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Chapter Text

After the battle with Thorkell, defeating said giant, and witnessing the men he grew up with vanish in a second, Thorfinn was more than exhausted. He broke his arm fighting his great uncle and suffered a great amount of other injuries. He went through a shitter of emotions and pain trying to save Askeladd, but only because of one reason. That bastard dies by his blade.

Askeladd wasn’t any better. After being betrayed by his crew, he was attacked and shot at all over his body. His injuries were not as brutal as Thorfinn’s, for he could still fight but not like before. Didn’t matter to him as long as that asshole could pick up a sword. He heard Bjorn was stabbed in a in a near vital area and was lucky to be alive at this point in time. But he also heard that he didn’t have long left before he could drop from the world.

The only person to escape unharmed was Prince Canute, who was now an entirely different person from the time Thorfinn got to know him. The two men had gotten unexpectingly close overtime, and nobody could’ve guessed how. Maybe it was what running from captors through enemy territory would do to someone. But the two of them knew better.

It started off small; little glances from Canute and full on glares from Thorfinn. Until the man started teasing and insulting Canute to the point where he exploded in anger. While it took everyone in the group off guard, they eventually got used to it as the two would continue to bicker and tease each other over every little thing. But Canute started to grow comftorable in speaking for himself. Thorfinn was starting to know how it feels being around someone his age. In hindsight, it was a good thing.

Thorfinn wasn’t sure when the closeness started. It was probably before Ragnar’s death, during one night at a camp in Wales when they were on the run from Thorkell. Canute offered to share his blanket with Thorfinn, much to his and Ragnar’s dismay as the boy thought he could survive the night in the piling snow.

Yet, Canute offered it to him like a sort of peace offering, an act of kindness that Thorfinn wasn’t used to. Being kind in the world he lived in was so rare and would often prove to be in vain. But Canute remained stubborn, and Thorfinn begrudgingly confided.

After that, the two continued the tradition of sharing. From blankets to wood to snacks and then food. Canute would open up about certain facts or knowledge about random topics during their cart rides, and Thorfinn would pretend to not listen with interest, entering and entertaining the conversation with teasing remarks. Usually this would start a comment war between the two, passing teases and subtle insults so fast that it might as well have been a battle. They were always interrupted by something, and it would be the news of new trails or new decisions made on a whim by Askeladd.

But they got comftorable enough to be around each other and accept their presence. Thorfinn was always at Canute’s side like a shadow, and Canute would find himself going to Thorfinn instead of Ragnar at times. They shared a couple laughs here and there (Thorfinn hadn’t done that in years) and without saying words, it felt as if the two had a connection.

Even if Canute had changed after the battle, and Thorfinn left him behind for revenge saving.

As of right now, they’re all healing from their injuries in the city of Gainsborough. Because of King Sweyn, they’ve been granted access to rest inside the castle. Thorfinn stayed in a room far nicer than any he’s ever been in, and it was a room near the Prince. Canute really didn’t want Thorfinn far away due to the suspicion of being assassinated in his sleep. After the whole debacle with Sweyn, anything to get rid of the young Prince was up in the air.

Thorfinn made his way to the dining hall, where Thorkell’s men were making a scene of eating, drinking, and laughing like wolves. The barmaids ran around like mice trying to serve their guests as quickly as possible. In the far center wall of the hall, there sat Canute and Askeladd in their chairs, far from the crowd and close enough to where only the two of them could hear what they were discussing.

Thorkell was drinking to his hearts content, as Canute promised he would pay for everyone’s mead. He was also doing what the Prince had ordered, which was gaining allies with leaders of clans through drinking. He seemed to have gotten into a drinking match with the drunk priest, who was clearly unbothered by his accomplishment of drinking his 52nd cup in a row.

Thorfinn never liked dining halls like this. Everyone was always loud and rowdy, and he could never eat his food in peace without some unfortunate drunk ass bumping him and meeting their end.

Thorkell noticed Thorfinn’s presence and waved at him ecstatically. “Thorfinn!! My favorite grand-nephew! Glad you can come join us”

“Shut it. I’m not joining anyone right now.” Thorfinn replied, earning laughter from the men around them. Why they found a statement from him funny he’d never understand.

“So cold! You keep that up and you’ll end up freezing to death you know!” Thorkell sighed, leaning his cheek into his hand. “Not even Thors was as cold as you are. I wonder who you get it from.”

“Tch” Much to Thorfinn’s annoyance, something inside was itching to know more. More about his father, his mother, and who his family was. He was too young when he left home to know what his family was or where they came from.

“Ah, look at that face! Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell you about your family history another time!” Thorkell called out, Thorfinn almost flinching at being caught with his thoughts. “Right now, your Highness wants to talk to you.”

Thorfinn blinked and turned to look at Canute, who was staring back at him with a small smile on his face. Thorfinn’s kept his face neutral, which was his default frown, as he approached the Prince.

“How is your arm now, Thorfinn? Did you get any rest?”

“More or less” Thorfinn responded. His arm was out of the makeshift sling, hanging to his side normally. It was advised that he should elevate it to have a normal healing process but Thorfinn couldn’t care less. As long as he can still fight.

“We were just given some surprising news.” Canute took a sip from his horn before continuing. “King Sweyn has invited us to the Royal ball happening the day after tomorrow.”

Thorfinn blinked. “The Royal what?”

“The ball is an event where nobles and family or friends of the royal family come together and celebrate. It is usually for an occasion or, in this instance, my successful return from the war. Usually there is a drink, a feast, and dancing” Canute explained

“Apparently, the king wishes to welcome us warmly and show his appreciation to me and Thorkell’s group after rescuing the Prince. Also to congratulate Canute on his success in allying with an enemy” Askeladd muttered.

“It is very last minute, but it will be a party of celebration. So you have to dress nice.”

“Haha! Thorfinn getting cleaned up for his first Royal event. I can’t even imagine it.” Askeladd laughed into his horn, ignoring the murderous stare that came from Thorfinn.

“Shut it baldy. I’m not attending anything like that.”

“You have to unfortunately. You are my personal bodyguard. And I cannot go unguarded at this event.” Canute answered, blue eyes resolute. Thorfinn wasn’t intimidated by anything Princess did, but the look took him off guard.

“We’re suspecting something underlying in Sweyn’s actions and it’s going to happen at the ball. So you best clean up, look nice, and shut up while protecting the Prince.” Askeladd explained. The two shared a silent conversation, and one that clearly stated the younger man was not getting out of this obligation.

Thorfinn growled and clenched his fists. All this political turmoil and for what? He didn’t give a rats ass about any of it. But for some reason Askeladd did.

“Whatever. I’m leaving.” Thorfinn muttered and walked away.

“Hey Thorfinn!” He stopped and looked at Thorkell, who had some poor servant neck in his arms. “Hope you get your dancing feet ready!”

The men laughed and Thorfinn clenched his teeth, heading for the exit. Insufferable bastards. What good was dancing for anyway?

The next morning, there was a knock at the door. It was persistent enough for Thorfinn to wake up and grab his weapon in a rush. He crept to the door and listened to see if there was any sign of battle outside.

“Thorfinn, are you up? It’s me, your grand uncle!!”

Thorfinn sighed and tiredly rubbed his eyes. No wonder why the knocking was loud. He opened the door and glared at a smiling Thorkell.

“Good morning sleeping beauty! We got some business to attend to!”

“Important business” Askeladd appeared from the corner of the door and looked at Thorfinn, donning a bored look on his face. “Get properly dressed and lets go”

Thorfinn could only grumble as he slammed the door closed. What kind of dumbassery was Askeladd planning now? As he began to dress himself, he tried thinking of what was so important that he was forced early out his slumber. Thorfinn quickly washed his face, prepared his weapons and in no time, found himself out the door.

Thorkell and Askeladd were leaning against the wall, not saying a word and studying him. Thorfinn glanced at the two, the silence unnerving. “What?”

“Hmm…blue would be a nice color.” Thorkell murmured, rubbing his chin in thought. Thorfinn raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“True. Alright kid, let’s get going.” Askeladd said and began to walk down the hall without another word, Thorkell behind him.

‘What was that about?’ Thorfinn asked himself, looking down at his outfit. It was the same clothes he’s been wearing since he was fifteen, although he did stretch and sew some parts so they could fit him better.

Was Askeladd now judging his clothes after all these years?!

“Come on Thorfinn!” Thorkell called out, breaking him out of his angry thoughts. He simply exhaled his frustration out and ran to catch up to the other men.

The three made their way into town, heading to the center. It wasn’t too far from the castle, as it was a short walk down the snowy roads and bleak gray sky. Although the conquer of England by the Danes has been nothing but destruction, it’s a miracle that the town was still and up and running. Especially with both English and Nordic people selling goods despite the outbreak.

The marketplace was bustling with life. Thorfinn looked around at the main street, amazed with the many stalls and stores with owners trading goods. Gainsborough wasn’t exactly big like York, but the buildings were large, wooden buildings in an English archetype style. Many people called out to them, asking them to look at their product. Thorfinn always found himself drawn to any market hub he went to, looking around at the many types of things from around the world. He rarely would get anything for himself, usually being surprised by Askeladd or Bjorn buying him stupid shit he didn’t ask for. Thorfinn stopped his train of thought as he looked at a weapons booth, intrigued by a leather sheath that looked a perfect fit for his fathers blade.

Suddenly, he was pulled inside a tailor shop away from the hustle of the main road. Thorkell laughed as Thorfinn glared at him, “such a warrior you are! Don’t worry, we can shop for weapons later.” Then Askeladd and Thorkell started talking to another man who looked to be the owner of the place.

The walls had shelves filled to the brim with colorful fabrics in large rolls. There were also many unfinished clothes hung around the shop, almost like they were promoting their craftsmanship. Thorfinn looked around curiously, he’s never been in a place like this before.

“Why are we here?” Thorfinn asked, feeling out of depth.

Askeladd stopped talking to look at Thorfinn, unimpressed. “Are you serious? We’re here to get you proper clothing for tomorrow. You don’t want to stand out like a sore thumb in front of all the nobles, even if you are a bloodsucking crazy warrior.”

Thorfinn glowered, his lips set in a permanent frown as he watched the older man pick up a roll of fabric, examining it and continuing his speech. “Presentation matters. And that falls onto your looks, your hair, your clothes, and even the shoes you wear.”

“Tch, I don’t give a damn about presentation. This is a waste of time.”

“You may think that, but his Highness doesn’t. He needs to maintain his image in front of his supporters and enemies. That includes the looks his vassals as well.” Askeladd explained, sifting through different designs and colors. “Which is why tomorrow you need to look your part instead of some flea ridden feline with tiny knives.”

Before Thorfinn could berate Askeladd, he got a long piece of cloth presented to him. “Here, what do you think of this color?” It was a Royal blue fabric being paired with another white and red fabric. There were also some intricate gold patterns on black borders within the blue that stretched across the felt. The cloth alone was far too fancy to anything he’s ever considered wearing before. He didn’t know how to feel about being given the choice of something so…luxurious. And tedious.

Thorfinn simply scoffed and looked away. “Pick whatever you want, I don’t care”

“Hmph, alright then. Sir, we’ll pick this one with this design. And make sure the cloak is white and blue as well.” Askeladd said, giving the tailor some currency before stepping away from the desk. “Alright brat, come on.”

“Where?”

“To the back. The tailor has to take your measurements.”

“Huh?”

“Come on Finny, it’ll be quick!” Thorkell said, tapping the smaller man on the back but ultimately pushing him forward from force. Thorfinn growled and simply walked to where the measurements took place.

It was a quick but awkward process as the tailor basically measured every single part of his limbs. Was this what wealthy people had to deal with to get new clothes? And why did they go through the effort of getting it made when they can easily go by it at the market? Askeladd and Thorkell made the tension easier by talking to the tailor, but Thorfinn still felt out of place.

The three exited the store with Thorfinn exhaling in relief. After that weird ordeal, he just wanted to go eat. As soon as he thought they would go back for breakfast, he found himself being dragged by the two to the next indoor shop. To a shop where they sold more trinkets. Then a shop with tools and various hair care that looked far more fancy than the typical bar of soap. Then a shoemaker known to tailor for the royal family.

It was all more mentally exhausting than physically treading through a mountain.

Thorfinn found himself barely keep up with how fast the older men moved, watching Thorkell chatter with Askeladd like they were two maidens gossiping together. Whenever he would falter behind to look at something or catch his breath, they ended up dragging him on his feet to the next place. The townspeople watched in amusement at the smaller man being manhandled by a happy giant.

“If you don’t pick up your feet, we’ll never get anything done. You call yourself a warrior with that attitude?” Askeladd called out, knowing he struck a nerve in the younger man.

Thorfinn jolted alive, leaping up from being dragged and pointed at the older blonde man. “Shut your godamn face, pointy hair! I didn’t agree to being your little shopping buddy for the entire morning, I got shit to do today!”

“Oh really? Let me guess, was it more training to duel against me? Don’t worry, we’ll duel soon, but the prince prefers you heal and be ready to defend him first.” Askeladd muttered, looking down at Thorfinn like he was nothing more than a hissing cat. “You want to fight me so bad, just remember that even Heracles had to go through his twelve labors to be rewarded.”

“I don’t give a shit about that! Or any of this! Don’t you dare keep running away from our agreement you-“ a loud gurgle of a stomach cut through the air. Thorfinn stopped mid sentence and flushed. He was more hungry than he thought.

Askeladd only sighed while Thorkell laughed, putting a hand on his nephews back in support. “Come on, we’ll get something to eat over there. Jeez, the amount of works slaves go through to run errands.”

“We’ll see if someone else can get the rest of the stuff we can’t find” Askeladd finalized, deciding that the best course of action was to eat and go back to the castle anyway. The three made their way to a road with street food, the smell of different aromas wafting through the air. Thorfinn found himself chowing down on a lamb chop while the other two adults laughed to themselves. The boy death glared at the two who kept giggling and staring back at him, almost mulling over a thought. It must’ve been what they were discussing this morning.

Askeladd smirked and covered his hand over his mouth, whispering in Thorkell’s ear while  pointing at Thorfinn. The giant gave a small chuckle and Thorfinn could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge in annoyance. We’re these two asswads so up their own behind that they just kept mocking him for entertainment?! Thorfinn gripped his now finished plate and stood up, ready to engage in a fight. 

But to his surprise, the two adults were suddenly behind him and grabbing his fur shawl. He yelped as he was lifted away from the table. “What the HELL?! Let me go!”

”No can do Finny! We got a lot more places to visit!” Thorkell responded and laughed merrily (evilly) with Askeladd as the two dragged the poor soul with them through town.

Thorfinn collapsed on his bed, feeling a different type of tired deep in his bones. The morning spent walking and shopping took a large toll on him. He thought about napping, but he figured that was a luxury he couldn’t indulge in. He had work to do.

It was late in the afternoon, the sun finally peaking through the bleak winter clouds to shine on the land. Sunset was to happen soon, as winters created shorter days and longer nights. Thorfinn exited his chambers and began walking through the hall. He passed by the Prince’s room and stopped for a second, wondering if he was needed for the moment. He listened closely and heard no movement or sound inside the room. He shrugged and continued on. If the Prince needed him, someone will come to get him.

Thorfinn entered the outside of the hall and made his way to the royal training grounds. He heard it was here where soldiers could practice their mock duels. As he entered the dirt field, he surveyed the area. He was the only one here, eyeing the makeshift targets and destroyed wood around him. The walls of the castle stood high, but not high enough to block the sun. Thorfinn saw a lone bucket and rope, beginning to walk towards it for his practice.

“Oh Finny! Where are you?” A voice boomed out, causing Thorfinn to flinch in annoyance. Damn, just when he thought he could get away from Thorkell.

“Oh there he is! Askeladd, he’s where you said he’d be!” Thorkell called out in a jolly manner. Thorfinn realized that he wasn’t alone: his second in command Asgeir was with the man. Askeladd appeared from the shadows with something in his hands, and to his surprise Bjorn was next to him. The man looked worse than he thought, as he was sweating from what seemed to be just walking and standing. He was holding onto a wooden stool he most likely stole from the bar, and promptly sat down when he saw everyone stopped.

Askeladd waved to him. “Hey Thorfinn! Practicing hard, I see?”

Thorfinn only glared in response, looking at the four men warily. “What do you all want?”

“Come on now, don’t be so hostile. I know you’re practicing right now, but there’s more pressing matters at hand.” Askeladd said as he walked up to Thorfinn. “You know the royal ball tomorrow involves dancing, right? We need to prepare you in case you actually have to dance.”

Thorfinn looked at Askeladd, puzzled at the words that came out. He has to to do what now?! “What the hell do you mean by dance? I’m not doing that!”

“Trust me kid, as much as I want to howl at the thought, it’s better to be safe than sorry.” Askeladd muttered. “You best learn some basic moves now instead of having to embarrass yourself in front of a crowd of noble snobs.”

“Who gives a shit about some nobles? I could care less.” Thorfinn murmured, arms crossed and lips pouting.

Askeladd only groaned in response. He assumed, in some weird ironic sense, it was his fault for failing to instill social awareness into this kid.

“Jeez. Remember how I said appearances matter? They matter on the battlefield right? To determine the character of your opponent. The same applies to everything else too, kid. These rich people will judge you based on your skills not just as a warrior, but as a person that mingles in their society.” Askeladd said, looking at Thorfinn coldly.

Thorfinn clenched his teeth; he hated to admit it but the old man was right. He spent years trying to prove himself to his fathers killer, and here he was being lecturing by him about noble society.

The man got to see what the other was holding as he got up close. It looked like…a small guitar and a long stick with horse hair.

“You see this? It’s a violin. Many nobles engage in the art of music, and violins are a common choice for practice.” Askeladd explained, holding it closer for Thorfinn to examine. It was made out of dark wood, and it shined beautifully in the sunlight. He was never really interested in music during his travels with Askeladd, the most he heard of music would be passing by a church or a band of Nordic instruments in a bar with happy Vikings. He didn’t really have an opinion on music itself, but he supposed it was just nature for anyone to listen when played.

“I can’t really play many songs, but I know enough to improvise” Askeladd said, putting the violin under his chin and preparing the bow.

Thorfinn’s mouth dropped in shock at the news. “You know how to play?”

“I had to learn when I was younger. I actually enjoyed it for a bit, but it’s been years since I touched it. I may be a bit rusty.” Askeladd laughed, plucking the strings and a few small notes filled the air. “It’s even in nice condition and tuned properly.”

Askeladd dragged the bow across the strings and a loud cacophony of notes rang out from the small instrument. Thorfinn perked up, eyes curious and amazed at the sound it produced. Askeladd continued to move the bow, making random notes as if he was warming up to play.

After the tuning up, his demeanor changed as he switched to the beginning of a beautiful slow melancholic melody. It reminded Thorfinn of the cool evening skies and lying in the lap of his mother, having his head patted until he fell asleep near a warm fire. The older man looked different in this light, with the violin in hand and eyes closed in concentration and familiarity. This tune must be important to him, a melody he once heard in his childhood. From someone he cared about.

Thorfinn continued to stared at Askeladd, a mixture of shock and interest present on his face. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He didn’t know many personal things about Askeladd as the man himself didn’t reveal much to anyone. The most Thorfinn recognized was his habits, fighting skills, and favorite foods, which happen to be strawberry tartes (the only reason he knew that is because during past raid he saw Askeladd only reach for those in a bakers home).

He looked over at Bjorn who also seemed to be watching his leader in wonder. The man also seemed to have a conflicted look in his eyes, mulling over this revelation like a new found treasure. He must’ve not known this about Askeladd as well.

“That’s a good sound Askeladd! Ready Thorfinn?” The younger man looked up to see Thorkell looking down at him with a smile on his face. Thorfinn broke out of his trance and tensed up, getting in a fighting position. This caused the others to laugh.

“We’re not going to spar this time! We’re going to dance instead”

“…What?”

“Come on now, get in position!” Thorkell exclaimed, arms wide open like he was indicating a fight. Thorfinn stood confused, unsure of what position was being talked about. A fighting position? To hug? What was it?

Askeladd stopped his playing to deadpan at Thorfinn. “He doesn’t know what you’re talking about Thorkell. The boy’s never danced before.”

“What?! Impossible, Thors and Helga didn’t teach you? Everyone in our family history knows how. When we were all growing up, they were also taught to waltz.” Thorkell exclaimed in shock, rubbing his head like he was dumbfounded by the reveal.

Thorfinn turned towards his grand uncle with an incredulous look on his face. “My father and mother know how to dance?”

“Of course they do! Thors wasn’t only well versed in fighting, but he knew how to sweep your mother off her feet during a song. Ahh, the two were such an inspiring couple at their wedding!” Thorkell said, eyes growing distant as he was remembering the Jomsviking wedding ceremony between his nephew-in-law and niece. It was a touching ceremony, and he was glad his loving niece was with a man who was more than capable of being an outstanding warrior.

Thorfinn thought over his uncle’s words, reveling in the new found information.

Now that Thorfinn thought about it, there were moments when he saw his father and mother step together in the main room of their home, arms and hands linked and a slow bounce to a melody only they seemed to hear. He would ask his sister what they were doing, but she only looked on dreamily at the scene. He would get bored of watching and go off to play.

He grimaced at his past actions, the feeling of a heavy heart gnawing deep in his chest. Thorfinn ignored the pain and looked to his great-uncle, ready for whatever it was his parents had to learn.

“Alright, I guess we start with the basics. So usually before or when the music starts, you pick out your partner and ask if they want to dance. Kind of like this!” Thorkell ran over to where Asgeir was standing, doing an overly dramatic bow and reach out his hand to the man.

“May I have this dance, oh fair one?” Thorkell asked sweetly, fluttering his lashes.

Asgeir laughed loudly at the look. “Don’t make that face captain, you look like a fool!” The two shared a laugh before the man took the hand. “I accept.” He replied in a fluttering voice and curtsied like a maiden would, earning a heckle from Thorkell as the two dramatically walked hand in hand to the middle of the field.

“Alright grand-nephew, now when you meet on the dance floor, you face each other like this!” They stood chest to chest and face to face. “Arms in position like this. For the one leading the dance, they can put their arm around the others waist.” He emphasized by putting his hand on the back waist of Asgeir, causing the man to slightly blush for a brief second.

Thorfinn caught it before it disappeared, eyebrow raised at everything happening. He and Asgeir weren’t on the best of terms (as he had decimated his captain’s eye in a fight) but even he wasn’t blind to the feelings the smaller man had for his boss. Asgeir ignored the look by putting his hand on Thorkell’s shoulder in response.

“Now, waltzes are a type of dance that travels across the room. They tend to follow in a one-two-three step, and most waltzes follow a similar pattern in routine. There are different types of dances depending on the genre of the music and the beat or sound of music. The dances tend to repeat themselves, so you should be able to memorize it easily.” Thorkell nodded to Askeladd to play, and Askeladd confided, immediately having a song in mind.

He began playing a quick happy tune, one that reminded Thorfinn of two synchronized birds flying in the sky over an open grassy field. The boy could even see the bright flowers in the green fields wave, floating gleefully with the wind.

“The first move essential any waltz is called box step! You basically step in a box formation like so.” The two began to move, Thorkell starting from left foot forwards then side stepping right, then right foot back and left in the position they started in. The two continued to move this way to the rhythm of the song.

“One, two, three, one two three, up and down, up and down!” The two picked up their pace and comftorable began to move across the floor, keeping their rhythm together. Thorkell spun the two of them around, circling and turning around Askeladd and Thorfinn who kept on watching.

“Sometimes, there are moves like this where you spin your partner around and they can spin you back!” Thorkell called out, demonstrating the move by spinning Asgeir who held his arm out then remet with Thorkell to spin him back. Despite the giants height, he spun with grace before remeeting the smaller man to box step once more.

“And then, a dip for your partner!” Thorkell exclaimed, surprising Asgeir as the man was suddenly gently dipped backwards and the taller man meeting his face in the movement. Asgeir blushed and chuckled, the two still in position.

“Are you going to give a kiss, captain? I didn’t think you were so brave.” Asgeir asked sarcastically and making Thorkell laugh loudly, bringing the man back up and resuming the waltz. Thorfinn continued to stare at the two, remaining as neutral as he could. He momentarily looked at Askeladd who was still playing, but had a playful smirk on his face. Bjorn surveyed the scene in astonishment, as it wasn’t everyday you get to see Thorkell the Tall waltzing like a noble. Or your boss of twenty years beautifully play the violin. 

Askeladd slowed down in tempo before signaling the end of a song with the draw of his bow. When he stopped, there were claps coming from Bjorn who looked on in marvel. Thorkell and Asgeir stopped and bowed to each other before splitting apart. “Just like that! Dancing is a piece of cake!”

Another set of hands was clapping, startling the rest of the men. They looked only to see Prince Canute applauding to the song and dance with a gleam in his eye. He walked towards them with amusement written on his face. “I didn’t know you could play violin so well, Askeladd. I also didn’t know Thorkell the Tall could dance.”

“The world is full of surprises, isn’t it?” Bjorn said dryly, as Thorkell grinned proudly in response. Askeladd smirked and pulled the violin away from his chin, nodding to Canute in acknowledgment. “Thank you, your highness.”

“May I ask what is going on here?” Canute looked over the field, eyes landing on Thorfinn.

“We’re trying to teach Thorfinn how to dance for the ball tomorrow, your highness” Askeladd responded.

Thorfinn only frowned as he felt all the attention suddenly on him.

Canute looked astonished, his blue eyes shining in curious excitement. Even he was aware that this was a rare moment to witness. He looked at the older men and felt a sense of pity for the much smaller guard. Who would even be able to teach him properly? Suddenly, an idea dawned upon him.

“Ah, in that case, would you like me to be your dancing partner?”

Everyone stared at the Prince, taken aback by the question. Thorfinn glared in suspicion and asked, “What are you getting on about, Princess?”

“I know how to waltz. I was taught from a young age to perform in the courts. I could help you on perfecting the routine” Canute explained as he joined the others on the field. “I’m also sure you’ll struggle dancing with a man like Thorkell.”

Thorfinn snorted as he directed a deadpan stare at his grand-uncle. It was the understatement of the century.

“Hey that’s a great idea! Go and conquer Thorfinn! Let the Prince lead you in dance!” Thorkell laughed, taking no offense to the joke as he and Asgeir walked back to create more room for the two.

Thorfinn rolled his eyes as the prince approached him. “Don’t forget the formalities!” Thorkell said, and Thorfinn was reminded of the embarrassing curtsy that happened beforehand. “So noisy” he muttered back.

The Prince put a hand over his chest and bowed formally to the he smaller man. Thorfinn stood still, stunned that the Prince actually bowed before him, who then proceeded to take his left hand in his and his other hand on his back. Thorfinn fought a blush, immediately tensing up from the contact. He’s never been held in a position like this before, let alone be this close to someone except for in battle.

Canute blinked at the way Thorfinn tensed up, almost as stiff as a wooden board. He looked bewildered at the way they were holding hands, but his eyes were so full of childish curiosity that Canute couldn’t bring himself to tease the him.

It dawned on him that Thorfinn has probably never been in close contact with someone like this. The thought shouldn’t make him as sad as he felt, reminded that Thorfinn was a child soldier in an army of grown men. Focusing on nothing but the ugly act of violence.

“Thorkell showed you the basics, right? We’ll practice it here. Does your arm still hurt?” Canute asked concerned. Thorfinn shook his head and put the makeshift casted hand awkwardly on the Prince’s shoulder.

“I’ll guide you through the box step as slowly as possible. So, I start with the left foot forward, and you put your right backwards. Then we step to the right.” The two proceeded to do the move. “Then I start with the right foot back, your left forward and step to the left.”

They repeated the move and Thorfinn kept his eyes glued to the ground. He kind of got the pattern. “Ready? Lets go faster.” Canute smiled and the two began to pick up to a normal pace, Thorfinn slowly getting comftorable with the movement.

“You got it. This is the basic routine we repeat as we move across the room. Like this.” Canute demonstrated by leading them to the far left slowly. He then brought them back to where they originally started. They continued to practice over and over as Thorfinn began to memorize the movement.

It didn’t seem to be too difficult. Thorfinn kept note of the pattern, trying to ignore the burning hand on his back and whatever emotion was ready to surge at the forefront of his brain. From the way his uncle made it look, even with the height difference, he looked graceful and fluid in every movement. He began to wonder what made them move that way. Was it passion? Or was it just smoothly moving together?

He thought to his own training. It took a long while for him to get certain moves in combat down right. He thought back to when he first learned to throw his father’s dagger to a tree. It took some arm strength, flick of the wrist, and then momentum to land it correctly. He guessed that that sense of practice was something similar to a dance. The perfection of calculating his moves was similar to the smoothness he should incorporate in each step.

Thorfinn decided to put his theory in motion. In a swift movement, he grabbed hold of the hand in his and turned their bodies around with a bit of force. Canute looked surprise, allowing the change in pace. Before Thorfinn could take lead of the dance, Canute took it back by stepping forward with more vigor, smoothly turning Thorfinn in the next step.

The taller blonde smirked at his partner’s defiance, seeing the test in his eyes. “I guess you’re ready to pick up the pace. But you don’t have to be so harsh when you want to initiate.” 

Thorfinn scoffed, choking on a gasp when he felt his body get dipped to the ground. He almost slipped from the move and instinctively reached to grab the others shoulder. Canute held his grip and lowered his voice so only Thorfinn could hear.

”Don’t be so hasty now. Those that serve under me must know impatience gets you nowhere.” Canute spoke out, but his tone came out as a tease.

Thorfinn closed his mouth from shock before glaring at the Prince. “Seems like little Princess found her voice.” 

”And my charming guard has lost his footing.” Canute brought Thorfinn back up, resuming the box step as if nothing happened. Thorfinn debated on teaching the Princess a lesson, to see if he could make him fall this time.

But Canute stopped, looking satisfied at the results. He looked to Askeladd and nodded, “I think we’re ready for music.” The older man just nodded, a knowing look in his eye as he looked at Thorfinn, causing the younger man to scowl. As the sound of the violin rang out, the two engaged into rhythm.

Chapter Text

It turns out dancing is not as easy as Thorkell and Asgeir made it out to be.

The second Thorfinn took a step, he found himself stepping on Canute’s shoes and mixing up the box step formation. He looked down at the floor, focusing on his foot pattern.

“Is the floor more interesting than your partner?! Look up with confidence!” Thorkell called out. As soon as Thorfinn looked up, he stepped on Canute’s shoes once more. He growled in frustration, inevitably staring at the floor again. Just when he thought he got the formation down, as soon as Canute began to move them across the floor, Thorfinn found himself stumbling and stepping on the Prince’s shoes once more. Whatever they were practicing without the music before was now long gone as Thorfinn couldn’t keep the pace and Canute was trying to guide him as best as he could.

This continued until the sun was beginning to set just over the castle walls.

The other men continued to watch, Thorkell trying to give pointers for the two while others stayed silent. Whether it was from holding in their laughter or a sense of pity, Thorfinn found himself becoming more frustrated from it all.

Every time Askeladd finished the song, the more unimpressed he looked at Thorfinn’s struggle. If Thorfinn had half the nerve to engage in his mindless anger like the past idiot crew members did, Askeladd’s face would have met the ground already. The older man looked like he could sense this and would smugly keep his distance, manipulating Thorfinn’s sense of honor and pride.

The two were nearing the end of their twelfth attempt, clearly becoming more tired as the tune went on. Thorkell looked thoughtful, trying to figure out what else he could say besides yelling pointers to the young kids. The giant thought back to his dance lessons. Granted, they weren’t happy memories (he and Thors got yelled at a lot and also whacked with a stick when they would mess up their posture or moves) so this kid should be grateful that he’s showing mercy on that front. But at least he learned to like dancing. It really helped in combat, providing extra agility and free’d his movements.

Suddenly, an idea struck the tall man. “Oh! How about instead of waltzing, you just freely dance? Dancing with passion from your soul!” Thorkell boasted, theatrically holding his arm out and hand on his heart, eyes glimmering. As the song stopped, the two younger men only stared at the giant in bewilderment.

“Free dancing?” Canute questioned, looking at Thorfinn in concern. How could Thorfinn know how to dance freely if he’s never danced in the first place? The prince could sense his guard’s frustration, and as much as he tried to placate it, it was hard to assure the smaller man when he kept focusing on not messing up.

Thorkell walked over to them, shaking them out of their thoughts. “Alright, listen up you two. You’re focused on the wrong things. Remember, dancing is about having fun, moving freely, being as agile as a hawk cutting wind in the sky!” Thorkell said, hands waving around in dramatic gesture. He pointed at Canute in defiance. “Especially you, your Highness! You’re the one that initiated the lead! It is your job to make sure your partner is being properly guided by you and understanding your movement.” Canute went silent and began to mull over the others words.

“And you!” Thorkell pointed at Thorfinn who only blinked in confusion. “You’re thinking too much on the moves you’re doing! You have to let yourself be guided and listen to your partner. Watch his moves, copy what he’s doing! It’s the same as a one-on-one fight.”

The younger men stood quiet, thinking over the advice they’ve been given. Thorfinn could feel irritation building up in his head, mixed emotions swirling about relentlessly. He was the son of Thors, a man who was apparently a great dancer! Why couldn’t he get a simple box step right?!

Canute was also lost in thought, realizing the position he found himself in. Thorkell was absolutely right, he was the lead in this dance so he has to lead Thorfinn with a strong hand. The man felt shivers down his spine at the small realization he was almost acting like his past self during this: unvoiceless and lacking in properly guiding others. He swore never again to fall to that mindset, for that docileness will not help in creating Paradise. Canute blinked, his eyes hardening in determination. He will lead this man to a better world, no matter what-

“He’s got a point.” Askeladd spoke up, causing everyone to look at him. He shook his hand to relieve the pressure from his fingers before going back to hold his bow, pointing it at the pair. “You’re more focused on getting the dance right than actually dancing. Why not let loose and see how it feels to dance first?”

“So, for the time being, forget the waltzing. I want you two to dance without thought and see if you can copy each other!” Thorkell exclaimed cheerfully.

Thorfinn remained quiet as Canute hummed in understanding. “It would be better for Thorfinn to understand another way. But what type of dance would match your description?” Canute asked, hand on his cheek in thought.

“Well, that’s easy. A folk song would do the trick.” Askeladd answered and the group murmured in agreement. Thorkell looked excited at the suggestion, practically vibrating with glee.

“Hey that’s a good choice, Askeladd! Folk dance is so common, even those who never danced before can learn regardless of the right moves!” Thorkell laughed. Thorfinn grimaced at the thought of another type of dancing, but he supposed that there was a point. Everyone and anyone can learn a traditional dance. He…just never got into it.

Especially around dining halls, town fairs, and especially those disgusting campfires after a raid with everyone drunk and covered in blood. How anyone can dance so merrily after taking lives will never sit right with him.

Thorfinn knew a little bit of folk dance moves though. He’s watched enough of others to get the basics of it. Even his home village in Iceland had some traditional dance events, such as the Þorrablót dance festival which was held around the winter year. He remembers that festival well because soon after the event was the celebration of his saint’s day and season. His family would gather around and they’d eat honey buttered bread with goats milk around the fire.

Thorfinn felt another pang in his heart and shook away the memories again. Whatever, this folk dance should be far easier then. But he didn’t really understand how it could be considered ‘free dancing.’ He glanced at the Prince and his eyes widened in surprise. The Prince looked…excited to say the least. In fact, you could practically see glows of light radiating from him in…what was the word? Motivation? Determination?

Canute suddenly turned and grabbed Thorfinn by his good hand, almost making the smaller man jump. Canute’s bright blue eyes were ignited, staring directly into his soul. He’s never looked like this before, in the short time he got to know him anyway. It almost made Thorfinn a bit terrified of what the man had in mind. Wait, him terrified of lil Princess? What a laugh.

“Thorfinn, may I have this dance once more? This time I’ll be sure to guide you properly.” Canute asked, grip on hand tightening not out of anger but eagerness. Thorfinn could only nod before the Prince let go of his hand and walked a distance away from him, leaving him baffled at the retreating figure.

“Bwahaha! The Prince is so avid! Guess we should join in too lest they mess up again.” Thorkell laughed and looked at Asgeir, who only smirked and joined his captain to where he stood. “Askeladd! You have a song?”

“Hmph” Askeladd smirked as he put the violin to his chin, preparing his bow. With the draw of his bow string, a large fun melodious tune rang out, sweet and gentle notes taking the space. It reminded Thorfinn of a spring festival from a distant time, where bright purple flowers painted a magical village as they prepared for a celebration. Thorfinn blinked at the sound of the melody, trying to recognize if he actually knew this song. No memory was popping up in his mind, and he began to feel his palms sweat at the prospect of once again…not knowing.

He thought back to Thorkell’s words, reluctantly remembering the advice given to him. It was just like a fight, watching the opponents moves and copying the other. Yet he was supposed to be free like a bird at the same time….whatever that meant.

His attention shifted to Canute, who’s eyes were closed in focus. He seemed to be taking Thorkell’s words seriously as well, looking as if he was amping himself up to do the dance correctly. Thorfinn prepared his stance, deciding he was ready to copy whatever the Prince had planned.

Canute stepped forward in rhythm to the violin notes, and reached his hand out to Thorfinn. The Prince opened his eyes and smiled, genuinely, at his guard in delight. The look almost made Thorfinn reel back, no one has looked at him like that in so long.

Thorfinn was too slow to reach out to Canute, so the taller man took initiative. He grabbed Thorfinn’s wrists and gently guided him to the middle of the dance floor. Thorfinn could feel his ears turning red again, his heart rate beating faster in confusion. Or nervousness. Or whatever.

“Just follow what I do and let the music take you away.” Canute said, eyes never leaving Thorfinn’s. The Prince began to sway their arms and bounce to the rhythm. Thorfinn took notice and began to awkwardly follow suit. Canute lifted both their arms over their heads, feet bouncing in synchronization as the two moved in close then split apart while lowering their arms. The move was a bit foreign to Thorfinn, but he tried to focus on what was going to happen next as the prince guided him to the opposite side and they repeated the move.

Canute then held Thorfinn close by waist, holding their hands out and began to spin them around while continuously bouncing the melody. Thorfinn sputtered at the sudden close contact, and forced his body to not fight it. He remembered Thorkell’s words and let himself be guided by Canute. The Prince then linked their arms and began to spin them around in a circle. Canute began to giggle at the movement, switching up arms and linking the other one to Thorfinn who followed immediately.

Suddenly, Askeladd’s melody changed and he dramatically began the buildup for what was the main chorus. The others barely noticed that Bjorn was clapping in rhythm to the melody, adding needed percussion to keep the beat of the dance. With a big musical drop, Askeladd let the main chorus of the folk song play, having Canute jump turn and causing Thorfinn to reactively do so in surprise. They heard Thorkell and Asgeir’s cheers, the violin ringing out a happy tune that would have anyone dancing with Bjorn’s clapping in the background.

Canute let go of Thorfinn’s wrists and stood by himself, preparing to do a type of jig. Thorfinn watched in surprise as he saw the Prince of Denmark seriously do a variation of an Irish step dance…and look amazingly great at doing it too.

As Canute spun on his foot, he pointed to Thorfinn as if to challenge him, waiting for his variation. ‘Let’s see if you can do this’ his eyes said.

Thorfinn’s eyes narrowed in response. If there was one thing he could do was replicate anothers move with ease. He gripped his hands before bouncing in the rhythm and replicating Canute’s step dance to the exact tee. Thorkell and Bjorn ohhhh’d in surprise, causing Canute to smile impressed before doing another variation of a jig. Thorfinn replied by doing the exact same moves, before he looked down and realized what he was doing. He was actually doing a type of dance…successfully. He looked back up, eyes in elation, as he saw Canute smiling in encouragement and clapping along to his jig solo.

Thorfinn felt a surge of confidence and finished the repeat with the same spin, remeeting Canute and the two interlinking arms to bounce in a circle again. His heart beat was in his ears as he and Canute finally synchronized together on beat, the feeling of dancing going faster as the two stop the circle to spin each other around.

Canute suddenly let go of Thorfinn and disappeared from his line of sight. Thorfinn was startled mid move but was met with another dancing body that was dancing at the same pace. Thorkell smiled widely at his great newphew as he grabbed his arm and shoulder, leading Thorfinn into a similar type of dance. Thorfinn looked over his own shoulder to see Canute dancing with Asgeir, both smiling as they danced a similar style.

Thorfinn took note of the differences between Canute and Thorkell’s style of dancing. Canute was gentle while trying to put his firmness into practice. He also adjusted himself Thorfinn’s energy and pacing. Thorkell, on the other hand, was definitely more rough and experienced than Canute, as expected from a seasoned dancer. The giant was borderline swinging him around, but he has enough gentleness to hold the smaller man and let him catch up in pace.

“You’re doing well, great nephew!” Thorkell complimented and Thorfinn couldn’t help but feel pride swell in his chest. He was getting the hang of it. “Now let’s spin!”

Suddenly, Thorfinn found himself held by both arms and began to be spun over and over again, his vision becoming blurry. Thorfinn began to shout “WHOA WHOA, WAIT-“ but it was too late.

Thorkell basically lifted him off the ground by his arms and began to twirl in a circle. His head was dizzying and the world was becoming a myriad of colors as Thorkell continued to spin, laughing merrily as he went.

Canute found himself laughing in surprise at the scene, Asgeir chuckling with him in exasperation. Seeing his savior get spun like a child to the point where it also looked like he was going to get tossed over the wall was hilarious. Even Bjorn laughed heartily despite his condition.

Thorkell took mercy and put a dizzy Thorfinn down, who was struggling to maintain his balance. His face looked pale as his eyes were rolled up to his forehead, trying to readjust to gravity. Thorkell only laughed boisterously and put his large hands on his shoulders. “Don’t lose your rhythm warrior! You gotta keep dancing!” And began to move them both into beat.

Thorkell separated from Thorfinn’s side and the tune of the violin changed once more, a dramatic turn that was signifying the end of the song. Thorfinn found himself spinning and bouncing to the beat, losing himself in the moment. The music, the dancing, the feeling of wind across his face and his heart beating wildly from the fleeting emotions he felt…almost free. Free from his anger. For only a moment.

As Thorfinn spun, he and Canute finally met together face to face, and joined their hands on beat. The melody stopped and the two realized that it was the end of their dance. They still held hands in position as everyone around them clapped in joy.

Thorfinn took note of Canute’s looks. The Prince looked absolutely flushed; face pale from the winter air, cheeks glowing bright red, sweat around his forehead and blue eyes wide with euphoria. Thorfinn was entranced by it all, drinking every single image in. He listened to the sound of the Prince’s heavy breathing and barely recognized he was doing the same.

“Well done, you lovebirds.” A voice broke them out of their reverie, Thorfinn immediately breaking away from the Prince to glare daggers at Askeladd. The older blonde had an all knowing grin on his face, one that made Thorfinn want to claw it off. “You really stepped up and showed Thorfinn well, your highness.”

“Ah…it was nothing…but your beautiful playing really did help, Askeladd.” Canute replied, still attempting to catch his breath. Thorfinn only sneered in response, annoyance now filling his mind up at Askeladd’s words.

“Thank you, your Highness. Now that Thorfinn understands the way of dance, maybe he can now do the waltz more efficiently?” Askeladd asked, glancing at snarling Thorfinn. The man got more frazzled up than a territorial cat, ready to hiss at the older man to shut the hell up.

But Canute interrupted, only complying with agreement. “Yes, I believe so. Well, Thorfinn. Are you ready to try the waltz again?” Thorfinn pouted as he looked at Canute, who was looking back at him expectantly. He supposed he was ready. “Sure. Whatever.”

…And despite ALL that had happened,

Thorfinn still couldn’t box step correctly.

Everyone’s excitement went down as they stared deadpanned at Thorfinn once again tripping over his feet.

Thorfinn grimaced as this repeated over and over again. He let go of the Prince, backing off in frustration. “I don’t need this. This is stupid!” He felt like a newborn doe who was trying to run before walking, embarrassing himself in front of everyone. Thorfinn turned to look at his great-uncle and the other men in anger. “What good comes from learning this anyway?! Dancing just looks like something fools would partake in!”

Askeladd sighed as he put down the violin, used to Thorfinn’s bursts of anger. Thorkell hummed and scratched his neck, Asgeir only raising an eyebrow and Bjorn just looking on in disappointment. The older men watched the boy continue to stew in anger. “I am a fighter, not some waltz pissing dancer! Dancing has nothing to do with making sure I get my revenge!”

The lot fell silent, his yelling echoing across the field as he clenched his fists in rage. Screw these guys, he didn’t ask for this! He couldn’t comprehend why dancing was so important or necessary. What would all those nobles, especially the king himself, know about it anyway?!

“…Are two blades coming together and clashing against each other not a dance of metal?” Canute asked, slowly taking a step towards Thorfinn. The small warrior broke out of his thoughts and looked at the Prince.

“For what is a fight, but a dance between two warriors? For what is a fire, but a dance between fuel and spark? There is a dance to everything we do in life.”

The men around them fell silent, thinking over Canute’s words. Thorfinn could only stare at the Prince with wide eyes in thought. He never thought of it…like that before. It was a bit stupid to compare the bloody gruesome violence to a dance. But it was a different perspective on it, one that Thorfinn could understand.

“If you can know how to fight against a giant like Thorkell, then you can understand something as simple as a dance.” Canute grabbed Thorfinn’s hand, raising it to his level and gently placed his hand on Thorfinn’s back. His eyes were different this time, as if he was challenging him to prove himself. “Someone as spectacular as you can do anything you put your mind to.”

Thorfinn wasn’t sure how to take the compliment, unused to the praise. Before his mind could carry on in the confusion of his emotions, he decided to swallow his hesitation down. He met the Prince’s eyes with the same look for an answer. He wouldn’t back down.

Canute’s blue eyes were fiery with challenge. “Well then, let’s continue shall we?”

Thorfinn smirked back. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

Thorfinn found himself in his room, collapsing onto the bed after everything that happened. It felt like a whole week had passed by with the events that happened today. The two had continued to practice waltzing throughout the cold night, nailing down every move in the book until they ran out of breath. Eventually Askeladd’s fingers began to wane from all the playing, and the other men decided to call it a night.

He wasn’t confident enough to say he knew how to waltz still. Or dance either.

Thorfinn flipped over on his back, staring up at the wooden ceilings in a daze. There was a moment today, a moment where he forgot how it felt to be angry. For just one second, he let himself get lost into something else, with someone else, and…enjoyed it.

Did he really enjoy it? He couldn’t pinpoint if dancing made him happy, neutral, or pissed off. He wasn’t laughing with the others, he wasn’t smiling genuinely as if he was the most desired thing in the world like Canute, but he was-

Wait, what? Desired thing? Smiling genuinely? Canute??

Thorfinn could feel himself internally groan as he rubbed his eyes with his hand. He held a closed fist over his forehead, attempting to clear his mind.

Canute was definitely, for a lack of a better fucking word, weird today. He acted as though he was happy to see him learn to dance, even though it got extremely frustrating at times. He looked at him with encouragement and excitement, as if he wanted to see him succeed with no ulterior motive sensed behind it. His blue ocean eyes kept staring at him when he thought he wasn’t looking. Just like back then in the wagon.

In fact, everyone was weird today. Since when do Askeladd and Thorkell team up like their best friends? Since when does Askeladd offer to even help Thorfinn? With clothes, with food, with dancing of all fucking things. Did he get hit with so many arrows that he suddenly had a nice bone and had to be a kiss ass? Or was he fearing his time was near like Bjorn and wanted to do something for once to him?

“Fucking murdering piece of trash” Thorfinn muttered, gripping the sheets of his bed in anger. “Fucking asshole! I didn’t ask for your charity!” He shouted at the ceilings. His voice reverberated against the stone floors and he breathed in slow breaths. A flash of the Prince’s hands gently gripping his from their dance calmed him down.

Wait, he was thinking about Canute again. He groaned loudly, turning on his side in grievance.

Thorfinn didn’t know what to call the emotions he felt whenever he looked at Canute. It used to be whenever Canute would look at him, he would blush and smile like a maiden around her crush. Whatever happened that day he deserted him changed Princess big time. Dare he even say, it looked like Canute would adapt the mindset Askeladd is obviously shaping him into: a murdering leader with an iron fist.

Thorfinn felt a twang in his chest at the thought. Canute…yeah, he was a wimp, a pretty big wimp, one look at him and everyone knew he couldn’t hurt a fly. But the way things are going, he‘s going to be forced to kill someone soon. Was it…ultimately his fault that he made Canute choose this path? And adapt that attitude? The sacred times they would laugh together, tease and jest without consequence, and when Canute would vulnerably show his true emotions to only him. The nights he’d cry because he was hurt by what Thorfinn said or the situation he was in. Only Thorfinn was allowed to see it.

He guessed, in the end, it couldn’t be helped. Maybe Canute was meant to go down this path after all. But why did it have to be this way? He felt as though he missed a chance to say something before it was too late. However, that didn’t really explain Canute’s actions towards him the whole time, especially today.

Canute would do actions that put Thorfinn at a loss of words. Whether it was sharing his food, listening to the little words Thorfinn said and replying with genuine interest, blushing at close contact at the brush of their hands. Even now, the prince would go out of his way to accommodate him, under the guise that he was the personal guard but it also seemed to be because Canute wanted him to have decent nice things for once. After seeing the lifestyle and choices Thorfinn had to endure for his childhood, Canute wanted to show that care and kindness does exist for him.

…it’s unexplainable but he knows Canute feels it. They have this type of connection. Like Canute sees Thorfinn than more for what he presents. When they’re not bickering or getting on each other’s nerves, Canute looks at him like he hung the moon itself. An admiration that goes beyond words.

Did…the Prince have a crush on him?

No freaking way. That would be crazy. Insane. Pro..preposterous. That’s the word.

The thought was so unbelievable that Thorfinn literally jumped out of bed, his exhaustion wiped gone, and began to pace the floor back and forth.

Canute? That wimpy Princess that couldn’t even piss with others during natures calling because he was shy?? The Princess who couldn’t look others in the eye because he was scared? The one whose pretty looks are compared to the goddess Freya? The one who just swept him off his feet?-

Oh hell no. Ragnarok must be coming early or Helheim must be freezing over because this is a load of bullshit.

Thorfinn grabbed at his shirt, willing his heart to just calm down. Think rationally. He’s- well, he’s never been in a relationship before, let alone be the object of someone’s affection. He doesn’t even do relationships. His thoughts have only been filled with one thought only: revenge. And it didn’t matter who or what stood in his way, he’s going to get his revenge no matter what and prove to baldy owl hooter head that he can beat him in a duel. For his fathers honor.

That being said, a relationship is not in his books. Or having crushes like other people his age. Or falling in love. Who would ever want to fall in love with someone like him anyway? The fact that some crew members in Askeladd’s gang actually had wives to go back to boggled his mind. Some people fall in love with unhonorable people like them.

Now that he thought about it, Askeladd never got into a relationship. He had a crowd of fans, girls and guys, back at Gorm’s village, all clearly hoping to become Askeladd’s lover some day. He would lavishly gift them treasures from his raids, tell them they look pretty, and laugh at whatever they said. But Thorfinn never saw him take any of those people back to his cabin or seriously pursue any type of companionship with them. He would be around Bjorn at the end of the day.

To his dismay, he thought about Askeladd and Bjorn. Nobody in the crew for the past ten years was blind to their relationship. Especially Thorfinn. There was this bet that was ongoing for the longest time on whether or not Bjorn would confess his feelings to their leader (feelings that were never confirmed by Bjorn but not dissuaded either) or Askeladd would confess first. Too bad they were so far up their own assholes they wouldn’t get to see the bet happen.

Thorfinn wasn’t blind. Those two had a special type of relationship. One that exceeded past commander and first mate, and definitely succeeded past just friends. Bjorn cared a lot about people and their feelings, and the only person he would go above and beyond in caring for was Askeladd. For the older man, he would confide to only Bjorn for everything. And Thorfinn knew everything was on the table, except for Askeladd himself.

He recalled a time where Bjorn was caring for his wounds (much to Thorfinn’s irritation), mother henning over him as fucking usual. Bjorn was saying he didn’t know a thing about Askeladd’s past. He didn’t know what his overal goal was. He didn’t know much about how Askeladd was truly feeling. But he would follow that man to the depths of hell and back. Thorfinn growled and told the man he was a fucking idiot for following someone who would clearly throw him away like nothing. But Bjorn only smirked and continued to care for him.

He didn’t know how to feel about the two people who were responsible for his fathers death being the example of relationships. On top of that, he was comparing his and Canute relationship to theirs-

He inwardly cringed and violently shook his head, tossing the thoughts off overboard. He wanted to smash his head into the wood walls and claw at the curtains in agony. There is no way he’s thinking about this right now.

Why would the Prince of Denmark like him??

Did he even like him back????

…the Prince was pretty. And fun to tease. And to talk to. And be around sometimes. But liking him romantically? Thorfinn’s never liked anyone before. He isn’t sure how that’s supposed to be.

What would his father think about this? What about his mother or Ylva? They would probably be happy that he’d show affection for someone, and gladly accept Canute as their own. Thorfinn could feel his heart palpitate faster as he imagined bringing Canute to his childhood home and introducing him to his family. He could physically feel his face burning red and he slapped himself in an attempt to stop. Thors would laugh and say Thorfinn found a pretty wife, his mother and Canute would get along splendidly along with Ylva who would tease the two of them relentlessly.

Thorfinn shoved his face into the curtain fabric and muffled his screech. What was his mind even thinking?! All these assumptions and for what?!

Thorfinn paused, felt himself relax ever so slightly, realizing that he was all he was doing was just jumping to assumptions. He didn’t know if the Prince liked him. Would he even be able to confront the Prince on whether or not he had feelings for him? They’d probably never get the chance anyway. He sighed in relief at the feeling of his heart rate slowing normally, but his cheeks still felt like they were burning.

Thorfinn decided that was enough fucking thinking for the night. He had an entire ball to attend against his will and hopefully not fuck up dancing in front of anyone. These feelings stuff weren’t worth thinking about if he didn’t get rest for the big event. Thorfinn yawned loudly as he walked back to his bed, flopping onto the sheets and pulling the blanket over his head.

Hopefully when he wakes up, he’ll forget about everything he’s thought about in the morning.

Unbeknownst to Thorfinn, a figure stood outside his door, fist hovering over the dark wood. The figured only sighed and put his hand down in defeat, sensing that the guard had fallen asleep for the night.

Canute simply looked at the door, longing in his eyes and words at the tip of his tongue. He swore he wouldn’t hold back his voice anymore but he found himself at a loss of words, unable to say anything.

He turned around and walked away back to his chambers. Maybe tomorrow he’ll figure out what to say.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Thorfinn was awoken to the sound of persistent knocking once again.

After yesterday, Thorfinn has never been more exhausted, faintly wishing he had the luxury to sleep in for once. Just as he was about to get out of bed, the door suddenly burst opened. A bunch of servants and maids came rushing into his room, causing Thorfinn to panic and reach for his knife.

“Calm down, boy! They’re with me.” Askeladd’s voice called out, entering the room with a haughty look on his face.

He could feel his blood boil immensely at the sight. What a way to be greeted in the morning, no one does it better than Askeladd.

“What the hell is this, old man?!” Thorfinn shouted.

“And good morning to you too. Don’t worry, I let them in. They have a lot of work ahead of them today so I figured why not start early.”

Thorfinn blinked, his tired mind blanking on the reference. “Start early for what?”

“Getting you ready for the ball tonight, idiot.”

Thorfinn looked at all the servants and maids, the crowd large enough to make up a small army. His mind grew more irritate at his disturbance for sleep and just Askeladd in general.

“All these people need to help me get ready?!” He yelled, waving his arm to the mass that has suddenly crowded around his bed. Askeladd walked forward towards the edge, centering himself in front of everyone like the commander he is. The way he looked down at Thorfinn was making the younger man’s skin crawl, itching to just throw a punch.

“Are you kidding? Look at you! You probably didn’t even bathe last Saturday; knowing you, you’d avoid it with your arm still healing. They’re here to help you look your best tonight.” Askeladd stated, his nose wrinkling at the sight. Even his old crew kept better hygiene than this kid did at the moment.

“And what about you baldy?! You need to get ready too!”

“Oh I will! I just need to make sure this goes accordingly or else someone here will lose an arm.”

“This is bullshit, let me get ready myself!”

“No can do. Alright men, take him away.” Askeladd called to the door.

Thorkell and two other men, one of them being Asgeir came in. Thorkell had a wide grin on his face, humming as he came toward Thorfinn. He stopped when said boy drew his dagger.

“Now now, don’t be like that Thorfinn. We’re just here to help you!” Thorkell chuckled, walking closer.

“Bullshit!” the smaller man yelled, in a fighting stance with his dagger in hand. Thorkell only smiled and lunged forward, easily dodging the swiping attack of the knife before knocking it out of Thorfinn’s hand. In a swift motion, he managed to pick Thorfinn up and over his shoulder, letting him hang like he was nothing more than a traveling bag.

The reaction was instantaneous.

“LET ME GO” Thorfinn screeched. He began punching at Thorkell’s back hard but to no avail.

“Sorry great-nephew, but we have a lot of work to do. Asgeir, make sure his knife gets put back” Thorkell said and began to walk out the room.

The entire wing of the castle slowly started being woken up from all of Thorfinn’s screaming. Canute peeked his head out of his chambers with Wilibald and Gunnar in tow, wondering what all the commotion was in the high morning. They could only watch as Thorfinn was yelling and squirming over Thorkell’s shoulder, who simply took the punches with a smile and kept walking forward with the crowd of servants.

“Whoa, what’s with that small rabid animal? Isn’t he your personal guard, your Highness?” Gunnar asked, watching in astonishment as said small animal tried to round house kick Thorkell in the face but kept missing as the giant held his leg in place. This caused more screeching to ensue.

“Thank goodness I’m not dealing with that.” The conehead man let out a relieved chuckle while Wilibald only stared on at the scene in a drunk gaze, taking another swig from his barrel. 

Canute only smiled, watching with concerned amusement as Thorfinn was hauled off down to another corridor. He only hoped that his guard wouldn’t give everyone a hard time.

“Anyways, let’s get you ready, your Highness! Your outfit is already prepared.”

”Of course, Gunnar.” Canute replied, retreating back to his room in quiet excitement.

Tonight was going to be different for sure.

“Can you not sound like we’re dragging you off to slavery for five seconds? We’re just going to help you get ready” Askeladd yelled over the commotion. “Are you a toddler now, because you sure scream like one.”

“Shut your fucking mouth! Put me down NOW, you troll faced OAF!”

“Hahaha! Don’t be mad, Finny; we’re almost there!” Thorkell laughed, still undeterred by the constant punches at his backside.

They all entered another room and as soon as he was let down, he was immediately stripped of his clothing except for his undergarments. Before he could even attack for the lack of care on his clothes and no privacy, Thorfinn was thrown into a large wooden tub filled with warm water. The water was actually bubbly with soap and other types of…herbs? He recognized one of them as thyme. The air smelled sickly sweet, like lavender and honey.

Suddenly, he got warm water dumped on his head, earning a gasp from his mouth. Two other soldiers from Thorkell’s crew and servants came and began scrubbing at his hair and body ferociously.

“Jeez, you really need a bath kid. Lucky for you, we’re here to help!” One of Thorkell’s men exclaimed.

“He’s got grime all over his arms and finger nails!” A servant said, continuously scrubbing at the arms.

“Careful with his right arm, it’s still healing!” Askeladd called out, standing at the door to avoid getting splashed. Thorkell and Asgeir joined his side to avoid damage and give their men moral support.

”Make sure he’s squeaky clean, men! Bring more warm water and toss his clothes out for now.” Asgeir commanded, the others shouting their affirmatives and continuing with their task. A maid scooped up Thorfinn’s old clothes and ran out the room, Thorfinn watching it all and anger building in him.

“You assholes! Let me go right now!” Thorfinn screeched and begin to move everywhere, causing water to spill out the tub. He quickly stopped when he felt his right arm pinch in pain, hissing at the movement.

“Calm down, you’re worse than a feral cat. Just let us finish this!” One of the men yelled.

“Fuck off!” Thorfinn growled. More soap and water got poured on him as a result, causing him to cough and wheeze. “You fucking- hack damn you!“

”This is why you bathe every Saturday. So you don’t have to go through this.” Askeladd criticized with a sarcastic tone, watching with mild amusement as he saw Thorfinn struggle to look around with his mop of a hair blinding him. 

Thorkell did nothing but laugh at the scene in front of him, each passing moment becoming more hilarious as Thorfinn continued to yelp and claw at everyone around him. “Don’t be so troublesome, grand-nephew! You have to be clean in order to dance with the pretty Prince tonight!” he teased out. Everyone caught sign of the young warrior’s ears turning pink.

“I’ll fucking end all you!” Thorfinn howled, attempting to wade in the tub again before another bucket splashed on him. His threats fell on death ears as he continued to drown from the pouring water.

“Oh gods, this is gonna be a long day isn’t it.” Asgeir deadpans, looking over the scene with a tired look in his eyes.

“And the party hasn’t even started yet.” Askeladd muttered back. They watched as servants and crew members ran around the room like chickens with their heads cut off, bringing buckets of warm water and whatever tools needed for their battle.

“He needs more of that floral soap! Quickly, get the brush out while the oil is in his hair!”

“AH! He bit me, he fucking bit me!” A servant cried out in pain, before getting splashed in the face with the now dark bath water.

“Gods, has your hair not been brushed in months?? Its like a birds nest!!” Another man yelled as he struggled to get the comb out of the hair.

“Stop moving, please!”

Askeladd’s wore a longsuffering expression on his face as he turned away from the kid, who was currently acting worse than a wild animal. He’s made many gambles in his life, and getting chased by Thorkell couldn’t compare to what was happening tonight. All he wanted was for this god awful child to cooperate.

He wasn’t religious at all, but it was times like these where he prayed his ancestor Artorious would shine down on him from Avalon for some sort of comfort.

Give him some kind of hope that the rest of this afternoon goes smoothly.

After the mess now known as the bath incident, servants and guards quickly brought a dripping wet Thorfinn who was covered in multiple layers of the softest towels he’s ever been in. They wouldn’t allow him to shake himself off like a dog at risk of getting soap and water everywhere once again. Thorfinn’s eyes were covered by his wet hair and towel on his head, but if anyone looked close enough, they’d see the cold cliffs of Helheim in his eyes.

For the sake of staying alive, everyone proceeded to do their job without a word.

He was sat back inside his chambers on a plush chair. Servants removed the cloth from his head and began to gently dry his hair with the towel. After some brief patting, someone began to brush his hair once more.

“Well..he smells better than he has in the past eleven years I’ve been around him” Askeladd muttered, watching the servants and maids fuss over Thorfinn’s hair and skin.

“He’s lost that warrior smell. Now he smells like one of those rich nobles” Thorkell grumbled. A servant came to his side, holding folded clothes with gold accessories on top. He brightened up and took the clothes, walking towards Thorfinn.

“Hey Thorfinn! I got your fancy clothes! You even got some new undergarments.”

“Undergarments? I don’t understand why I can’t wear my old clothes” Thorfinn grumbled, his pout diminishing every time the maid brushed his hair.

“Why wouldn’t you want new clothes? Going to ball in your ripped up battle outfit will not only kill the mood at the ball, but also ruin your looks.” Thorkell stated, putting the clothes down on the table in front of Thorfinn. Another servant was rebandaging his right arm, making the bandage lighter in layers for the outfit.

“Trust me, the last thing you would want to do is make nobles uneasy, they’ll start talking too much. And good grief, those old rags will be washed and properly mended to. Wearing holes and tears in your clothes makes you no different than a lowly peasant on the street.” Askeladd said.

“You would know, wouldn’t you old man.” Thorfinn muttered lowly. Askeladd’s eye only twitched in response.

“Change into these as soon as they’re done prepping you up! In the meantime, we have to get ready as well.” Askeladd ordered, jaw clenched as he turned hot on his heel to leave the room.

“Hold on a second.” The men stopped and looked at the boy currently holding the most sour look on his face. This brat was being pampered for the first time in years and only he can manage to look like someone shat in his bed while having his hair done. Askeladd held back the need to roll his eyes.

“I don’t want to go through this without some sort of payment.” Thorfinn stated, eyes boring into Askeladd’s skull.

Of course he knew what he wanted. Askeladd dramatically sighed his frustrations out, rubbing a hand over his face. Kids are such a damn hassle.

“Yeah yeah, we’ll have a duel. But only until after the ball is done and Canute is safe.” Askeladd replied, staring at him with disinterest. The smaller man seemed to perk up at the deal, mouth ready to go on some filthy tangent about ‘I will beat you’ and ‘honor.’ Wasn’t going to sound convincing when the kid was covered in sheep fluff.

“Anyway, get ready! The ball starts soon and his Highness needs his guard by his side!” Askeladd interrupted before Thorfinn could speak. Thorfinn only glared and rolled his eyes, looking away from the man in annoyance.

“And do me a favor; watch the way you act while being around the Prince tonight. Keep blushing like that and people might get ideas about you two.” Askeladd said, eyebrow raised in interest at the reaction Thorfinn gave him.

The smaller man whipped his head towards him, eyes wide like a fish that’s been caught and mouth in a tight line. His cheeks were tinted pink, before his iconic death glare came back.

“…what the fuck are you talking about? You should get your eyes checked out because clearly there’s nothing there.” Thorfinn states, his tone neutral. His face unfortunately said otherwise.

“Yeah yeah sure, whatever you say. Well, you’re going to be dancing with him anyway so it’s too late for the assumptions.” Askeladd goaded, rubbing his chin in false thought. Thorfinn only sputtered, his facade breaking.

Thorkell and Asgeir were giggling in the background, causing Thorfinn’s head to whip over and glare at them too.

”What assumptions?!”

”Oh, he’s playing dumb now?” Asgeir asked, looking at his commander with scandalous proposition. Thorkell only answered with the same look. 

“Don’t spoil the fun, Asgeir! It’s up for them to find out.” Thorkell giggled, ignoring the venomous glower that was coming from his grand-nephew.

“Well, if you two happen to sneak off from the ball tonight, just make sure to use protection.” Askeladd chuckled and smoothly dodged the towel that Thorfinn threw at him.

“Get. OUT. ALREADY!” Thorfinn screeched, throwing another towel at the man’s head, which was dodged once more.

Askeladd simply scoffed and turned away, murmuring something about ‘annoying brat’ on his way out.

With that, Askeladd and the others left the room, a multitude of servants and maids following after them. As they were leaving, Thorkell made kissy faces at Thorfinn, who only responded by chucking another towel at the giant, hitting him hard in the face. Thorkell only giggled loudly and closed the door behind him.

Thorfinn was left alone in the room for the first time that day, sighing in relief at the peace. Stupid fucking Askeladd having to rile him up. Fucking owl head. And his fucking ogre of a great-uncle too. All of them were so unbearable.

Thorfinn glanced at the clothes that sat next to him on the desk. They were clean and pressed, something he never in a thousand years thought he would be able to wear. He gently touched the fabric, barely recognizing that it was the one he saw yesterday at the tailors. It was a beautiful blue coat with gold threads at the shoulders and cuffs. There were also custom bracers with gold bands, and a new sturdy sheath that he saw was from the marketplace yesterday. He recognized white pants, a white and blue cloak, and a white undershirt. There was also many types of trinkets and embellishments, along with a gold brooch in the shape of Vegvisir.

He didn’t know where to start with dressing. He’s never had to put on so many layers of clothes before. But it was better to learn now than to stand around naked. Slowly, he dressed himself into the clothes one by one, until he felt that he was wearing it correctly. He had a bit of trouble with how to put on certain items, such as the white cravat and his fancy new bracers. Lacing them up was the most tedious thing ever, his irritation only rising when he had to start over again. But he got everything done to his surprise.

It felt…odd to say the least. He was wearing nice clothes that fit him like a glove. He could also move well in it, probably a note Askeladd gave to the tailor that he was a personal guard to the Prince hence the flexibility. He moved around a bit, practicing his fighting moves and putting his weapons in his usual placement underneath the cloak.

Thorfinn figured he was ready so he walked towards the door, passing a mirror nearby and stopping fully in his tracks.

He didn’t recognize the person in the mirror. His blonde shaggy and typically messy hair was clean for once, straightened out and shining in the light. It framed around his face, showing that his hair was growing quite long. His face was clear and there was a certain type of glow to it. His outfit was the biggest shocker of all. Besides recognizing his father’s knife in its right place, the entire look screamed noble. A dark blue fitted military coat with a white cravat and gold embellishments across the chest, the gold lines on the shoulders and sleeves highlighting his outline. His white pants fit loosely but not to the point where it was baggy. His boots didn’t have furs, but we’re instead a black leather that have been polished so hard you could see your own reflection. His white cloak looked similar to the Jomsviking cloaks, but the undercolor of blue inside differed from theirs.

He looked different.

He smelled different.

He felt different.

It was a foreign feeling to be wearing such nice clothes and looking like this in a castle. Thorfinn quickly pinched himself on the cheek to make sure that this was him. That this wasn’t an illusion.

For the first time in years, he didn’t feel any anger in his heart. Something lost long ago, an emotion akin to curiosity was taking place. Was this…what it felt like to forget revenge for a brief second? Where he could appreciate the little things that didn’t give him bitterness?

Thorfinn thought hard as he stared at his reflection. He never granted himself the chance to think this way. Where all these thoughts and his emotions wasn’t solely based on being angry. More based on…what could it be? Realization? Like that he’s realizing he likes how he looks and feels. Or he’s realizing he likes that he was pampered today. Or he’s realizing about his feelings towards Canute-

Feelings towards Canute. Here we go again he thought, groaning inwardly. He had enough with the questions last night, why did they come back to haunt him again?

As much as he couldn’t stop staring, he felt something was off. Then he realized: it was his hair. It was too…straight. He quickly roughed it up and pushed his bangs back, impressed by the look it gave him. His clean hair gave him more volume and he supposed it looked nice. It felt more like him.

Thorfinn pulled his fathers dagger from the new sheath, twirling his knife handle and immediately following up with a fighting position. He held his knives out, his stance to battle feeling so natural that he knew he was doing it right. But looking at himself in the mirror felt like he was doing something off.

It was like looking at a total stranger that follows his every move and expression.

He frowned at the feeling that thought gave him, and put his knives back. He stood from his position and stared at himself once more.

Now that he was looking at what seemed to be the fanciest version of himself, he was becoming aware of what Askeladd was telling him the day before. Presentation can make a huge difference for one person. He shouldn’t care, but something was telling him if he didn’t properly present himself that it wasn’t going to have favorable consequences.

Thorfinn decided to practice his bow. He was reminded of Thorkell’s bow from yesterday and grimaced; surely the man was just joking around and being dramatic. But he bowed in a similar fashion to Canute: hand over chest and upper body down at a specific angle. So he guessed it was just like greeting the King but standing.

Thorfinn put left hand over his chest and bowed, looking at himself in the mirror while doing so. He tried a couple more attempts, adjusting his posture and facial expression to neutral, but there was only so much bowing a person can practice. He grimaced and conceded, deciding to move to dancing.

He got into position and pretended he was holding Canute in his arms- wait that didn’t sound right. Thorfinn faltered, blushed at his own mind and shook his thoughts away. He pretended he was holding a partner in his grasp and began the box step from yesterday. He moved back and around in a square, focusing on his foot pattern once again.

Yesterday, he got roasted by Thorkell for looking at the ground. Since it was the real deal today, he might as well just look up. He kept his head up and registered he was actually much smoother in movement yesterday.

He surprises himself sometimes, the way he can quickly learn things.

He continued his box step, imagining Canute smiling at him with his blonde hair dancing with him as well.

Thorfinn turned, a warm feeling spreading in his chest as he continued to spin. The feeling of freedom from yesterday was coming back and he imagined he was still spinning round, ready to meet Canute’s hands to stop him.

Until he opened his eyes and stopped in front of the mirror, cape and hair wrapping around him before falling to its correct place. He stared for a moment, faintly remember the person he’s staring at is himself.

Thorfinn blushed bright red and realized what he just did.

Oh, he is a fucking idiot, isn’t he? Prancing around alone in his room and thinking of the Prince of all things-

He slammed a fist on the wall next to the mirror, the wall shaking from the impact. What is he, a fucking rosy maiden now?! What was with him today? Ugh, he just wanted this whole thing to be over with and he can go back to thinking about revenge. Not gushy feelings about romance and dancing and Canute-

Oh, that’s right. He has a ball to attend.

He’ll deal with the feelings bullshit later. He took one last look in the mirror, fixing his hair and assembling his clothes into place. He double checked to make sure his knives were in their rightful place. With finality, he guessed he was ready. With that, he decided to exit his chambers.

When he exited the door, he could distantly hear an orchestra tuning their instruments somewhere down the hall. Then a voice faintly called out:

“Welcome, all noble families and friends, to the Royal ball! Please rise for the King!”

Well, it looks like he was late. And he wasn’t near Princess which was a bad sign. Hopefully he would be fine without him for the time being.

Thorfinn inhaled, mentally preparing for the unknown world he was to be thrust into. He set off, already lost in the maze of the castle.

Chapter Text

Canute grew up around parties like this his entire life.

Needless to say, he was sick of it.

There was nothing worse than being stuck in a chair or a room with a bunch of prissy, backstabbing people who were set to tarnish you or your family while remain nice to your face. Everyone in the room had an ulterior motive. Growing up, he learned the hard way that they were only interested in his title, and not in him.

That didn’t matter anymore. He was no longer that timid little child that would keep his mouth shut. Now he can play their game.

The royal ball is an event where the families and clans of nobility come to celebrate. The upper classes of society come to congregate in a grand area and discuss their politics in front of their greatest enemy and their potential allies. They waltz and foxtrot across the room, dressed in their luxurious splendors to showcase their wealth and class.

King Sweyn didn’t hold back on the celebration tonight. The ball room was, to put it simply, magnificent.

The room was massive, with light oak wood grained walls decorated with massive windows and red curtains, torches lit on the side walls decorated with various flowers; having white roses and blue delphiniums as the main center pieces. The smooth hardwood floors shined brightly, proudly showing its intricate gold designs of diagonal squares and the emblem of the Danish army in the center. Large crystal candle lit chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, lighting up the room and brightening the atmosphere. The entryway to the party showcased a large grandeur wood staircase that guests walked down in fashion, making everyone admire their outfits and presence.

Jomsviking guards dressed in their splendid armory were posted at every corner, courtesy of Floki’s command. An impressive orchestra handpicked by the King himself was busy playing away the perfect songs for the event. There were sommeliers, waiters, and male servants dressed in fancy garments walking around with trays of liquor. The crowd was enjoying themselves truly.

The Prince entered the party from the back end, where only members of the royal court were allowed. Canute took his time walking towards the throne, placed five feet away from where his father sat. As per tradition, the royal family sits in the center in a staircased stage to oversee the celebration. They could join the crowd if they wanted to, but Canute found it rare for himself to do such.

A royal servant noticed his presence and announced it to the room: “Presenting his royal Highness, Prince Canute of Denmark!”

The crowd applauded and stared in awe as Canute moved to his seat. He heard whispers from the ladies, and even some men, of his looks, his beautiful hair, and his outfit.

Indeed, his outfit tonight was a bit different. He bore his signature fur red cloak, but underneath wore a white dress coat embellished with gold signature designs with accessories to match and a blue cravat, his main accessory being a gold brooch in the shape of Helm of Awe. His white pants to match with his polished black military boots that he finally found the courage to wear after all this time. He was dressed like a king.

Speaking of kings, Sweyn took notice of him. He could see his father silently judging everything he was doing. But he wouldn’t let that falter him.

He knew there was something suspicious going on tonight.

The crowd clapped as the Prince sat down, graceful and regal in his movement. Sweyn spoke once he was settled.

“You look almost ready for the throne, Canute.”

“…that’s quite the compliment, Father.”

“Hmph. Still have a long way to go.”

Canute only remained silent, his eyes never leaving his fathers cold stare. They stared at each other for a moment with no words, but a silent conversation strong enough to be heard.

King Sweyn feigned tiredness and looked away, a quiet admittance of backing down. Canute smirked and slightly relaxed in his chair. He could feel his pride flowing through him at once again beating his dad.

Moments of time began to pass. He begin getting approached by other nobles and leaders who greeted him. The orchestra boomed with music, playing the Emperor’s Waltz for the fitting occasion. At some point in time, Floki and Gunnar have joined him and his father on the stage to overlook the event and talk. Most of the conversation was specifically towards the King; Canute could only look ahead and listen in on what was being said.

Half an hour into the ball, some of the guests were even bold enough to ask the Prince for a dance. He politely rejected each of them, sometimes even forcing a laugh of pity when one of them were persistent in their pursuits. After turning down another poor noble, he heard Gunnar and Floki chuckling behind him.

“Not much for a dance, your Highness?” Floki inquired, making light conversation.

“Ah, his young Highness has always been this way since he was young. It’d be shocking if he were to initiate first!” Gunnar laughed. Canute huffed at the mention of his faults, but relented at being too harsh on Gunnar.

“No, dances tend to not be my main focus of these events. The conversation of the people gets my interest though.” Canute stated, keeping his tone formal. Gunnar and Floki hummed in approval, and Canute just knew his father was glancing his way. He ignored it.

The guests of honor, consisting of Thorkell’s men and the giant himself, made their way into the ballroom. Most of them gawked at the scenery, astonished with the beautiful lights and dancing. As well as the pretty noble women in their fancy gowns. Out of respect for their leader, none of them thankfully wolf whistled or made a scene in the nobles presence.

Thorkell appeared with his first mate, Asgeir, donning a cleaned up version of his battle outfit. He wore golden trinkets and medals across his chest to signify his victories and a golden brooch in the shape of a wolf. Asgeir was the same in his outfit, but wore a clean white cloak with a golden brooch in the shape of Huginn and Munnin.

The royal servant called out for their arrival, “Presenting Thorkell the Tall and his men, vassals of his highness!”

Everyone applauded at their entrance, intrigued by the crowd of warriors that were filling the large room. They whispered amongst themselves ever so quietly, although they weren’t subtle about their talks either. Mentions of their ‘betrayal’ in London were resurfacing. Asgeir grimaced at the sight, knowing full well this was an outcome. He felt a large hand on his shoulder, and looked to see his commander smiling down at him with reassurance. His heart began to swell as he returned the smile back.

“It’s not like you to care what others think, Asgeir. Let them talk. We are under the Prince, so we’re as good as pardoned.” Thorkell soothed the smaller blonde, making his companion a little less tense.

“Will you still let them talk even if you show them your dancing moves, Captain?” Asgeir teased, leaning into the hand that was still on his shoulder.

“Of course! Speaking of moves, that jarl over there is hogging the mead. Let’s go!” Thorkell exclaimed and the two made their way into the crowd.

Askeladd slowly made his way into view, earning notice from the royal servant. He began his announcement: “Presenting Sir Askeladd, son of Olaf, and royal advisor of his Highness!”

Everyone stared and clapped at the newcomer descending down the stairs, noble men whispering and ladies giggling at the dashingly handsome man. Canute took notice of how Askeladd looked; to which he definitely stood out.

The older man cleaned up nicely; he wore a white cloak that more wrapped around him like a toga from past Roman emperors, and wore a red dress coat underneath with gold embellishments and accessories all over the front. A brooch with the symbol of the serpent was pinning the cloak and accentuating the waist. He wore white pants as well with gold stripes on the outlines, and black boots meant for the commanders of the army. He looked fitting to be an leader in battle.

Askeladd made his way through the crowd and to Canute and Sweyn, bowing as he made eye contact with them. “Your Majesty. Your Highness. Thank you for granting such a wonderful event. Thorkell and I could not have been more grateful of your generous hospitality.”

Spoken like a true noble. Canute can’t help but wonder where his retainer’s eloquence comes from. Was Askeladd born noble as well?

“There is no need for formalities, Askeladd. I am happy to be celebrating the return of my youngest son with the men who saved him. Please, enjoy yourself tonight” Sweyn replied, his eyes never leaving Askeladd for a second.

Askeladd simply raised his head and smiled at the King. But even Canute could see the smile was fake. “Thank you, your Majesty.”

Askeladd walked to the Prince’s side, standing at the farthest end of the chair, away from the King. “Has anything started yet?” He asked in a low voice.

“Nothing of notice yet. I’ve only been getting greeted by other clans and leaders. Mostly just watching the party.” Canute replied languidly. “Thorkell’s been really entertaining the guests though.” The two watched as Thorkell roughly put his arm on some random jarl’s shoulders, describing in vivid detail about a story that has the some of audience enraptured.

Askeladd looked around the room, eyes scanning for another person. “Where’s Thorfinn?”

“I’m not sure. He hasn’t appeared yet.” Canute said with a neutral tone. He prayed Askeladd wasn’t catching the tint on his cheeks or noticed how his heart skipped a beat at the name.

“That brat. Of all the times to be late, he chooses now.” Askeladd sighed and continued to look forward. Canute inwardly sighed in relief.

“I’m sure he will appear.” Canute cleared his throat, dropping his lazy demeanor and readjusting in his seat to stop the fidgeting he was doing with his hands. Damn his heart for beating quickly like this. “I heard it was madness trying to get him ready.”

“No kidding. All those servants and even Thorkell’s men have bite marks to prove it”

Canute smiled as he pictured an angry wet Thorfinn chomping on someone’s arm in anger. It was like seeing a wild cat freak out at everyone. The thought alone made him chuckle to himself.

The two men continued to talk amongst themselves, watching the festivities pass by them. Canute kept getting introductions from nobles and still turned down every invitation to dance. Askeladd was approached by a couple of ladies and some men, asking him to be their dance partner. One such man, Canute recognized to be one of the generals in the Danish army, was currently asking the older man for his hand in the next song.

“I would be honored, Lord Hoskuld.” Askeladd responded, flashing a charming smile at the man who gleamed back at the acceptance. As the general left, the advisor glanced at the Prince who looked taken aback.

He chuckled and smirked in response. “He’s one of the highest ranked army generals in Jutland. He’d be helpful in our plan.”

With that, the older blonde walked to the dance floor and met his partner in the center. The two formally bowed to each other before elegantly getting into dancing position. Canute watched them in interest, as he was sure this was something that not even his old crew would imagine their leader doing. They were talking to each other and smiling, although Canute could only guess what the topic was about. Even as the beginning notes for the Swan Lake Waltz began, they were still talking and holding onto each other too casually.

The dance crowd began to move in a Viennese waltz. Askeladd and Hoskuld took the center of attention and began to dance perfectly to the melody. And to everyone’s incredulity, Askeladd flowed flawlessly in dance. If he hasn’t danced in a while, it surely didn’t show. He moved with such grace and spirited flare. The general seemed to match his energy quickly, and the two ignited the dance floor with a passion that only others wish to replicate.

The crowd rotated around them, both men in close proximity as they performed deep turns and even a dip at the height of the song. The crowd talked amongst themselves about the two dancing, watching with excitement as they captured the dance floor in a matter of minutes. Thorkell and his men wore surprised expressions all over; this was the last thing they ever expected from a fellow Viking leader. And he looked amazing doing it too.

The song came to its end and the dance crowd ended in position. In their dramatic gesture, Hoskuld caught Askeladd as he slightly fell in a dip, both men ending in that position. The room applauded loudly, some of the Viking men whistling at the way the dance finished. Canute clapped with them, holding an awe filled expression towards what he just witnessed. The dance crowd exited from their positions and began to dance to another song that started.

Hoskuld lifted Askeladd up with slow dramatics, and the two met each other upright. They exchanged a few more words, Askeladd laughing at whatever was said. If Canute didn’t know any better, it would seem that they were flirting with each other. They then bowed before each other and the blonde man made his way back to the throne.

His advisor was slightly panting as he made his way back to the Prince’s side. As he stood in his previous spot, he exhaled loudly. Canute looked at him expectingly and said, “I didn’t realize you know how to dance.”

“I haven’t danced at an event like this in years” Askeladd answered and said nothing else. He was watching the crowd move again, almost distracting himself from how out of breath he was.

Canute considered himself to have a keen sense of reading people. Years of being in the royal court taught him how to sniff out true emotions under performed actions and words. It was hidden well, a little too well, but it seeped through like raging smoke behind a closed door.

Askeladd hated dancing with that man. Why did he? Canute couldn’t guess but he had a feeling he wasn’t known to be a dancer, especially amongst other warriors. Or maybe he didn’t like dancing with other Norse warriors to begin with.

“Don’t push yourself for the sake of the plan. If you don’t want to dance, then don’t force it.” Canute finalized, resettling in his chair to get more comftorable. Askeladd only blinked in response and side eyed the younger blonde, his expression unreadable but eyes cool. After a moment, he only smirked and looked back to the party.

Canute was beginning to feel restless.

Askeladd had left earlier to mingle in the crowd, socializing with Thorkell and Asgeir as they were deep in conversation about something. The room was filled with music and the hum of voices from every corner. The people kept on dancing and were also progressively getting buzzed as the night went on.

He couldn’t find it in him to care about surveying at this point. He knew he wore boredom on his face in plain view, and he was sure others were catching notice. But he watched the room move in front of him in waves, the bright colors becoming dull. He couldn’t bring himself to feel happy about any of these things. He hasn’t felt a spark of joy at a ball in so long, he doesn’t remember what it felt like to enjoy being here. He felt vacant.

Stuck in the same old tiredly lonely place.

He shouldn’t be feeling this way. He’s adapted a new outlook on life, he has his new found motivations. He’s a new person. But like old habits, the emotions he felt growing up still remain. The emotion of feeling closed in, suffocating in the walls and the room continuing to move without notice.

“Prince Canute” a voice interrupted his thoughts, causing the men to stare at the source. A man stood at the bottom of the throne’s stairwell, his right hand on his chest and a smile on his face. Canute recognized him from his childhood.

It was Lord Erik of Norway, son of Hakonss and the Earl of Lade and Nothumbria, who was a great friend and gothi to his father. Although Canute rarely got to see him often, he and Erik played together when they were kids from time to time. He was one of the few people of nobility that treated him like any other person and not some gentle lamb.

Erik looks handsome in his older years, Canute realizing that the man had always been a looker. But they were children then. Now here he was as an adult; an accomplished man who ruled over the eastern lands of Norway. He had long brown hair and wore an impressive green suit filled with medals and trinkets that he collected from his time ruling. He had a signature smirk, one that Canute always saw with him around women, but never towards him.

His green eyes shifted Canute’s figure up and down. The Prince involuntarily felt a chill up his spine, a reaction that wasn’t going unprecedented by him. There was a look in Erik’s eyes that bordered between conspiracy and lust, and it made Canute uncomfortable.

Erik looked towards King Sweyn. “Your Majesty. It’s great to see you both again.”

“Ahh, Erik! It’s been a long time. How is your father, is he well?” Sweyn exclaimed, his voice light in cheer.

“Yes, he is. He asked me to pass down a message.” Erik replied smoothly. Canute blinked, mentally saving that information for later.

“Of course. There’s no need for all these talks of politics. Please enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you, your Majesty. If I may be so bold, may I ask your son, his Highness Prince Canute, for a dance?” His green eyes turned to look at blue once again.

Canute eyes widened at the proposal. He just spent the last hour and a half turning down requests from various nobles in front of his father. As much as he missed his friend, he really didn’t want to dance with him. Something in his smirk made him uneasy. Before he could open his mouth to turn the other down, the sound of something opening filled the room.

The doors at the front of the ballroom suddenly opened, two guards making way for the very last guest of the party. The room fell silent as they looked towards the interruption, only to gaze in absolute wonderment.

There stood a Warrior Prince.

His stance was straight and confident, his brown amber eyes fierce but held a twinge of curiosity. His royal blue outfit complimented his image. His hair, although a bit messy, was endearing and properly fixed to look noble. The hilt of his weapon was shown proudly on his belt as he walked forwards into the room, taking in the sight before him.

The ballroom was painted in a gold light, yellows painting the room everywhere. Everyone’s outfits looked like random splotches of color on a painting, but his bright blue proceeded to stand out from everyone else’s. As he looked down from the balcony, he could see everyone staring at him. Even the orchestra had stopped playing their music just to look at him.

The crowd began to murmur amongst themselves, talking about the new guest that just stopped the party.

“Who is that?”

“Do you recognize that man?”

“Is he a jarl? Or a noble?”

“No way he’s a jarl, look at his outfit! He must be born of nobility!”

“Is he a Prince from a neighboring country?”

“He’s so handsome!”

Canute found himself staring, entranced by the glorious mystery man. He held the room in his hands, captivated everyone by his looks and mystique. He knew to make sure to know that he was what a dignified warrior looks like. He is a vision in blue and white, undeniably regal.

He wanted a closer look. He rose from his seat, almost forgetting that Erik was standing next to him. Canute quickly spoke, “please excuse me, Erik” before leaving to enter the crowd.

Erik stared at Canute in shock, earning a surprised chuckle from Askeladd and an incredulous look on Sweyn’s face. “My apologizes, Lord Erik. I’m not sure what happened.” Floki apologized for the King, almost as flustered as everyone else was.

Slowly, the man descended down the stairs to the crowd, his white cape flowing behind him. The blue coloring underneath his cape revealed itself with each step he took, cascading like waves upon the sea. He hesitated on the last step before formally bowing towards the crowd, and then finally descending down.

Canute parted through the crowd of nobles, jarls, and warriors as they got out of his way in their stupor. The crowd split far enough for both the secretive Warrior Prince and the Prince of Denmark to see each other.

The two walked towards each other, enchanted by the others beauty.

The world went still. It was as if there was no one else in the room but these two. It was a truly magical moment. One that Canute only heard of in fantasy stories.

They would forever remember this moment.

Once the two reached face to face, they stared at each other. Canute couldn’t help but feel a tug of familiarity as he looked at the man. His face held no hostility or sign of annoyance. His eyes sparkled in curiosity, as if he was drinking in the scene in front of him.

Canute, not for the first time in a while, found himself unsure of what to say once more. The smart thing would be to not say anything, as protocol goes the royal servant should’ve announced the man’s name by now. But the room was so enamored by the scene that even the servant was quiet.

Canute could feel his pulse quicken in his neck, his mind urging him in eagerness to speak first. Was he feeling too excitable? Or tense? Or was it a feeling of…

The man broke the silence. “What’s wrong, Princess? Cat got your tongue?”

Canute could feel his heart burst as his eyes widened. A blush was forming on his face as he felt shock come over him like a bucket of ice water. He knew that voice, and he knew that face well.

“…Thorfinn?”

The warrior prince broke his neutral facade and his eyes turned from curious to perturbed. A pout was on his lips. “Of course it’s me. What? Did you think I was someone else?”

Canute’s mouth was wide open as he stepped back and looked fully at Thorfinn. The Thorfinn he knew would be dressed in ripped tan furs, messy hair, grimy face, and a knife in his hand. His golden eyes that were always full of rage but assertiveness that screamed he wasn’t afraid of anything. The man who rescued him from the clutches of Thorkell, who teased him relentlessly, and comforted him after Ragnar. The man who he just picture as a feral cat chomping on the arms of some poor servant because he had to take a bath.

Canute let out a gentle laugh. It was a small one but clear enough for those nearby to hear. Thorfinn looked confused, stepping back at the prince like he grew a third head.

Was he getting laughed at now?! Did he really look that bad??

“My oh my, Thorfinn. You look beautiful. Like a real warrior prince.” Canute breathed out, his laughter slowing down and eyes bright. He looked at this beautiful man in his new glory, whose ears turned red from the compliment.

The crowds that consisted of Viking warriors roared out in surprise.

“That’s Thorfinn?!”

“No way, that’s the guy that defeated our boss?!”

“He looks completely different!”

“My gods, he can actually take a bath and look nice!”

“Thank gods I didn’t get splashed on for nothing!”

“He looks like a prince!”

“Hahaha! That’s my grand-nephew! Show them, warrior!” Thorkell boasted out and slapped his knee in delight.

Thorfinn jumped at the loud noises, glaring at the men who were fangirling over him. His glare wasn’t strong enough to deter them, as they notice that a blush had crept from his ears to his cheeks. They crooned in delight.

“Do they have to be so annoying?” He mumbled as he side eyed the crowd; annoyed at all the noise.

“They’re just happy to see you. As am I” Canute smiled and Thorfinn felt himself relax slightly at the sight.

“Presenting Sir Thorfinn Karlsefni, son of Thors, and royal guard to his Highness, Prince Canute” the royal servant finally announced. The crowd murmured in delight at the news of the mysterious man, watching as the two young men walked towards the throne.

Askeladd glanced at Floki, who was as white as a sheet the moment he heard the name get announced. The square head man caught Askeladd’s eye before quickly looking away. The older man took note of the reaction, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the underlying meaning.

Canute stopped in the middle of the room, an idea overcoming him. He knew the moment he got back to his father, he would be forced to communicate with Erik. As much as he would like to, he had a strange feeling…

So, Canute turned around and offered his hand to Thorfinn. “May I have the first dance with you?”

Thorfinn faltered, his brain stopping the moment he heard the words. “Huh?”

“A dance, Thorfinn. May I have this dance?”

“Are you s-“ Thorfinn glanced at the throne to see King Sweyn and three other men staring at them. He glanced to the side and saw Askeladd who had the biggest look of smug on his face. He also had a look in his eye, one that Thorfinn understood completely.

Thorfinn relented and closed his eyes, the blush slowly returning back to his face.

“I accept.”

The crowd murmured again in excitement, the Vikings squealing at what they just witnessed. He could feel everyone’s stares on him, an unusual wave of nervousness suddenly crashing onto him. He still didn’t get the whole dance thing down, and now he had to do the real thing.

Canute took his hand in his, breaking Thorfinn from his thoughts. The smile he gave was enough for him to calm down, before Canute put his other hand on his back and electrifying Thorfinn from the touch.

“Don’t worry about waltzing correctly. Just let the music sway you. I’ll lead us both.” He whispered in the smaller man’s ear, causing an involuntary shiver to go down Thorfinn’s spine.

“I promise not to step on your feet again, your Highness.” Thorfinn muttered sarcastically, and Canute snickered in his ear again. The Prince looked at the conductor of the orchestra and nodded to begin.

The conductor hmphed in understanding and turned to the orchestra, who had all prepared their instruments. With the wave of his arms, the orchestra began with a soft gentle tune.

The two began to slowly sway into a box step, their capes flowing behind him with each step. When they circled around each other, Thorfinn finally glanced at the crowd and felt his cheeks rise at the attention they were getting. He looked at Canute as they faced each other again.

“They’re all looking at us.” 

“Of course they are. They can’t keep their eyes off of you” Canute said back and performed an underturn. The two were surprisingly in rhythm, their slow start turning into a normal pace as they got more comftorable being in each others arms.

To both their surprise, Thorfinn didn’t mess up any steps. He didn’t even step on Canute’s boots. While he was tense, he felt secure in the Prince’s hold, allowing himself to be guided with no fight. Canute took this as a good sign and began to rotate them across the floor.

Thorfinn was beginning to understand the way of dance. It was a partnership, a flow of conversation, and a way to speak without saying anything at all. They were putting their trust in each other to not let the other fall. They bounced to the music and moved as smoothly as metal scraping off each other in battle.

They glided across the shining wooden floors, the lights around twinkling as though they were the stars illuminating their path. The crowd of nobles and warriors looked on, amazed at the scene in front of them.

Thorkell was grinning wide with glossy eyes, his face painting a mixture of proud and touched for his family. He let out a small “awww” when he saw the Prince spin Thorfinn before having him remeet up close, causing the smaller blonde to blush.

Askeladd watched the scene with a gentle smile on his face. He couldn’t help but have feelings of pride for the kid that stood beside him for over twelve years. He almost felt like a proud parent, feeling conflicted over that last statement and also how grown up Thorfinn looked. In this light, dancing with the prince.

He knew there was nothing that was going to change Thorfinn’s mind about getting revenge on him. But the way he and the Prince acted around each other was annoyingly endearing. It was almost like he could feel hope swelling in his chest, much to his displeasure.

Maybe Thorfinn will be able to lead a different life other than violence.

Thorfinn tensed as he was suddenly dipped backwards, his first instinct to let go of the hand in his and clamp it onto the shoulder. But Canute held onto him firmly with no issue, staring directly into his eyes as he gently brought him back up and waltzed around again. That strength always seemed to surprise him.

The song ended as the two slowed their movement to a stop, breaking out of their reverie. They stared at each other, barely registering the applause from the audience.

Blue met amber, ice met fire, and sparks were flying.

“You did an excellent job for your first dance Thorfinn” Canute whispered as he bowed and, in a daring moment, kissed Thorfinn’s hand.

Thorfinn startles, his face painted red as the audience once again exclaimed in surprise.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Princess?!” Thorfinn whispered to him alarmed, his voice bordering a yell.

Canute only chuckled and looked up at the smaller man. “Getting ready for the next song.”

“The next song?” Even though Thorfinn was beginning to understand dancing, that didn’t particularly mean he enjoyed it so much to give it a second try. But Canute seemed resolute as he took Thorfinn by the hand again and nodded towards the orchestra. The conductor understood and soon began to play a more upbeat sound and rhythm.

“Just follow my lead again” Canute said as they began to sway to the beat. “We’re going to be moving faster to this song. Think of every move we practiced last night, but imagine it differently; like a sword fight. When I tell you now, think to it as if you’re dodging an attack”

Thorfinn barely had time to process it as the two began to pick up their pace. He had no choice but to go along with it. As the orchestra crescendo’s into volume, they waltzed around the floor in a quick and smooth pace.

“Okay now” Canute said, the two performing an underturn as Thorfinn quickly spun around and met perfectly back to Canute in timing. They danced to the beat again. “Now” Thorfinn reached out on the fourth beat, his arm almost waving to the invisible strings of the music. They joined together and moved across the floor once more. “Now” Thorfinn turned again and let himself turn Canute, the two side stepping hand in hand.

At the pluck of the strings, Thorfinn let himself get dipped once more, once again surprised at the strength of what was once the shy prince. This time as they looked each other in the eye again, Canute brought him up quickly and for a moment, they stopped. He gave a smile, a genuine smile, and simply said “you’re doing great.”

The orchestra boomed once again and on queue Canute said “and turn!” Thorfinn spun around and noticed that they were not alone. Many others have decided to join them on the ballroom floor, copying the same moves they were doing.

In synchrony, they all moved across the floor to the rhythm of the music. Askeladd simply smiled to himself, before glancing at the King and his guest. He also saw Floki and Gunnar next to the King, who was currently watching the affair with a neutral look on his face. They continued to speak quietly, looking almost scandalous as if something was amiss.

“Is that Thorfinn dancing with Prince Canute?” A voice asked in an incredulous tone. Askeladd knew that voice well and turned to see his second in command Bjorn standing next to him, his eyes wide and mouth hung open in absolute shock. “That clean noble looking kid?? Our Thorfinn is dancing?!”

“It would seem so. It’s a miracle, isn’t it?” Askeladd replied, turning to look fully at his companion. The brunette was sweating from just walking to him, and Askeladd had to bite back the urge to scold the man. Even though Bjorn follows what he says like it’s law, he’s still stupidly stubborn enough to do things independently that were against his own health.

He looked at Bjorn’s outfit, noting that he took the time to dress in his usual battle dresses. But he was wearing the gold brooch in the shape of a bear’s paw, the one that Askeladd had bought for him yesterday.

“You didn’t have to come out here. You should be resting.”

“Hmph. I got bored. And I wanted to see what all the fuss for a royal ball is about. Even the dancing looked interesting.”

“Yeah, well. Most of the time, it’ll be like the way we’re standing now.”

“Oh really? And who was that guy you were dancing with earlier?”

Askeladd raised an eyebrow and glanced at Bjorn. The man had a pout on his face and the blonde held back a smile that was fighting at his lips. “Oh? You saw?”

“I didn’t see anything. Thorkell and Asgeir told me you were dancing tonight. I didn’t know you knew how. I also didn’t think you’d dance with some Norse general.” Bjorn replied begrudgingly, brown eyes watching the crowd move.

“Hmmm?? Is that jealousy I hear in your tone?” Askeladd teased, deflecting from the last statement. Bjorn’s ears turned red and he clenched his fist in automatic response.

“Shut up. Do you want me to punch you now?”

Askeladd grinned and chuckled endearingly, “Hehe, don’t worry, baby bear. I only danced with one person tonight.“

Bjorn only rolled his eyes. Whether it was from injury or he was used to Askeladd’s antics, he didn’t respond to the taunting. “If it weren’t for this wound, I could’ve showed off my moves as well.”

“You wanted to dance?” Askeladd asked astonished. The two watched as Thorkell lead Asgeir to the dance floor and started to move along with the crowd elegantly. Those who didn’t know the giant could dance could only stare baffled at the sight.

“Nah” Bjorn finalized, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not a dancer. Fighting is more my style”

“You can be a fighter and still dance. Didn’t we drill that into Thorfinn yesterday?”

“Yeah but Thorfinn’s still young. He has time to learn new things.” The rest of the statement was left unsaid but they both heard it.

Bjorn didn’t have much time left.

The music continued to play as the two were quiet. Bjorn then said gently, “I still would’ve liked to try.”

“…I would’ve taught you, if that was the case” Askeladd responded back softly.

A moment of silence passed before Bjorn chuckled. “Heheh, I would’ve stepped on your feet anyway.”

Canute was actually having fun. It turns out that with a bit more practice and guidance, Thorfinn can be a great dancing partner. They became comftorable enough to where they could try new moves to spice up the routine.

The crowd became more lively as the two of them danced together, probably from the energy of Thorfinn’s dramatic entrance or the fact that the Prince was dancing at the event tonight. There was laughter and chatter everywhere, Thorkell’s men finally intermingling with the snooty nobles and getting along like comrades in battle. Even some Jomsvikings left their posts to join in on the fun.

Thorfinn and Canute stayed to themselves, smiling to each other and gliding across the floor in tandem. Canute heard a mention from a passerby that they looked like star-crossed lovers. The rumors about them were spreading like wildfire, but Canute didn’t care. He was happy here in his guard’s arms. A thought that he never thought he’d get to feel after all this time.

But Canute wanted to get away for a little bit, stop being the center of attention for the guests. He decided to end their dance mid song, smoothly guiding Thorfinn to the edge of the dance circle. Canute whispered in Thorfinn’s ear “do you want to get out?” before they did another underturn, to which the smaller blonde nodded in response.

He promptly took Thorfinn’s good hand and led them out the dance floor, passing by other nobles and warriors who looked at them in shock. They briefly heard a wolf whistle somewhere in the room, and both blushed, deciding to ignore it.

Canute found himself outside in one of the training areas away from the party. The winter air did its best at cooling him down from the warmth in the ballroom.

Thorfinn was next to him, catching his breath as if he just sprinted a mile. He quickly found a step where spectators would watch and sat down. He groaned loudly in relief, earning a look from Canute.

“All that dancing…for a celebration? What a load of bullshit” Thorfinn grumbled, exhaling as he finally balanced his breathing. Canute blinked in surprise at the statement before realizing that Thorfinn finally spoke out. The mask that he wore tonight in the room had been taken off.

“It is quite tiring, isn’t it? But it’s fun at the same time” Canute replied and walked up to Thorfinn who was busy fiddling with his boots laces. “With the right partner, it can even be the most magical time of your life”

The words did not fall on deaf ears. Thorfinn showed no reaction to the statement besides feeling the tips of his ears turn red again. But they were outside in the cold, so it was excusable. At least Canute thought so.

“Is this what you had to deal with growing up? Stuffy rooms, annoying rich assholes, and dancing until you’re exhausted?” Thorfinn asked and relaxed, slouching over as he watched over the Prince who stood in the snow.

“A good portion of my childhood consisted of this, yes. But this is the first time in years that I’ve danced with someone at the ball willingly.” Canute responded nonchalantly, surprising even himself at the information that slipped out of him. Thorfinn raised an eyebrow at the Prince, his expression looking for context. It was too late to take it back, so Canute decided to enlighten him.

“When I was growing up, I had to learn how to dance when events like these would happen. My eldest brother was my teacher and eventually we both taught my younger sister. Dancing was fun with them. We had fun learning every type of dance we could in those practices.” Canute remised, his eyes becoming distant in memory as he remembered the childhood memories fondly. Ragnar would watch over them and play them beautiful music on the viola, while he would happily take turns dancing with Harald and Estrid. He felt bittersweet nostalgia tugging his heartstrings.

He continued and the bittersweet feeling turned sour. “But my younger self wasn’t cordial when it came to attending these royal events. And I would get berated by my father for looking like a fool, for having too much fun. Eventually, I refused any request to dance when asked...”

“…Until now.” Canute finished as lifted his boot off a snow pile, glancing at Thorfinn with tinted cheeks. He’s never told anyone this before, and he felt oddly vulnerable.

“…Not bad for finally sticking it in your father’s face. But did you really have to choose someone who’s never danced before?” Thorfinn asked, his question catching the Prince off guard.

Canute huffed a laugh from his nose, pleased with the response. “Oh come on now. You had to learn one way or another. I’m sure you’ve danced in your childhood as well?”

“…I remember seeing my parents dance like we did. And my elder sister could do the same.” Thorfinn confided, Canute raising his brow at the new information. He didn’t know much about Thorfinn’s family besides the mention of his father, who was apparently the greatest Jomsviking to exist. And a great dancer. Canute found himself wanting to know more.

“You didn’t know your parents were dancers?” The royal inquired, looking curiously at the guard.

“No, they never told me.” The guard murmured quietly, falling silent in thought.

“What about your elder sister?” The Prince pressed on. This got a reaction out of Thorfinn as he had a small smile on his face, eyes recalling some long forgotten memory.

"Pft. The one time I remember her dancing with me, she tossed me around like Thorkell did yesterday.” He scoffed fondly, arms crossed in defense. He could still remember laughing and being terrified for his life when Ylva spun him off the ground.

“You really never danced before?”

“Does jumping up and down in a line with others count as dancing?”

Canute smiled at the thought of a tiny Thorfinn dancing happily with his village locals. “So, you have been in a folk dance before!”

“Not since I was a child. I was…six winters old.”

“Well, good thing you’re not too rusty on your moves. Next festival dance will be soon, and I rarely get to go out and participate in the festivities with the common folk. We should show them your jig.”

“As if, Princess. Go look like a fool in front of others.”

“It’s only foolish if I’m dancing alone.”

“Then have fun doing that.“

Canute should be used to his rudeness, but still felt taken aback. It was comical at this point. He snorted and quickly put his hand over his mouth to stop the sound too late. The other blonde looked at him astounded before breathing a laugh out of his nose. The two looked at each other and chuckled, Canute smiling at Thorfinn in fondness while the other smiled at the ground.

A speck of white entered Canute’s vision, causing him to blink in confusion. Canute looked up at the sky, his blue eyes encaptured by what he was seeing. Thorfinn raised an eyebrow and looked up to see what made him go quiet.

The night sky was filled with stars, while the backdrop was painted a beautiful gradient of black to purple. It was like that thing Askeladd had once told him about with stars; something about Caer Gwydion and the mother Llys Dôn, or as the Greeks called her, Cassiopeia being the embodiment of some constellations in the sky. Something else about Heracles and Hera with milk too. He couldn’t be bothered to remember, refusing to put in effort out of spite. Some heavy clouds overcast parts of the sky, slowly passing by to reveal the moon.

Snowflakes were twinkling down from the stars, gentle and slow in their downfall. In a trance, Canute held out his hand and let the pieces fall onto his palm. Even though he’s seen snowfall multiple times and stared at the night sky, he’s never…truly appreciated it until now. Not the naive boy in the wagon or the newly raged Prince talking to the priest could compare.

The world is so beautiful. They are beautiful. But they lived in the violence and destruction of it all.

Thorfinn took in the sight before him; the Prince catching the stars from the sky.

He blushed and quickly glanced away, looking at the snow covered floor. He pushed some snow with his boot and decided to focus his attention on it. He was not going to think about how beautiful Canute looks right now. He was seriously not going to think about his thoughts from last night.

Fucking Canute and his pretty looks-

An idea sparked up in him and he began gathering the floor. Canute stopped looking up and curiously looked at the smaller man work on the ground.

“…what are you doing?” Canute asked gently, watching Thorfinn gather the bits of snow building on the floor.

“This” he replied and threw a small snowball at the Prince, hitting him in the shoulder. Canute gasped in surprise and quickly recovered, staring at Thorfinn in shock. The other stared back with the most devious smirk an his face.

“What are you- do you think I would engage in your childish games?” Canute guffawed, continuing to watch Thorfinn make another small ball of snow on the floor.

“You made me dance with you in front of the King and hundreds of snooty nobles tonight. I was forced to learn how to dance against my will in one day, and I was also ambushed this morning to get dressed up for an event that only lasts for three hours. I think a snowball is more than called for, Princess” Thorfinn said lowly, his tone provoking and sardonic. He didn’t care if he was being immature for once as he held another made snowball in view for the Prince to see. His emotions were too haywire for the past two days, and he wanted the royal to know his frustration.

“A royal ball is more than three hours, Thorfinn” Canute deadpanned, but mentally acknowledged that he was impressed by how quick Thorfinn learned. Before he could respond those sentiments, he got hit with another snowball in the chest. He could feel his mouth contort into a half smile and half open mouth shock as he attempted to dodge but was too late. “The nerve! You-“!

Another ball of snow was thrown, this time hitting Canute in the face. The Prince went still as he heard a low chuckle come from Thorfinn, who had yet another snowball prepared. He tossed it up and down, eyebrow raised at Canute and a smug smirk, awaiting the taller blonde’s response.

Canute let the ice fall from his face and glared at Thorfinn, blue eyes ablaze in challenge. He continued to scowl at the smaller man menacingly, lips in a tight line and body tense. Thorfinn only continued to stare back, now wondering how long Princess was going to stare at him with that odd look. They stood there for a moment, waiting for the other to break movement.

Canute’s eyes promptly shifted to the right, his body breaking the frigidness as if surprised at something. He stood up straight and cleared his throat. “Oh, hello there.”

Thorfinn blinked, his mind startled at the absence of noticing a person enter their vicinity. Was it a noble or a crew member? He dropped the snowball, looking behind him to see the source of who Canute was speaking to. To his confusion, there was nobody there.

In an instant, a flash of cold white snow blinded his vision and covered his face. He yelped in shock and jumped back, wiping the snow off and looking at Canute in absolute outrage. The Prince only smirked back, well pleased with the outcome of his trick. Thorfinn looked to the ground and saw the snowball he dropped gone.

All his years fighting and he got tricked by some Freyja look alike over a snowball?!

“Oh, so you want to play dirty now?”

“Only because you started it first!”

“Okay, that’s it.” Thorfinn gathered the snow on the floor and ran towards the Prince, who dropped his smugness instantly, squeaking and running in the other direction.

Soon, the two were chasing each other around the training grounds, throwing snow at the other in weak attempts. The sound of laughter and shouts filled in the air, Canute barely evading Thorfinn’s attacks. Thorfinn was sliding on the ground, trying to gather as much snow as he could while never taking his eyes off of the blonde.

The two were kicking and throwing snow around, white dust spreading everywhere in their endeavor. Thorfinn decided to end it by bear hugging the Prince and having the two of them collapse in the snow. Canute yelped as he was held and didn’t fight back, letting himself get manhandled.

As his head landed softly in the cold snow, he heard a muffled sound of laughter coming from his guard. Despite the coldness that was seeping through his body, his chest felt warm. His entire body remained in Thorfinn’s arms for longer than he expected, and he relished in being held. He giggled loudly at the feeling of being overjoyed, and realized this was the first time he felt happy at a royal ball. All because of Thorfinn.

Thorfinn felt, to his revelation, elated. He felt that feeling of freedom from yesterday when he whirled around met Canute at the end. Whatever anxious feelings he’s been feeling over the past two days (or months) suddenly vanished when he held the Prince in his arms like this, laughing and playing without care.

Whether it was out of adrenaline or just joy of being with Canute, Thorfinn felt at peace for the first time in a long, long time. He loosened his hold on the Prince and let his arms fall spread to his sides, looking up and catching his breath again.

“This is- this is ridiculous!” Canute cried out, huffs of exhaustion (or was it laughter) escaping his breath and he struggled to get out of the snow. He stood up and began dusting the ice off of him, making sure his outfit was still presentable. He stopped as he saw his guard was still lying in the snow.

His amber eyes stared up at the sky, as if he were in a dream. Canute blinked and stared at the scene in front of him. Thorfinn almost looked tranquil, as if all the anger had melted away into the snow. Without the madness, he actually looked his age; maybe even younger with the way his eyes looked and face relaxed. It was surreal to see, and endearing to Canute’s heart.

But they did have duties to obligate. “Are you going to get up, Thorfinn? We do have a party to go back to.” No response was made back.

“What are you doing?” He inquired, trying to see if he missed something in the sky.

“What’s it look like?” Thorfinn murmured softly, making Canute strain his hearing to understand.

“Watching the snow fall?”

“…im waiting for the Norðrljós to appear. There might be a chance the Valkeryies will come bless the sky.”

“Norðrljós?” Silence fills the air, the laughter from the party now echoing in the background. Canute could see the hesitation in Thorfinn from the way he tensed his jaw. As if he was debating on explaining himself. But he fortunately spoke.

“When I was a kid” Thorfinn started, his voice soft and eyes wistful. “The village I lived in was so cold, farming on any land was difficult, especially during the winter. It was a harsh time whenever snow came around. But sometimes during the winter, we got to see the lights in the sky; this pretty cacophony of blues and greens dance around while the snow fell to the earth. The oceans would be surrounded in fires of green, and glaciers stored the lights energy inside like a torch.” He recalled quietly, watching the snow slowly fall past his distant vision. He felt his chest pang at past memories, but he didn’t fight it this time, he let it be.

“My mother used to tell me stories, saying it was the Valkeryies blessing the sky, creating the Bifrost so they can bring in those worthy of Valhalla. But my father also said that they were seen as signs to guide those that were lost in the dark.” His eyes were half submerged sheen and pensive as he finished. He couldn’t understand why he was telling all of this to the Prince. He felt like he was exposing himself, it’s weird. But it was to Canute, so…

The royal listened soundlessly, watching the other speak without filter. The way Thorfinn looked and his tone, somber and fragile, made him want to hug the smaller man. But he suppressed his want and responded softly, “I think I know what you’re talking about, but I’ve never really seen it the way you’re describing. If they’re from your village, I don’t think they’ll appear here in Gainsborough.”

“I’ve seen it a couple times in the Northern parts of Mercia.” Thorfinn replied matter-of-factly, now looking at the Prince with expectation. “You could join instead of just standing there, you know.”

Canute blinked, processing the rare offer being made to him. Out of habit, his automatic response came out first: “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because we have a ball to go back to, and I don’t want to sully my clothes and- and- I don’t know.” Canute huffed, becoming a little exasperated at the lack of reaction towards logic. “Will you get up? We have to return.”

Whatever melancholy was plaguing Thorfinn immediately vanished, and he scoffed in response, “See, that’s your problem, Princess. You don’t do what you want.”

“…” Canute blinked rapidly, mouth open at the shock of being challenged.

This brute!

He’s adapted a new outlook on life, found the courage to become a leader, and finally say no to others. And here his guard was, still teasing him and telling him off like they were back in the wagon in Wales.

Thorfinn decided he wasn’t done voicing his frustrations tonight, so the royal was just going to have to listen regardless. “You may be smarter than you look. You even act different now. But you still refuse to act for you. You act for the people, but never yourself. Do you even like doing anything for yourself? I’m just saying, how can you expect to get anything done when you’re still following orders from your dad or anyone else?”

Canute could only stand there, digesting the words that came out of a man who strength was compared to Fenrir himself. The one who blushed whenever he made close contact with him. Someone so simple yet amazing can see these flaws about him. He could retort back and say the same thing about Askeladd, but he held his tongue. Even he knew it was more complex than that. The royal felt defeated at his lack of comebacks.

Canute looked around, scanning the area for anyone. When no one was in sight, he looked back at his frustratingly charming guard. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and walked forward to the other.

“Fine then.”

The Prince laid down next to the Warrior amongst the snow covered ground. The two of them only looked towards the sky, Canute refusing to turn his head out of defiance. His heart was beating a little too loudly in his ears.

“If someone comes by, they’ll assume the worst, you know?”

“Alright, I get it. I’ll deal with the blame myself Princess.”

Canute felt his chest deflate, relaxing slightly at the answer given. They fell into a comftorable silence. Both watched their breaths forming clouds in their vision as it hung in the air. As they laid in the cold, looking up at the starry sky, Canute couldn’t help but reminisce.

It’s so strange that a couple months ago, Canute would’ve been cowering in fear and unable to speak while Thorfinn would glare at him with annoyance or gruffness. Now they can tease each other without consequence, talk over their feelings (although that was still a work in progress) and be in each other’s hold. And he didn’t know if Thorfinn felt it, but it was almost like they shared a bond…a connection that goes beyond words. One that Canute found trouble putting into words.

Before he knew it, they had managed to get this close. Something he never thought could happen.

Even though they were closer now, and Thorfinn was telling him things he didn’t know about him tonight, there were still things they didn’t know about each other that Canute so desperately wished to know. Simple things; like their favorite foods, their hobbies, what color they like.

Does Thorfinn like sweets as much as he does? Does he like the color blue? Canute likes the way royal blue looks on Thorfinn, it makes him look dashing. He likes how Thorfinn’s hair looks when it’s brushed the way it is tonight. He also likes the color of Thorfinn’s eyes in the light- okay, wait he’s getting off track. Canute blushed brightly, he hoped the other seriously wasn’t looking at him.

A quick glance and he saw that the others eyes were still staring at the sky. Canute softly exhaled a sigh of relief and looked in the same direction.

He guessed the little details didn’t matter now. He’s here in the snow with his guard and he’s happy.

He watched the snow again. Seeing it cascade so slowly reminded him of something.

A memory from back then, when they were camping the night before winter began, replayed in his mind. A callback to when the autumn leaves were beginning to lose their color and the air growing colder as Askeladd’s crew marched on. People were alive and not planning mutiny yet, and he and Thorfinn had just got into their third bickering match that day. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he was specifically thinking about that time.

He remembers how exhausted everyone was. Traversing through Wales and their treacherous mountains was enough to make any man winded. And Canute considered himself lucky enough to be riding in a wagon. He considered himself lucky to even be alive.

He remembered when the first bits of snow fell, their pure white standing out across the bleak grey skies that surrounded them. He held out his hand and whispered to no one in particular that it was snowing. And he remembers how agitated Ragnar became and went to complain to Askeladd about it.

He was so enamored by the snow that he forgot he was in public and was possibly being watched by others. He felt shame at that time and quickly retracted his hand away from the snowfall, glancing around to see if anyone had caught his expression.

But then he saw Thorfinn.

For a split second, Thorfinn was looking up at the sky with the such wonder that it caught Canute off guard. The others amber eyes had lit up, and they both watched as the white snow gently fell. It began to slowly scatter across the wild mountainous terrains like paint thrown on a canvas.

Thorfinn’s expression, his eyes, for that brief second, they weren’t full of disdain or boredom or whatever expression the Prince saw on his face in his daily life. He looked calm and rueful, his expression distantly thinking of something from the past.

Canute wanted to reach out and swipe the snow that was gathering on the others hair. He wanted the other to keep looking at the world in amazement like he just did. That look looks good on Thorfinn.

That was probably the first time he realized… that he discovered..

The Prince Canute of that time didn’t speak much. He could barely utter a noise from how terrified of the world he was. How scared he was of everyone. He would shed silent tears and pray with his teacher Wilibald about mercy for others. He would let the thoughts in his head swallow him whole and his fears choke him until he submitted. He wanted to run away.

Until he was challenged by that frustrating, stubborn, brave warrior. Who was just as lost as he was. Someone who he didn’t mind running away with now.

Two lost angels discovering salvation. Under the constellations and the white descend.

He won’t hold back again. Nothing should hold him back from speaking his mind.

So Canute broke the silence and said the first thing on his mind, “I like to read.”

“..huh?”

“You just asked me if I like to do anything for myself. I like to read. I like collecting books from around the world. Documents and novels, poems and lyrics, some even written in languages I can’t decipher.”

“…I thought you liked to cook.”

“Yes, I like that too, but it’s not something I did for myself. I did it more with Ragnar and at one point, I did it for my father.” Canute bit his lip, feeling bitterness at the memory. He breathed in deep and exhaled to calm down, continuing, “usually I’m so busy all the time, and I rarely get time to think to myself in leisure. But collecting books and reading them lets me escape, it lets learn about the world in another form. The Bible alone not only has great teachings, but amazing stories that rival even the craziest of plays. Sagas and mythologies alone are an adventure to dive into. I don’t know it’s just…whenever I read, the world around me just goes kinda quiet.”

Canute realized he was rambling and looked to his guard in worry, thinking he was boring the man to death. Instead, he found Thorfinn remained quiet, and was looking at him in interest.

He knew the blood was rushing to his cheeks. Thorfinn always listened to him, regardless of what he said. He’ll always like that about him. It felt nice to have someone listen.

“And what about you, Thorfinn? What do you do for yourself?”

Thorfinn opened his mouth to answer, but found himself unable to say anything.

What could he say?

There wasn’t anything to say. He really didn’t…do anything for himself. Not in the way Canute was referring to anyway. He considered coming up with something on the spot, something lame like- like walking around the markets and seeing the goods from other countries. Was that too boring? Would Canute even care if it was something stupid like that?

He didn’t want to do anything for himself anyway. He had one goal. And that goal was all that mattered to him.

“I don’t care about that stuff. I only have one thing in mind and that’s it. The rest of that? I’ll deal with later.” Thorfinn grumbled with a blunt tone.

Canute knew what he was referring to, and for whatever reason his heart kind of sank in his chest. “…Surely, it can’t just be about revenge right? There must have been something you wanted to do for yourself when you were a kid that you carry with you today. Don’t you have a hobby or a dream that you wanted to do?”

“Can’t say.” Thorfinn gruffly reply back.

“Really? Nothing comes to mind? You never wanted to explore the world, or live on your own farm, or start something?” Canute pressed on, now looking entirely at Thorfinn who refused to look at him now.

“And what if I do or don’t? It doesn’t matter.”

Ok, now he was just being stubborn. Irritation was irking in Canute’s head as he said, “It does matter, Thorfinn!”

“Why are we even talking about this? Who cares.”

“You’re the one that brought it up in the first place, Mr. ‘I don’t do anything for myself’”

“Oh stop barking, you know what I meant.”

“I’m not barking! But I’m saying it’s important!”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me clearly yesterday, or you haven’t been looking at the past months we’ve been together in clarity.” Thorfinn turned his head towards the Prince, his sharp gaze now as cold and biting as the snow beneath them.

“I do not care about anything else other than making sure Askeladd is gone. I will defeat Askeladd in a duel, and I will protect my fathers honor.”

“…”

“That is something I am doing for me. So, sorry if I’m being rude Princess, but that is where we differ. I’ve been doing things for myself for as long as I can remember.”

Canute was completely quiet. Thorfinn was glaring at him, and he caught it for a brief moment in the others eyes. It wasn’t pity or disgust; there was an ache in those blue eyes that didn’t fit at all. The guard held his breath and looked back up. He wanted to ignore that look as much as he could.

“I know we are different people Thorfinn. But…just because you’ve been brought up in violence doesn’t mean you can’t change what you do for yourself. It’s honorable, your goal. I’ve never had something like that...That’s why I’m doing this for me now.” Canute said, his tone soft yet firm, like he was comforting a stricken animal. Thorfinn wanted to scoot away, his body reaction towards being treated that way. Canute must’ve sensed this and changed his tone to something more neutral.

“Ever since the day Thorkell joined our side, I have decided that I will no longer watch others suffer for nothing. I will create a paradise on Earth for those who do not know where to go. For those who fight for the sake of fighting, the ones that cannot find the beauty in this world given to us. A utopia for those who suffer.” Canute spoke with resolution and he gripped his hands tightly. 

“Even I have doubts of this path. But I can’t doubt myself when I know this is the path I must take.”

Thorfinn was reminded of his thoughts the night before. “…you know you don’t have to become someone who destroys just to achieve that goal.”

“Then how else can I achieve it?”

He knew this question would be asked. But Thorfinn, no matter how hard he tried to think or tried to imagine with the thinnest veil of enthusiasm, he had no solutions. “I’m not sure.” He replied after some time, ignoring the sadness he felt after saying it.

“I don’t want to destroy either.” Canute said, his voice going quiet again. “I hate wars. I hate violence. But it coexists together with peace.”

Thorfinn raised an eyebrow and glanced at the Prince, “Then why appoint Askeladd as your advisor? No offense but you chose the worst person to advocate for peace.”

Canute blinked. “He’s the only person that I know that’ll actually accomplish what he sets out to do. He already got us this far.”

Thorfinn felt irritated at the sound of that. His lips turned to a frown as he glared at the sky to Canute again. “Tch. You want to create paradise for others so bad? Choose anyone, even the last man on Earth, over him.”

“Building a paradise on Earth means defying His logic and including every violent Viking we come across. Only I can lead these violent men into paradise. And I need strength and power to rebel." Canute furrowed his brow, looking away from the others cold stare. He couldn’t read Thorfinn’s expression but maybe Thorfinn was trying to understand what he’s saying. He stared back at the sky that has now been shrouded in dark overcast.

The Prince smiled sadly, and spoke in honest, “Every though I’m actively working towards it…even I wonder, if such a place of paradise can exist.”

The words rang a bell in Thorfinn’s memory. He’s brought back to cold blizzard when he spoke to that female slave, and to the Nothern Lights above him with his family by his side. If paradise can exist…

“…Somewhere, far to the west, there is a place. It is warm and fertile, and far from slave traders and the tides of war. There you will be able to live without pain.” Thorfinn was forgetting some of the words, but he couldn’t think properly with how loud his heart was beating. He could feel his pulse thudding in his throat and the buildup of trepidation on his tongue.

He can’t believe he’s saying this to Canute.

“….far to the west, huh?” the blonde said thoughtfully, mulling over the rare words spoken just now.

Thorfinn shrugged, swallowing the feeling that was building up in his throat at what he said. “Somewhere that’s not here.” He said a little weakly.

“I would like to find a place like that. But this is where I remain to make paradise.” Canute said gently, looking at Thorfinn fully. “…maybe you can find that place far west, and tell me about it someday.”

“…”

The two faced each other, seeing eye to eye. Seeing each other for the first time. And Canute loves the color of Thorfinn’s eyes and how clear they become when they’re not clouded by anger. He’s never felt more comfortable lying in the snow like this, under another’s gaze.

He’s read about moments like this in various books, plays, and songs. He’s never really understood this specific feeling until now. He’s so glad that they can talk to each other like this, and understand each other despite everything. Their bond, the admiration that goes beyond words. Nothing will ever stop him from loving the other.

Oh. That’s right.

He’s in love.

Canute is in love with his guard.

And he’s been in love way before tonight. He spent countless hours, tossing and turning over his crush that blossomed into more than just infatuation. He spent countless days subtly confessing to Father Wilibald and Ragnar, and countless minutes thinking he was crazy. Crazy for having his rude guard run circles around his mind and imagine courting him, dating him, being with him-

But no, he’s learned to accept that he’s in love with Thorfinn. That moment the snow fell…or was it before then? When they first fought? When the other comforted him after Ragnar’s death?

The when didn’t matter to him. Forever felt like tonight. Wasting the night away with him. He’s so glad to have met him, and that they survived this long. He made him feel alive.

He wants to show this beautiful warrior in front of him that he deserves love and care just as much as any other person.

He wants to show him the path that love and care can bring.

An admiration that goes beyond words. No it wasn’t just that. Canute fell for Thorfinn the moment he swept into the fire to save him, and he’s been falling deeper since. He found love here. Right where they are.

He wants Thorfinn to know.

He’s thought about how to word this for a while. But every time, he came to the conclusion that it sounds like he’s professing his love to Thorfinn. And that thought alone makes him want to jump in a frozen lake.

But he said he won’t hold back! He’s a new person. He’s even reached the point where he stopped thinking about the outcome and he just wants to get it out already.

He can’t keep holding his emotions back.

“Thorfinn, I-…I wanted to say something to you last night.” Canute started, hearing his own voice stutter. He could feel his cheeks turn red against his own will. 

Don’t hold back, speak your mind!

“I admire you. I’ve always admired you. I- I’ve want to thank you for everything you’ve done, especially tonight. I can’t see myself being alone in my creation of paradise on Earth. I need you by my side.”

Thorfinn blinked, a confused expression on his adorable face. “Canute-“

His hands were beginning to shake again. He closed them into fists to stop. He didn’t know how to go about this or what to say next. 

“Thorfinn, I-…will you…how can I put this?”

The Prince’s heart was pounding in his ears again. In a daring moment, he reached his hands out and held his guards cheeks in his palms. The others eyes widened, frozen in place as his expression His face was warm, almost burning with how red it was becoming.

“I think I’m in lo-“

The sound of a twig nearby snapped.

Thorfinn tensed up and looked to the source of the sound. They were being watched.

He could hear footsteps that were rapidly running towards them and stopping. It seemed to be just one person, and in the dark layout of the training grounds he couldn’t tell who it was.

He pushed himself off the ground and pulled out his dagger, causing Canute’s eyes to widen. “What is it?” He asked quietly, getting up from the floor.

“Someone’s been watching us.” Thorfinn growled, eyes darting around to find the person. There was something in the air, something he was familiar with after years on the battlefield.

Canute wasn’t safe here.

“Go back inside. I’ll take care of this person myself” Thorfinn ordered.

Canute wasn’t having any of it. “No, walk back with me. I-“

“The door is right there, you’ll be fine. I’ll run off so that the person will be following me instead of you”

“Thorfinn, wait. Don’t leave yet.”

He could still feel the words he wanted to say, the words he held back on the tip of his tongue again. He could say it right there and now. But there was no time to say anything. This person was going to attack.

“Go, Princess.”

Thorfinn jumped away from Canute with a great leap, towards the backside of the training grounds and through the servants halls. He could then hear the unmistakable footsteps of someone in the shadows running to chase Thorfinn. The sound of running soon faded, and all that was left was the distant sound of Vienna Blood playing and chatter from the party.

Canute was overwrought with emotions.

He wanted to yell out, scream even and exhaust his tears until they were no more. He wanted to leap at the stars and shake the sky until all the snow had fallen out, until the stars could fall with it from the force and plummet into the Earth below. Until their lights flickered out the way his voice just did.

He felt as though he had also just missed something that Thorfinn was going to say. The man left too soon, bringing his thoughts with him. Would he be able to ask him anytime soon?

Will he even see Thorfinn again?

Canute tongue felt heavy, his heart sinking, and his mind cluttered with Thorfinn’s name, echoing in his head over and over. And it won’t stop until he sees him again.

He wanted to run after him.

But he did none of that.

He simply breathed in and out, watching the darkness as his breath formed puffs of smoke in the air. He knew his guard would be fine. It was his job to protect him after all.

With that, he allowed himself to calm down and regather himself. With steel blue eyes and a heavy heart, he walked away from the fallen stars and back into the ball.

Chapter Text

The sound of running echoed through the darkness.

Thorfinn ran through the outer parts of castle buildings, making sure he was far enough from the party.

He purposely ran through the unlit areas, avoiding potential guard lookouts and other places where people were. The darkness was illuminated by the moonlight, creating a bright light on the white snow piles. He could hear the perpetrator not too far behind him, following his every move.

He had to find an area where no one would interfere.

The attacker behind him was gaining speed. Footsteps became louder and the sound of metal being unsheathed rang out in the dark.

Thorfinn grit his teeth and unsheathed his fathers dagger, stopping his running to slide against the icy ground in momentum, creating a far distance between them. As he unsheathed the other dagger, he got into his fighting position and waited.

They seemed to have stopped near the eastern exit gates, no castle guard or servant in sight. Only the torches at the top of the gates were their source of light, which was all Thorfinn needed.

He saw the attacker running towards him, face blurred and sword ready. The man wore a helmet, covering his entire face and a dark cloak to conceal his overall figure. All signs of a hired assassin that was aiming for the death of the Prince and his vassals tonight.

Thorfinn kept still, eyes narrowed as he remained in his position, letting the other come closer. His breathing steady, his eyes clear, and head calm.

The man roared a battle cry and jumped, his sword ready to swing down. Thorfinn quickly moved to the left and aimed for the fingers on the sword’s hilt.

In an instant, blood splattered all over the white snow like strawberries in the summer. The battle cry turned into a pain scream that echoed across the walls.

The attacker fell to the snow, screeching in agony as he dropped his sword and held his injured hand in a lame attempt to stop the bleeding. Thorfinn only watched as the other cried out, dark figure shaking in tremors at the pain.

The blonde tched and casually flicked the red off his fathers dagger, a crescent shape of blood painting the snow. The screaming was never easier to get used to, but this time around it was annoying in his ears. The bastard made him do all that extra work and run. All this political turmoil and for what? It’s so unbelievably stupid.

“I assume you won’t talk” Thorfinn said, walking closer to the man that continued to groan. He kept a considerable distance, noticing as he approached the other began to attempt to mute their yelling.

When the blonde stopped walking, the sounds were low. The attacker growled, hand now in his cloak. Thorfinn’s eyes widened as he realized what’s happening-

The man pulled out a loaded crossbow and aimed at the warrior, immediately shooting an arrow point directly. The sound of the trigger being pulled and the whiz of an arrow soared through the air. Thorfinn reacted, managing to dodge in time as he jumped to the far right, hitting the walls to stop the force.

Thorfinn quickly recovered and did a quick glance at his body. He wasn’t hit, thankfully, but his bandaged arm sleeve had a tear in it. Are you kidding me, he thought bitterly. And this was a new outfit too.

The blonde glared at the assassin and decided he’s seen enough. He ran towards the other and in a quick motion, ended the attackers life.

A silence hung heavily in the air.

Normally, Thorfinn felt little to no empathy when it came to the killings, becoming desensitized over the years. But there was so much red on the white snow that it became uncanny to him. It shouldn’t be, he usually detached himself from his thoughts after doing this. Yet the red almost made him want to gag this time.

Weird….Bah, must be the past two days catching up with him or something.

Thorfinn stood up, using the snow to clean the blood off the metal before putting his daggers back in their sheaths. A glimmer of light shined in his peripheral, and he glanced down at the man he just took care of. The guy was expressionless, eyes wide behind the helmet. He wore a green vest underneath the black cape.

Thorfinn saw underneath the cape was an emblem, some type of symbol that signified this guy was part of something. He didn’t recognize what the symbol represented. Was this guy part of an English army or something?

Odd, as he’s pretty sure he’s seen almost every insignia on the battlefield. Unable to recognize one raised suspicion within him. He’d have to report this to Askeladd, which irked him enough that he had to cooperate with that asshole.

Oh well, the assassin was taken care of. He had to return to Princess and make sure he’s okay.

Thorfinn sighed, tearing his stare away from the body and looked the other way. He slowly began walking back the way he came, the sound of his snow crunching footsteps filling the quiet.

The warrior took his time walking back to the ball, as it was not only on the opposite side of the castle. But he had time to mull over his thoughts.

He couldn’t get over how weirded out he felt towards killing that assassin. There was a thought itching in the back of his mind, and he couldn’t for the life of him acknowledge what it was saying.

Maybe it really is the past two days getting to him. Or maybe the past month. Or probably the way he let his guard down around Canute tonight.

That clicked in his mind. It makes sense. He finally sheds a little emotion and now he’s feeling different about murdering assassins. Ugh. He’s definitely going to complain to Canute and the others about this.

He continued to walk forward in the now knee high snow lost in thought. He stopped when he noticed his legs were getting cold and he clicked his tongue in annoyance, wondering how the snow piled so fast. Thorfinn then glanced to his side and saw the blatant stone walkway next to him, clear of any ice or white. He rolled his eyes and hopped onto the walkway. Where the fuck was his mind tonight? He was just going to say something about Canute too and he lost that thought.

That’s right, he was going to say something to Canute earlier. What was it that he was going to say? And Canute was saying something to him before he got into defense mode.

Thorfinn slowed down his pace. Wait, Canute was going to say something to him before he left. The way their conversation was going, the Prince was actually stuttering again when he said he had something important to say. That hasn’t happened in a long while. And the Prince kept blushing and getting redder as he talked. Was he- was it going to be-

He’s an idiot if he thinks the Prince of Denmark was going to confess his love to him.

… Was Canute going to confess to him?

Ha! As if.

As if…

“I can’t see myself being alone in my creation of paradise on Earth. I need you by my side.”

Wait-

“I admire you.”

Oh shit.

Thorfinn had fully stopped walking at this point, realization blooming over him. It’s like the snow from earlier froze his legs and he couldn’t move. He stood in his spot, the snow that was falling gently earlier now stopping with him.

Canute was actually going to- no way.

Wait, he’s never actually received a love confession or had his romantic love declared in front of him. He has an inkling of an idea of what it’s supposed to look and sound like.

And he’s pretty sure that the Prince blushing and grabbing his face in his hands is a sign.

Thorfinn could feel his cheeks going red. He reached a hand to his face, distantly reminded of how warm and gentle Canute’s touch was on him. That damn touch is so fucking distracting, he can’t even think.

What the fuck was he supposed to do with this information?

He only stayed near the Prince because he was ordered to. He only did what the Prince asked because he was ordered to. Otherwise he would never get to duel Askeladd and fulfill his revenge. Since when did he ever come to the conclusion of protecting the Prince because he actually cared if the other got hurt?

…Ok, as much as he doesn’t like to admit it, he’s always cared. Slightly. But he’s never cared this much. He hasn’t cared for someone like this in a long time. He’s never given himself the luxury to, he’s refused to let himself care.

It hurts less in the long run.

He bit his lip which had turned cold from the weather. Life would be so much easier if he just forgot his emotions and focused on getting his revenge. He wouldn’t have to process his feelings like this, he wouldn’t have to fight the fact that he did listen to what Askeladd and Bjorn say to him, he wouldn’t have to fight how he felt whenever Canute touched him, and he wouldn’t have to fight himself over his fucking guilt.

The guilt that plagued him, the pride that sat with him, and the anger that swirled around him, uncomfortably suffocating his senses.

Yet with Canute all that seemed to fade away. For small moments, his mind realized he was focusing on other things.

Bit by bit, ever so slowly, he began to realize. He was going to Canute because he felt comftorable around him. Secure enough to rely on his unnecessary kindness and to feel…human again.

Does this mean he likes Canute back? Does this mean he’s in lov-

No way. It’s not true. It can’t be. This has to be a joke or some type of ploy to make him laugh and lose focus.

Being a bodyguard was one thing, and being acquainted was another. Or allies or whatever the fuck their relationship was. He was simply doing his job. He’s built this weird but obvious sense of trust around the Prince. But love? That was a whole new level of intimacy and vulnerability that Thorfinn couldn’t begin to fathom.

He remembers what love looks like. His parents, even though he didn’t spend a lot of time with them, showed him what a loving  relationship looks like. His elder sister affirmed it despite not being in a relationship herself, and hell, he’s heard stories from old man Leif. And for fucks sake, Askeladd and Bjorn were a shit example, but an example nonetheless.

So he’s seen it before. He has an idea of what it is. But he has never, never given himself to someone like this. It was never convenient or necessary, more like a waste of time to just think about shit like this. Thinking about this is confusing and it hurts.

How can even he love someone without getting hurt? Or hurting the other?

He didn’t ask to be in love. He didn’t ask for his heart to beat so fast that it’s about to burst out of his chest. He didn’t ask for his face to get red like this. He didn’t ask for these emotions, these confusing feelings, he just wants to get revenge and that’s it- that’s all he wants- that’s final-

But his thoughts always go back to Canute. He calms him down. He makes him feel equal. He makes him remember that there’s more to life than revenge. Canute was put on this earth trying to show him what his heart and soul was worth.

Fuck.

Suddenly, it felt like his whole world has shifted. Thorfinn looked up and noticed the torches fire burned a brighter shade of orange in the dark. The snow around him seemed to glisten brightly from the light. Even the moon looked bigger, almost like it was coming to the Earth at rapid speed.

Thorfinn felt absolutely terrified.

Where he thought his lungs would stutter, he found himself breathing fine. His heart was thudding extremely loud, to the point where he was sure if he put his hand over his heart that it would penetrate through the clothing. He just knew his face was painted a deep shade of red and he put his hands on his cheeks in an effort to stop.

Oh gods, how is he going to face Canute now?!

How can someone love him?

He thought back on the Prince’s words. His kindness, his gentle touches, and the way those blue eyes looked at him with genuine happiness.

What was Canute going to say? He had to know. The side entrance doors to the party were in view and he began to speed walk his way there. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he felt…excited? Excited to see Canute again.

He blushed the entire way he walked to the ball, his pace hurrying with every step.

He’s excited to see the Prince that has enchanted him once more.

Thorfinn entered through the doors and went back to the party,

only to see Canute dancing with another man.

The first thing Thorfinn comprehended was confusion. The second thing was the equivalent of hearing glass crack and then shatter from force, like all the pieces were falling around him.

‘ This is the first time in years that I’ve danced with someone at the ball willingly ’ he remembers Canute saying.

What a fucking lie.

Ok well, think rationally, he heard a voice say in the back of his mind. He must have taken too long to get back. And Canute was probably dancing with this man because he was told to by Askeladd or Sweyn. He could wait for their dance to be over, and he and Canute could reconnect. Canute can say what he was going to say outside, he can get this feeling off his chest and they can- well- he can acknowledge his feelings to the other. He can finally have the emotions he felt earlier with the Prince-

Then the man who was leading Canute spun the royal out and kissed his hand mid dance. The audience gasped in delight, and Thorfinn’s rational thoughts immediately melted into the floor like burning liquid steel.

He could only stand there, amber eyes wide in shock as the others moved in front of him.

Surely, Canute was only putting on a facade right? He is the Prince after all, and he’s got duties to obligate.

“Eventually I refused any request to dance when asked…until now”

Another bullshit fucking lie.

The orchestra played a loud waltzing song that only took place with minor notes, reminding Thorfinn of a marching melody in battle. Thorfinn stuck to the walls, passing the crowd without notice. The whispering conversations of the guests were relentless.

“Lord Erik is so handsome!”

“He’s just as good looking as Canute’s previous partner, but he has all the land and the accolades!”

“Who even was that guy last time? Thorfinn, son of Thors?”

“Thorfinn is the one who defeated Thorkell the Tall with only two daggers! And Thors, the troll of Jom?! He’s a legendary Jomsviking warrior!”

“No way!”

“Hmm, well that Thorfinn guy comes from good means. But between the two, Lord Erik is seems like the perfect candidate for the Prince instead!”

That comment caught his attention, splashing all over him like a bucket of cold water. There was a realization building up in him, a distant memory of last night’s grievances that he desperately shoved to the side coming back to mind.

Thorfinn looked at Canute. The Prince himself looked absolutely regal, basked in a light that followed his steps like he was a goddess shining down on all, sent from above. Canute’s face remained impartial as he continued to be led by Erik, who all but smiled from ear to ear. He and Erik flowed together perfectly, as smooth as ice gliding off each other. Not a mistake or signs of awkwardness was shown between them. Almost as if they were meant for this.

The warrior watched as Erik said something to the Prince as they did an underturn. Whatever he said got Canute to finally break a smile. And then Erik proceeded to dip the Prince with such grace that the crowd reacted positively, exclaiming their impressions.

And Thorfinn felt sick.

He tore his eyes away from them to look down at his shoes, which were now covered in mud at the bottom from all the sliding he did earlier. He glanced at his trousers which were visibly dampened at the legs from the knee high snow he was in. Then he saw his ripped sleeve on his fancy cloak with his bandaged arm.

Those types of details never mattered to him. But he suddenly felt very improper around these shitty talkative nobles. Embarrassingly and visibly so. He wasn’t presentable to stand next to the Prince. Like an eyesore.

After all the bullshit he went through to look nice too.

He walked over to Askeladd, who was watching the Prince dance with a neutral look on his face. Bjorn was leaning against the wall next to his commander, eyes fully on Thorfinn with an unreadable expression. The ashen blonde glanced at the younger approach him, eyebrow raised at the smaller man’s dour looks.

Thorfinn muttered lowly in the others ear, “The assassin has been taken care of near the East gates. He has an unknown symbol on his chest.”

The crowd cheered again in joy as Canute spun gracefully across the floor before falling deep into another dip. Thorfinn found it difficult to even swallow, looking at the polished floor and its golden stripes beneath him. “The threat is gone.” He finalized, faintly realizing how tightly he was gripping his cloak. He unclenched his fists from the fabrics.

“…Are you sure about that? Seems to me that his Highness is being taken by someone else” Askeladd said facetiously, his brow still raised as he watched Canute, whose smile wasn’t reaching his eyes.

Thorfinn narrowed his eyes at the floor and grit in response, “Tch. I don’t care.”

“You’re not going to go after him?” Bjorn asked. The young warrior snapped his head at the second in command, ready to tell him off but stopped. Bjorn’s gaze went straight through him, his expression only inquisitive. There wasn’t any judgement or negative connotation behind it, he posed it as just a genuine question. One that the warrior couldn’t answer.

Thorfinn remained silent, even as Bjorn raised his brows in surprise. Something was building in his throat, clawing at his vocal cords, making him unable to speak. His chest felt like it was sinking and he couldn’t stop staring at Canute dancing with Erik, and just feel that something was wrong. He doesn’t even feel angry. It’s like he’s drowning in the ocean and the rough waves are keeping him under, making him unable to breathe.

He’ll do what he always does. He’ll put his emotions in the back of his head and, as idly as he can, detach himself him from the world.

“Just make sure that Erik guy pulls nothing.” Thorfinn breathed out hoarsely, and walked off without looking at them.

He couldn’t look at anyone.

The crowds had suddenly lost their color and the room became a threatening yellow. The white roses and blue delphiniums lost its vigor with the stench of alcohol intoxicating the air. The talking and music swirled together into an unrecognizable buzzing noise. He stayed to the walls, breathing heavily as his eyes landed on the grand stairs and the exit doors. He faintly heard his name being called out, whether by Askeladd or maybe even Thorkell.

But he couldn’t be in this room anymore. If he looked anywhere else, he would be faced with the lies his Highness fed him in the world of snow. The floor would collapse underneath him. And he couldn’t bear it.

The song they were dancing to had come to an end and applause filled the room. The next song began which distinctly heard the notes of a sad clarinet while the rest was drowned out with buzzing. Thorfinn exited the way he entered, out the grand stairs and through the large entry doors. As soon as he passed through the entry, he began to just run. Run down the corridors and many guards, just run away from the overwhelming grandeur of the castle.

Fuck, he thinks as he exits out the halls and saw the main castle gates in the distance. His eyes were beginning to sting against his will. He decided it was enough.

All that talk in the snow, that connection they just had, whatever Canute was going to say to him; He felt as though all of it got ripped to shreds somehow and he can’t figure out why.

Why why why was he feeling this way? It was pitiful, unnecessary, absolutely disgusting that he was acting like this- He could ignore it like he usually does. He could ignore what feelings he has left and kill any remainder that stays besides anger. The same way he’s grown numb to every kill he’s done, every individual he barely met, every soul that he’s torn apart. Why can’t he just ignore this?

He thought he could vacate his chest and tear out his heart and throw it far. Just work towards his goal. Towards his goal. Fucking work towards his fucking goal of restoring his father’s honor.

But he can’t fucking help it.

Tonight was the night he realized he was in love with the Prince for the first time. And he was fucking stupid for thinking it would work with someone like him .

Of course he’s fucking stupid. After all, how could the Prince fall in love with someone like him anyway?

Thorfinn heard shouts behind him, his name echoing from afar which caused him to rush faster. He blindly ran into the trunk of a tree near the gates entrance, stumbling for a second before recovering and continuing. Fuck orders, fuck whatever deals he made beforehand, and fuck whoever was calling him. This is his reminder.

He’ll never open his heart to anyone again.

He exited the castle gates and didn’t look back.

Canute, who was running after him the whole time, was a second too late. The Prince’s expression was filled with heartbreak, watching in vain as Thorfinn’s figure disappeared into the night once again. No, he couldn’t let his love, his discrimination, his guard escape him again. Not like this.

“THORFINN!”He screamed out his warrior’s name, his voice cracking from the amount of yelling he was doing. He stopped his running in front of the gates like it was a barrier, continuing to watch the darkness as his voice got caught in his throat, wheezes coming out in short breaths. Askeladd and Gunnar were right behind him, watching the scene unfold.

“Your Highness?! What’s gotten into you?” Gunnar cried out, panting heavily as he stopped behind the Prince. The conehead man put his hands on his knees and continued to pant from exhaustion. “How dare! That feral animal called a guard hah run off like that! Leaving his Highness behind!”

Askeladd watched the scene with wide eyes, looking at where Thorfinn was last seen to the Prince whose shoulders were trembling harshly. The royal refused to turn around, the advisor noting how tightly the younger’s hands were gripping the red cloak to the point where he saw a darker shade of red stain the fabric.

The older blonde groaned, rubbing the back of his head in exasperation. What a fucking situation he found himself in. He knew there’d be a lot happening the second they get back to the ball. But right now? This was groundbreaking revelations happening in real time.

“For crying out loud” Askeladd murmured flippantly to himself, putting his hand down and walking to the Prince’s side. “Don’t mind him, your Highness. He just needs to clear his head.” He explained, already having a feeling what Thorfinn was up to. Damn kid always acting on impulse and emotions. He’s sure he would be fine, he’d be too stubborn to run away completely. Askeladd could guarantee that for sure. “Come on, we need to go back to the ball.”

“But…but I-“ Canute whispered, his voice tight and not going unnoticed by the older blonde. “I didn’t get to finish my…”

“You’ll have time for it later. Thorfinn will be fine” Askeladd interrupted, his tone uncharacteristically gentle yet firm as he took Canute by the shoulders. Canute let himself be guided, taking a step back from the spot he was rooted in. “Come on, you need to save face with Erik at the ball. Otherwise, his Majesty will think something is up.”

Canute exhaled shakily, finally looking at his retainer with the wide, glossy eyes. Askeladd could see it; the devastation and anguish in the young Prince. The younger wanted to run off and find the warrior. But his efforts would prove futile. He met Canute’s eyes with an icy stare and gave him a look that told him otherwise.

The smaller blonde exhaled again, biting his lip in the process and blinked rapidly, as if trying to erase the pain in his eyes away. After a moment, he closed his eyes and simply accepted. The royal nodded slowly, his expression becoming neutral, not saying another word as the three men turned back and slowly began walking back to the party.

Canute felt like he was falling apart.

The Prince’s heart was filled with grief. He knew he was gritting his teeth and his palms must have cuts from his nails. But he couldn’t feel anything, as the pain in his chest was so great that he couldn’t breathe. Was this the romantic heartbreak the books he read were describing? Was this what it felt like?

Why did Thorfinn run out of the ball? Was it something that happened during the attack? Was it something said at the ball?

Or did he run because…he was scared that Canute was going to confess to him, and he couldn’t take it?

“No please don’t-” he thought to himself trying in vain efforts to calm his mind. He took a sharp intake of cold air. He could accept any other reason but..but that.

Canute found it hard to breathe. He continued to blink himself out of a thousand yard stare, trying to bring himself back to reality. No matter how soul crushing it may be. He had to regain his facade and continue the show.

As Canute solemnly walked back to the inner buildings, a flicker of light caught his eye. He looked towards the light and saw a gold object shining in the white snow near the tree trunk at the entrance. He walked over and picked it up, noticing he recognized it the object.

Askeladd and Gunnar joined him, curiously looking at what the Prince was holding. “What is it, your Highness?” Gunnar asked puzzled.

Askeladd blinked in surprise and only said “oh.” Canute exhaled again and his breath came out in a quiet wheeze. His heart sank again.

It was a brooch in the shape of Vesvigir.

Chapter Text

When Thorfinn opened his eyes, he was staring directly at a blue sky with passing clouds. And a sense of peace passed through him.

He sat up, taking in his surroundings. The weather was so nice, the soft wind and warmth surrounding him. It must’ve been spring already as there wasn’t a pile of snow in sight. Instead, there were endlessly open fields of greenery, and some plots of wheat in the distance.

A lamb walked right up to him, head butting him as he blinked in surprise. He pet the lamb ever so gently, feeling peace wash over him for the first time in years.

A voice called out his name.

In the distance, he could see a tall broad figure waving at him, unable to make out who it was because they were shadowed in darkness. But Thorfinn wanted to go to them. He wanted to ask that figure some questions.

Questions he needed answered.

As he stepped forward, he stopped at the sudden wetness on the ground.

Thorfinn looked down and saw the same white snow from last night, the assassin’s stricken face and emblem below his boot. The blood was slowly filling the white snow-

And he felt his heart drop.

Thorfinn gasped jolting awake, sitting up straight out of the hay he was sleeping in. No blue skies or grass fields.

Oh, right. He was in the stables near the castle.

He felt cold and damp, despite there being no snow around him. He glanced up at a horse who was looking down at him in curiousness. Said horse then proceeded to huff, like it was annoyed, and lift its head in another direction.

Thorfinn looked around, confused by his surroundings. What was that dream about? Why did it feel so real for a second? Better yet, why is he here-

His hand brushed onto his now stained white cloak, his eyes widening in surprise.

Oh yeah, that’s right. He was sleeping here because he didn’t go back to the castle last night. Or back to his chambers either. He couldn’t bring himself to with the chances of running into Canute again.

He felt…like a fool.

He felt like a fucking idiot.

He completely let his guard down for the first time in years last night. He let himself get swept away by the Prince and his charms, spilling his past life and secrets to him like he deserved to hear it.

He even told Canute the words his father and Leif once told him. He told him. Without hesitation. Words that he has never told anyone, words sacred to his heart.

He could feel his heart sink in his chest when he saw Canute dancing with another man. Willingly. He let himself be vulnerable to-

Thorfinn groaned and flopped back into the hay beneath him. He felt hurt and oh so confused.

A flash of the old lady from years ago appeared in his mind. He did a sharp intake of breath as the feeling of regret bloomed in his chest. She still appears in his thoughts, his ever waking nightmares, her stricken face filled with heartbreak as she watched him over the body of a bloody man.

He can’t help but feel like this was…what was that word he heard the priest use? Karma. The lies he was told last night, the grief he felt, that’s exactly what that lady felt when she saw him.

He could feel his eyes gloss over as he thought about it. Last night he kept asking why why why.

But now he gets it.

He became used to sticking by Canute’s side and got used to his kindness. His friendship, companionship, whatever the fuck they had. And Canute was so nice last night, it felt like they connected.

He loved him.

He was going to say something to him.

But then he saw the Prince betraying his story and dancing with another. The crowd even acknowledged that that Erik person was a better match for Canute.

That Erik guy is perfect for the Prince.

If that’s who Canute actually wants by his side, then fine.

He can deal with it.

But he doesn’t want it.

He’s so fucked, huh?

Thorfinn groaned, the animals around ignoring his troubles. He knew he had to go back. He really truly didn’t want to, but he needed to change or something.

As he got up, he began dusting the strays off his cloak, hissing when he felt a pain in his tender arm. He wasn’t wearing a proper cast so he’d have to be more careful, since he got lucky last night. He was still wearing his nicely made clothes from the ball. He looked down at himself and lightly clicked his tongue at the condition it was in. Even if he didn’t care about his appearance, the clothes were still nice.

He adjusted his clothes into place and raked his hair straight. As he was about to walk out, he noticed something was off with his outfit.

The brooch of Vesvigir was missing.

The castle was in high commotion.

Last night, one of Thorkell’s men had found a corpse in the opposite side of the castle. After the the vessels and guards studied and identified the body, they found the person held an insignia that was part of the Lade and Northumbria army.

Specifically, it was a symbol related directly to Lord Erik of Norway’s personal army guard.

Askeladd and Canute were able to confirm there was an attempted attack from the person last night. Erik was immediately arrested for treason the following morning. Word quickly spread from the servants and maids to outside the castle walls.

Everyone from nobles to the townspeople alike were talking amongst themselves, gossiping at every corner from the Prince’s attitude last night to the attempted assassination. Those at the party knew Prince Canute danced with Sir Erik last night. Nobody could’ve predicted he would try to do something against the Prince.

Askeladd had already predicted the outcome of this. He didn’t even have to spin the story to point fingers. It had Sweyn written all over it.

However, his Highness seemed to care less about the betrayal.

In fact, what he was doing now was far more crazier than others would’ve guessed.

“We’ve looked everywhere, your Highness. But your guard Thorfinn is no where to be found.” A random guard reported, his head low as Canute looked down at him.

“If you see him anywhere, tell him to come back to the castle immediately. It’s important.” Canute ordered, the guard saying his affirmatives before running out of the throne room. Sweyn wasn’t in the room with them, which was a blessing in disguise as he wouldn’t have to see his son like this.

As soon as the guard left, Canute shuddered a shaky sigh, putting his hand on his forehead. He looked absolutely wrecked despite the victory position he’s currently in. His skin was paler than usual while his blonde hair looked raked through instead of pristine.

Askeladd was watching everything with a raised eyebrow. Now this was far more interesting development. So interesting that he couldn’t help but feel a certain way towards the situation.

Thorfinn ran out the room, unable to argue back with him and Bjorn for the first time. Canute screamed his heart out, almost foiling their plans.

Stupid emotional teenagers are what they are. Askeladd could feel a vein nearly popping on his forehead from the ludicrousness of it all.

But that’s not why he feels a certain way.

Something about Canute’s…pathetic self at this very moment irked something in his soul. As if the kid had any right to be upset about this situation- a situation that could’ve been handled differently had these two not been so careless and idiotic.

Yet, the anger stems deeper than that. And Askeladd was too proud to acknowledge it, to even be aware of its existence. But that thought in the back of his skull remained. A sort of parental protection towards Thorfinn.

How exhausting.

“Did you say something to Thorfinn last night, your Highness?”

Canute side eyed Askeladd, his posture turning tense and rigid. Despite what the prince has been preaching about peace, there’s this underlying bubbling anger every time he sees the older man stare at him like that.

Like he’s less than, like he can’t do it. The look is so subtle, but this time it’s right there in the older blonde’s eyes. Which makes Canute angry. Something he already has enough of.

Anger for Thorfinn. Anger for Ragnar. Anger for the political situation they were in once more.

Maybe that’s why Askeladd was looking at him that way. He and Thorfinn almost screwed up the ever so secret plan because of emotional conflict. Perhaps, he couldn’t be upset about that.

He just hated the look that was being given right now.

“I’ll be honest. I’ve never seen Thorfinn act the way he has in the past two days, especially last night. He’s never ran away from my orders. He’d never do that at the risk of losing a duel with me.” Askeladd explained in a cold tone. Canute recognized it as the one he used during that time during the snow blizzard- when those villagers perished cruelly under the hands of his army.

“I didn’t do anything. It was his decision to leave the ball in the first place.” Canute answered back just as steely. The two stared at each other, not backing down.

The tension hung heavily in thon air that if someone were to walk in they’d suffocate from it.

Askeladd broke the silence first. “Like I said, he’d never do that knowing that the deal is off. If it wasn’t something you said, it was something you did.”

Canute’s grip tightened on the brooch in his hand, surely imprinting the pattern of Vesvigir into his skin. Askeladd did have a point after all. All his anger slowly extinguished as he stared at the gold in his hand.

Truth be told, Canute felt awful. His chest felt like someone took a shovel and poured nothing but heavy dirt onto him, making it hard to breathe.

He didn’t get to finish saying what he wanted to last night. And Thorfinn ran away from him because of it.

He must’ve scared Thorfinn off with his almost confession last night- that’s probably what it is.

Canute held Vesvigir in his hand, twirling the item around. He studied the intricate details and noted the points at each end of the symbol. He knew the meaning behind Vesvigir. It is the compass, the sign of direction. If you’re ever lost, this symbol will guide you on the right path. It’s meant for the explorers and for those searching.

His guiding compass was missing.

“Canute!”

Thorkell’s enraged voice boomed down the hall, startling those outside the room. Canute only blinked languidly as the giant stomped his way towards the Prince, slamming his hands down as he approached with ire in his eyes.

“What did you do to my grand-nephew?!”

“I wouldn’t know.” He replied bitterly. "He’s not here with me.”

“It’s because he’s not here with you that it makes you liable! I saw the way Thorfinn looked last night when you were dancing with that traitorous assassin you call Sir Erik of Norway.”

Thorkell slammed his hands down on the only table in the room, the wood cracking beneath his palms. “You broke his heart! I’ll never forgive you for that! My own kin!”

Asgeir rushed in, putting a hand on Thorkell’s shoulder and attempted to guide him away from the Prince. “Boss, you’re being too dramatic again.”

Thorkell growled as he pointed a finger at the Prince, yelling “You better find him and fix what you’ve done so that he can go back to fighting on the battlefield! He needs his heart back!” A bunch of Thorkell’s men noticed the commotion, running in and helping Aesgir try to pull the giant away but to no avail.

“We got the whole castle, even Jomsvikings, searching for Thorfinn. No one’s seen him since last night.” Askeladd sighed and watched the scene with bored eyes. “What do you think, your highness?”

But Canute blinked, letting Thorkell’s words sink in.

What was Thorkell trying to insinuate? That he hurt Thorfinn? But how?

He thought back to last night, when Thorfinn chased the assassin away. He entered the ballroom, wet and forlorn as he attempted to make his way to Askeladd who was now on the sidelines with his right hand man, Bjorn. The two were chatting lively until they saw the younger man walking to them with a stony expression.

Canute informed them of what was going on, where Thorfinn was going. Askeladd was trying to say something- to plan something while Thorfinn took care of that issue. But Canute was in so much anguish, he didn’t fully process the words being said to him. Or the fact that the room was becoming dull once more in color, and the loud noises became silent as he stared at the polished floors in dismay.

He barely registered the tap on his shoulder when he turned and saw Lord Erik standing in front of him, a sly smile on his face.

“Would you allow me this divine opportunity to dance with your royal Highness?”

Canute remembered wanting to say no. It was on the tip of his tongue again, begging to be released. He was a mess, physically and emotionally. He felt mentally drained and stressed. Everything was just-

Dull again.

But Lord Erik said something that stopped him in his tracks.

“Your father demands you dance with me this time, your Highness.”

And Canute had to swallow his feelings and pride. With heavy eyes and an affirm glance from Askeladd, he accepted as he took Erik’s hand to the floor.

He couldn’t remember the songs they were dancing to. Just the fact that Thorkell looked upset, Askeladd was stone cold, and his father- his Majesty was smug. Fucking smug.

Never had Canute felt such anger surge through him as he did a dip to the floor by a man he had no interest in.

He didn’t remember seeing Thorfinn enter the room. What he does remember is how when the song was near the end, he spotted his love running to the front doors on the stairs. And Canute felt his heart drop to his stomach.

He did the unthinkable- he let go of Erik’s hand and left mid dance.

And no matter how much Canute called out for Thorfinn, it was all in vain. His guard disappeared into the night.

But why? Why did he leave?

‘I saw the way Thorfinn looked last night when you were dancing with that traitorous assassin you call Sir Erik of Norway’

Could it be ?

‘If it wasn’t something you said, it was something you did’

Canute felt something wash over him, a new realization that seeped into his veins and iced him to his core.

It wasn’t because of his missed confession.

It was because of Canute was dancing with Erik.

Oh god, what has he done?

His blue eyes were wide in realization as his heart beat quickened. A chill ran through him, and he could physically feel the coldness in the air. Oh, he realized. He ran because he saw him dancing with Erik.

Oh. Oh no.

Canute closed his fists tightly and grit his teeth. He’s an idiot for not realizing this sooner. No wonder why Thorfinn ran out so quick. No wonder why he…

Askeladd only looked at him while Thorkell began to throw his men off him like they were children. Their rowdiness didn’t stop until Canute stood up from his throne, silencing everyone in the court.

Canute only looked up, blue eyes determined. He looked to Askeladd and then Thorkell.

“Forgive me for my incompetence, gentlemen. I apologize for the way I acted last night and putting us in jeopardy.” he announced to the room solemnly. “And I am sorry about the way I treated Thorfinn’s feelings. To hurt him…was never my intention.” He ended in a whisper, biting his lip to stop the stifling.

Askeladd, Thorkell and his men only remained silent, taking in what they just heard. The older man only looked with a neutral expression as the giant dropped his defensive position, looking at the Prince with an even stare.

“Do you mean that?” Thorkell asked in full seriousness. Canute didn’t mean to feel shaken up by the giant’s lack of comedy, but this must’ve..really hurt Thorfinn. And the others could tell.

Yet he could not.

“Yes. I do.” Canute finalized and stared straight ahead, seeing two of the guards from the prison enter the room.

He needed to pay a visit to someone.

“Please, excuse me. I’ll be talking to Lord Erik” Canute announced and began to walk forwards before stopping in his tracks. “You don’t need to follow me, Askeladd. I can handle this.”

Askeladd remained quiet until he huffed a laugh. “Sure thing, your Highness.” Canute felt his heart leap from the praise, and he walked elegantly out of the court room.

He walked through the cold damp halls of the dungeon; an area reserved under the castle for the worst offenders. The smell was overpowering with the stench of depravity. Canute would’ve never entered these halls a month ago. Yet, he’s here to find out what.

What is stopping him from achieving heaven?

Is it heaven or his personal heaven?

They approached Erik’s cell, a tense silence in the air. As the guard reached to unlock the padlock, Canute braced himself.

He was going to question his childhood friend who just tried to kill his love.

“I- I don’t know what this is about! The assassin may have had my clan insignia but we never planned for an attack!” Erik cried out, scanning the three wildly in desperation as they walked into the enclosed cell. The door shut behind with a heavy thud that rang in Canute’s ears.

Erik looked worse for wear; he was clearly manhandled on the way here, his clothes and hair in disarray. He was stripped of his formal garments for something plain, something ready for blood to spilt on. He kept looking at Canute in quiet desperation, a plea for help. An expectation…that his status and nobility would help him in a situation like this.

“The body was found near the eastern gates. Not only did it have your clan symbol, but also he may have been someone you’ve known.”

“Ridiculous! I’m being framed!”

“Explain this then” Canute nodded to a guard, who walked forward and revealed the green vest the man was wearing. Written in plain view near the collar was Northumbria, and the last name.

“I-“ Erik fell silent, now lost in thought. Canute watched as the color drained from his face and his eyes twitch in remembrance. ”…what did he look like?” Erik’s asked, his voice now quiet.

“The guards reported that he wore a helmet with a dark cloak, and he had reddish brown hair. He also carried a pocket watch with your insignia and role on it.” Canute responded, knowing the guard behind him was holding the watch up in clear view. “It says he’s your personal guard?”

“…that doesn’t explain why I’m here! I swear to you Canute, I never planned anything-“

“What was the information you had for my father?”

“I-…huh?”

“Guard.”

The punishment for causing harm to the royal family was no secret. It wasn’t just a slap on the wrist or a simple let go- Canute has witnessed people be murdered in the street to the people being sold into slavery. And the slavery option was the most merciful out of all of them.

To attempt to assassinate a member of the royal family, however, is an extreme death by punishment.

Yet, Canute was feeling merciful this time around.

The second guard to his left walked forward, holding a long metal pole dipped in animal fat and pig slop. With a single nod from Canute, the guard immediately swung the pole to Erik’s face, earning a loud screech as the sound of a deafening crack produced the cell walls.

Erik, despite his pain and now swelling jaw, was looking at him in absolute shock, teary green eyes wide in pure disbelief. “Who are you? You’re not the Canute I know” he muttered. “You’ve changed…”

“What was the information you had for my father?”

“None of your concern- AHH” he screamed as the guard wacked the pole to his knees and shins. “Oh gods- fuck! Stop!” He cried as they continued their torment.

“Again, what was the information?” Canute asked, not budging an inch. His blue eyes only watched as the man began to twitch, growling and murmuring under his breath.

“I. refuse. to tell you. That is between me and his Majesty.” Erik panted out, eyes still on the ground. Canute only blinked as the screams and beatings continued, trying to block out the emotions coming out from his mind.

Focus on what’s at hand. Remember your goal. Remember what he tried to do last night. And then Canute had an idea-

“Was it information pertaining to your deceased personal guard?”

“AND WHAT OF IT-“ Erik howled as the guard continued to beat his legs, the other guard now walking over with a pair of pliers. As the beating stopped, Erik panted trying to muffle his groans of pain with no success. The pliers guard grabbed Erik by the hair, his beaten face now in the light and forced his jaw open despite the others protests.

The guard reached into his mouth, slowly pulling out his back tooth with harsh force. Erik screamed as he shook in his seat, his squirms only making the pain worse as the guard ripped the tooth from his gums, causing the other to cry out in agony. The guard let go of his hair, blood drooling in pools from the man’s mouth.

“You’re truly not making this easier for yourself, Erik.” Canute sighed, watching everything with distaste. He didn’t agree to this. He didn’t want to reach this. Yet, it had to happen.

“Dammit, I really liked you Canute! Ever since we were young! Do you really think I would pull something like this?!” Erik garbled, green eyes enraged as he spat around his words in blood, chest leaned down and heaving.

The man was unrecognizable from last night.

“You’re an embarrassment.” Erik spat, blood continuing to pain the floor between his feet. “Dancing with that tiny pipsqueak in noble wear. He’s not fooling anyone, he’s not meant for someone like you. He’s a fucking laugh.”

Canute narrowed his eyes, his gaze cold. “You dare insult my personal guard?”

“I’m only speaking the truth, your Highness!” He emphasized the last part with sarcasm. “What good does that man serve you anyway? Do you forget who we are? We are royalty, bound by blood and lineage! You whoring around with some commoner who can’t even reach the height of Thorkell the Giant’s shoulders is fine with you?”

Canute only remained silent as he watched his old friend squirm more in the chair, as if trying to find relief in the fact that he was insulting the Prince.

“Your father, his Majesty, oh he has plans alright. Plans that involve conquering nations past Britannia. Plans that require you OUT of the picture. You would think to thank me because I was the only one defending you, you second rate whore.”

“And yet, you send your personal guard to assassinate me? How touching, Erik. Had I known love like this exists, I would’ve accepted your dance to begin with, instead of being forced to by my own father.” Canute growled, remaining still as Erik physically exploded from the statement.

“He was only meant to scare you, not try to kill. His Majesty and Floki, damn those two! I only want the land and conquer your father and that square head promised me! The land I was supposed to receive 3 years ago because of this fucking war! Land and whores that price my success! You can’t do this to me! I-“

Canute silenced him as he walked forward, holding Erik’s now beaten jaw under his fingers and making the other look him in the eyes. Bruised, swollen and bleeding green eyes filled with venom.

He knew he had lost his friend to the worst sin of all: greed.

“May the Heavenly Father grant you mercy on your path to Heaven above. Because I surely won’t here.”

As he exited, Canute’s footsteps echoed through the cell hall, the sound almost blocking the tortured screams from Erik.

He sighs as he steps outside, seeing the church cross in the distance along the winter blue sky. He looks ahead, unable to say anything more as he stares at the beauty of the world around him.

Yet… he feels disgusted on the inside, for what he’s caused to the one he loves.

Canute gripped the brooch once more before bringing it to his lips. He held onto it like a crucifix. Hoping and praying from above.

He hoped his love would come back to him soon.