, cooing at him and handing him toys to play with every so often. Small puppets with friendly smiles stitched onto their faces or wooden figurines smooth to the touch. Freydis imagined that her own parents would do the same; love Harald just as much and her heart grew heavy knowing they would likely never meet their grandchild.
She had yet to hear from her brother as well. The uncertainty of his whereabouts cruel to her lonely; for family yearning heart. Before her pregnancy Freydis had never felt this way, not so intensely. Her mother always said that a baby changes everything. It was only now, far away from home, that Freydis knew what she meant by that. From now on, she wasn’t the only one whose life was at stake when she was threatened, it was also her sons. A very different responsibility.
For the first time in months, Freydis went to the market without thinking of her son's father. Harald was less fussy than he’d been the days prior and Freydis was glad about it. This was like a sign from the Gods that she was finally allowed to breathe. The tentative alliance with Ælfgifu and her son Sweyn was possibly only a short lived arrangement. Nothing was set in stone after all.
The smell of properly roasted pork made her mouth water the closer she got to the booth. An open fire was bristling; the skilled cook turning the meat as the fat dripping down into the fire made a sizzling tone. Freydis looked at Harald’s little face– eyes closed and fast asleep and softly kissed his forehead as she moved towards the booth to acquire a piece of the pork that had been taxing her with its scent ever since she stepped onto the marketplace at the far side. She bumped against someone, which left her on momentarily unsteady feet. Usually people were considerate enough to give her room due to the child she was carrying.
When she looked at the person who’d thoughtlessly cut in front of her, Freydis felt heat rise up her face. Anger built up inside her while the man simply looked at her with a smile. The way it pulled at his lips reminded her of Harald and she quickly looked away; finding a new spot to purchase the food. “Where’s your husband?” the stranger asked amused after he noticed the baby fastened to her chest. “Shouldn’t he provide for his wife and child?”
Freydis decided to ignore him, even though everything inside her wanted to shove him into the fire pit in front of them. She quickly gave him a once over but couldn’t find a cross around his neck. Although that didn’t mean he wasn’t a Christian. Freydis had to admit that many people in Kattegat were praying to a false God and those who weren’t managed to pretend to be of Christian faith well enough. She knew Ælfgifu was a pagan at heart and didn’t think she would have to fear for her life while she was instructing Sweyn on how to rule.
With envy Freydis watched the man exchange a big amount of pork and stew for coin– two bowls full of food!– and for a moment she wondered if he was here to gather something for his own family. She hadn’t even thought to purchase stew as well, her wealth not vast enough for great expanses yet. When he turned around he made a point of standing right in front of her before handing the bigger bowl of pork and stew to Freydis who had trouble reacting so fast. Of all the things to imagine that might happen, this was not it. He was licking the fingers of his now free hand slowly where the pork had briefly touched him. “Enjoy,” he told her with a nod and stepped around Freydis to leave.
At a loss for words she looked down at her child, who was staring right back– awake and alert for the first time today. “What a strange man, hm?” she said to him, stroking his soft blond hair with her free hand before she found a place to sit and eat. Soon Harald would demand to feed– tiny fists balled and his face red from his effort to cry, she knew it well by now.
The only free table appeared to be the one where the stranger was seated. All alone. Freydis squinted at him momentarily, but he wasn’t even looking her way. Or so it seemed. She timidly walked towards his table and sat down as far away as possible. “You did not have to buy my meal,” Freydis let him know as she poked around her bowl. “I can take care of myself.” The stranger nodded slowly, humming in agreement. He continued to eat as if Freydis wasn’t there and soon she followed his example. No need to waste a warm meal.
Her craving for meat almost made her moan in pleasure when she tasted the well-roasted pork. The last time she’d eaten like this was at her hut with Harald. Deep in the woods and near the mountains where there was always game to hunt, but here in Kattegat where it was loud and full of people everywhere, she could not hunt the way she wanted. Not with her child strapped to her chest. “What is your name?” Freydis asked, not looking up from her bowl as she ate, appearing as disinterested as possible. Sitting on the opposite side of the table, she had a better view of this man and noticed a long but faint scar at the side of his face. It was oddly shaped like a cross, but that could be a coincidence.
Long moments went by that Freydis assumed he wouldn’t answer at all or hadn’t even heard her over the bustling people around them. “Tove,” he finally told her. With a sniff he leaned back and away from his almost empty bowl before he asserted Freydis carefully. “Tove the Wise.” he added, causing Freydis to frown. In turn Tove huffed amused. “It is true, you can ask around in the tavern.” When she didn’t respond right away, he finished off his plate, holding his cup up for a refill as soon as a servant walked by with their pitcher of ale.
“I’m Freydis,” she stated. Green eyes captured her attention, their locked gaze only broken by his deliberate wink.
Tove nodded sagely, “I know,” he replied, a smile forming on his lips. “Freydis Eriksdottir.” His knowledge of her should make her worry, but many people in Kattegat knew her or better said of her. Surely Tove didn’t plan to hurt her and Harald. Her sweet son who currently suckled on his own fist. “You’re a great warrior.”
Freydis quickly ate the rest of her meal so she could tend to Harald who was steadily growing fussy. “They should have called you Tove the Knowing,” she remarked. It was an intricate procedure to get the upper part of her dress moved to free her breast for Harald to feed while he was still fastened to her chest in the fabric wrapped around her. She carefully moved him around to lie comfortably in her arms as he immediately started suckling great gulps once he latched onto her. Freydis smiled proudly at her son and quietly addressed him, “There you go.”
When Tove stood, Freydis assumed he was leaving without another word, but he only changed his seat. With his back to the table, he sat down on the bench next to her, watching the people around them that Freydis couldn’t see. “That would be a great exaggeration,” Tove responded, sounding calm. “I don’t know everything, but my choices are wise.” he made a wide gesture with his hand as if to present something. It sounded true enough for Freydis to accept. “For one, I do not know if you are married,” Tove said after a while and then looked her straight in the eye, “But I’m wise enough to assume you might be.”
She absentmindedly caressed Harald as she thought of the events of the past year. Freydis broke their eye contact to look at her son. “He is not here.” she simply said, unwilling to give away too much. It implied that he might be at their hut, or that there even was a husband to begin with. Neither was true.
Out of the corner of her eye Freydis could see how Tove slowly nodded in understanding. He got up a second time, strategically placing his hand on her shoulder to make her look up at him. “You don’t have to be alone.” Tove said, squeezing her shoulder with care before he left her to her thoughts.
It felt like she had pushed him away too quickly and she turned around, “Wait,” Freydis called after him. “I wouldn’t mind company.” she admitted, absentmindedly caressing Harald’s cheek with her thumb. Tove appeared to be contemplating her invitation. He spared the marketplace a short look and then went back to lean against the table.
“Somewhere else, not here,” Tove said, nodding forward without telling Freydis which place he had in mind. “I need to wash. You can watch my belongings while we talk.” he said and Freydis knew this man could have ulterior motives of the worst kind. By leading her away from people, she could easily be ambushed. And yet, there was no fear inside her, no unease when she met his honest eyes. Perhaps she could trust him, if only for today.
Once Harald was satisfied with his meal, Freydis held him up to let him burp. She quickly rearranged her dress before she followed Tove. The longer they walked the less people were around. Freydis knew where he was going and was aware enough people would be at the riverbank to wash their clothes or themself. “Have you always lived in Kattegat?” Freydis asked, noticing how he casually leaned his hand over his sword as he looked around.
Tove shook his head, “Far up north,” he told her. His expression had changed miniscule and if Freydis hadn’t watched him carefully she wouldn’t have noticed. Something within her told Freydis she should let it rest for now. The silence must’ve grated on Tove just as much as on her. “Is it a son or a daughter?” he asked, indicating that he meant the small bundle attached to her.
She couldn’t help but smile, “A son,” Freydis answered, watching Tove nod in understanding. “His name is Harald,” she added without thinking and saw how her companion's eyebrow moved up in acknowledgement. She wondered if he knew that Freydis had been with Harald Sigurdsson and a small part of her wanted him to stay clueless.
“A strong name,” Tove commented as they got closer to the riverbank. “Was he named after someone in your family?” he asked, but Freydis could tell that he most likely knew the answer already. He dropped his sword, not waiting for her answer, and soon his fur and belt met the same fate. It took Freydis a moment to notice that she was basically watching him undress and averted her eyes to look at her son. There was no one else at the river though.
She licked her lips, suddenly dry after her meal. “His father,” Freydis answered and looked up without thinking. Tove’s chest and shoulders were adorned by swirls and runes on his skin. It derailed her attention from the silver cross he was wearing around his neck, but not for too long. “You’re a Christian?” Freydis asked, involuntarily taking a step back. She didn’t know when she started to react this way towards them, but she had no doubt that Olaf’s hunt for her played into the fact.
Tove let up from his breeches and reached for the cross. “Not always.” he told her, carefully taking the cross off and laying it on top of his tunic. “Not willingly.” Tove added much quieter. His eyes found hers and it was then that she knew he hadn’t gotten the scar on his face during battle. She had to look away due to the intensity with which she was met. His eyes told a story of great loss.
By the time she turned her gaze back to him, he had already shed the rest of his clothes and waded into the water. Freydis walked closer to the water and sat down on the little pebbles. “Will you go back home one day?” she asked, unwilling to believe he could be happy in Kattegat. “To your family?”
He’d been scrubbing at his face and hair with the piece of soap he’d taken with him, dunking his head into the river to rinse it out before lathering up his hands again to wash his beard. Against her better judgment, she let her thoughts drift as she watched him get out of the water eventually. Freydis came to the conclusion that she found Tove attractive, a jolt of want hitting the pit of her stomach. Something she hadn’t felt in Jomsborg, not ever after parting with Harald.
Every step he took was followed by her eyes, watching him closely as he sat down onto his fur to dry. With his knees up, he lay his arms on either of them and watched the water. “There is nowhere for me to go,” Tove told her, taking a deep breath before he looked up. “I was a pagan, viking.” he said and then reached for the cross to hold it up. “This is nothing but a piece of metal to me,” Tove explained. “It is armor against the Christians.”
Freydis furrowed her brow at the last bit, but Tove didn’t let her ask another question.
“I heard you were Jomsborg to hide?” he waited for her nod to confirm, “From what I know, the village I grew up in was much like it. Not visible for those who did not know where to look.” Tove explained and let the cross fall onto the tunic again. “One day they must have followed someone back to us.” he let his head fall forward, the water dripping from his wet strands. It was only when Tove righted himself that Freydis saw the tears. She kept silent, aware how painful it must have been for him. Not long after, he turned his attention towards her, his hand moving up to his face, softly following the scar. “A man named Gunnar cut me for I did not perish even after the third day of torture.”
Freydis perked up at the name and Tove noticed. “Was this Gunnar with Olaf?” she asked, her hands automatically balled into tight fists at the thought of him. She could feel herself start to shake and tried to stop it, but it was no use. When their gaze met, Freydis could see empathy as Tove nodded slowly. “He came to Greenland,” she said briskly, averting her eyes when she felt hot tears glaze over hers. “He-...” she didn’t want to say it while she had Harald in her arms and swallowed. “I killed him.” Freydis said instead and quickly wiped the tears away before she looked back at Tove. There was no need to tell him what Gunnar did, she knew he understood perfectly well.
“Good,” Tove replied to her last statement. He sounded delighted, something that had her warm up from the inside. Harald had never told her she’d done good, only Leif understood what she’d done and why. “I hated fighting alongside Olaf and him. I left and became part of Sweyn Forkbeard’s men.” He made a wide gesture as if to say and ended up with Olaf’s troops again. She could see how frustrating this must’ve been.
Tove was mostly dry when he started to dress again and Freydis got to her feet as well. He was closing the belt around his waist when she cleared her throat. “You are welcome to accompany me back to my home, if you like?” Freydis suggested, knowing full well that he was aware of her ulterior motive. She did not care. Harald was not likely to come back to her and she was so utterly alone in Kattegat. Freydis needed to change this.
There was a bashful smile Tove tried to hide, but he nodded in agreement. Maybe with him, she was not alone, even if it meant only for the time being.
This is my last entry for @vikingsevents winter solstice. The Prompt was Body Heat. This fic is the longest with 1,8k for this week and of course it's a fix-it fic, lol. You can find the whole story on AO3, when you're logged in!
He sniffed in disappointment when he felt the cold radiating off of Hvitserk. Disappointment in their brother Bjorn, but also himself for letting this happen. Ubbe pulled his little brother close and onto his chest who instinctively wound his arms around him. The discomfort was bearable since Ubbe knew Hvitserk wouldn't stay cold for much longer.
Many a night in winter, his little brother had found his way into Ubbe's bed ever since they had been children. Hvitserk always froze up quicker where Ubbe ran with heat.
The tickle of Hvitserk's beard let Ubbe know that his brother's mouth was moving and he looked down to meet his half-lidded gaze. He didn't make a sound, but Ubbe could guess by the shape and movement of his lips that Hvitserk said his name in question. Ubbe let his fingers sink into Hvitserk's wet and greasy hair and held him closer than before, "I'm here,” he said, “you're safe." He added and met Amma's gaze when he kissed the top of his brother's head to emphasize his words. Much quieter and only meant for Hvitserk’s ears, he whispered, "Forgive me, brother."
