“still  in  some  aspects  a  predictable  man,  i  see,”  william  says  before  taking  it  upon  himself  to  venture  into  the  the  pantry  to  find  them  something  to  eat.  he  does  not  have  to  search  for  a  long  time,  though  his  findings  are  admittedly  more  stale  than  he  would  have  hoped.  he  returns  to  the  kitchen,  finds  himself  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table  where  aksel  is  and  plops  down  on  a  stool.

“and,  this  love  you  feel  for  my  brother,”  he  says,  breaking  the  piece  of  bread  in  half  and  handing  one  of  the  pieces  over  to  the  viking.  “does  my  father  know?  because,  i  found  my  brother  in  what  is,  ah,  i  suppose  a  compromised  state-”  he  motions  to  his  eye,  “-  and-  well,  he  did  not  wish  to  speak  on  it,  and  so  i  will  not  ask,  though  i  do  assume  you  know  more  than  i  do-...”  words  seem  to  spill  out  of  the  prince  after  what  has  been  weeks  of  silence,  and  yet  he  cannot  bring  himself  to  quite  so  openly  name  his  cause  of  concern.  it  is  the  way  of  the  friesal  family,  perhaps,  at  least  amongst  the  siblings.  knowing  there  is  a  problem  and  possibly  indirectly  acknowledging  it,  but  not  discussing  it  so  frankly.  he  looks  at  the  piece  of  bread  in  his  hands,  eyebrows  knit  together  as  he  pauses  for  a  brief  moment  of  thought,  trying  to  name  specifically  what  it  is  that  he  wants  to  know.  “is  he  safe,  with  your  love?  because,  forgive  me  if  i’m  speaking  too  openly,  but,  leaving  his  room  in  the  early  morning  hours  is  not  very…  discrete.”

aksel found himself all too thankful that the past was in the past, what had happened between them however briefly was no longer a subject of conversation, will clearly had his sights self elsewhere as did he. he followed the prince into the kitchen, where he had been not so long ago with lachlan - where it had all started again. " it's.. it was complicated. " boot kicked back to secure the door shut he walked towards the table.

" bread, of course. " predictable, but it had never failed him. he shouldn't have needed any food but most of that cake had landed on them instead of being eaten. he flashed will a grin and leaned back against the table. " we were together for a while, years ago, but then... we had reason to go our own ways. " he had never wanted it to be that way but fate had made it so. " i came to scotland and he was chasing a girl so i continued to bury it. now we are... well we're here. i love your brother and i'll make him happy if i can. "

there’s  a  slight  curve  to  her  lips  as  she  listens  to  him  speak,  in  contrast  to  how  they  both  seemingly  feel  and,  not  necessarily  the  topic  at  hand,  but  rather  the  reason  behind  why  such  a  conversation  could  be  held  in  the  first  place.  her  needing  to  hide  away.  she  looks  down  at  the  bowl  of  soup  now  held  in  two  hands,  not  willing  to  let  the  opportunity  to  warm  them  both  up  go  amiss.  

“only if  you  are certain that  your  friends  would  not  mind,”  she  says,  unsure  of  how  else  to  place  forth  the  question  of  whether  a  princess  staying  in  the  viking  long  house  might  become  a  cause  for  annoyance  for  some  of  the  other  clan  members.  not  that  she  thinks  of  herself  as  an  annoying  person,  she’s  not  opposed  at  all  to  the  idea  of  making  herself  useful  should  she  be  allowed  to  stay.  but,  well.  the  way  oskar  has  previously  tried  to  insist  that  her  mere  presence  in  the  camp,  before  she  had  a  reason  to  hide  away  in  it,  was  something  that  ought  to  be  avoided. 

it  was  not  lost  on  him  that  kelem’s  normal  bubbly  personality  and  radiant  smile  were  absent.  although  he  had  anticipated  this,  witnessing  it  up  close  left  him  at  a  loss  for  how  to  uplift  her  spirits.  comforting  someone  wasn’t  something  oskar  was  adept  at,  and  secretly  wished  for  aksel,  or  even  magnus,  who  were  far  more  skilled  in  the  art  of  comforting.  

oskar  sat  himself  on  the  wooden  stool  he  kept  in  his  tent,  positioning  himself  opposite  of  her.  he  gazed  down  at  his  bowl  of  soup  before  casting  another  glance  in  her  direction.  “  i’ll  ask  aksel  about  moving  you  to  the  longhouse,  ”  he  finally  uttered,  disregarding  the  fact  that  aksel  had  no  inkling  of  her  presence.  he  could  only  imagine  how  that  conversation  would  unfold.  hopefully,  it  would  not  result  in  any  physical  altercations,  considering  he  was  very  much  still  healing  from  his  fight  with  hal.  “  it’ll  be  warmer  for  you  there  than  here  in  the  tent.  ”     

magnus rolls his eyes, though his expression softens after the fact. he's not necessarily down, but, well. he is something. only, he can't quite name it. what he knows for certain though, is that he is not in the mood to open up such a discussion. and so, he shrugs.

"nothing is the matter," he says, words contradicting a displeased expression. "and-... in the case that something was, i'm fairly certain i would not wish to speak about it."

he rose a brow, knowing that wasn't exactly true. then again, context is important. different contexts, different outcomes.

njal pulled himself up, sitting back on the log but away from the fire. "i apologize, lille ræv," he put his hands to the log so not tempted to reach out, "you know i never mean to upset you. you just look down," he moved one hand to rub the back of his own neck. "but clearly it is not the time."

he cleared his throat, "do you want to talk about what's the matter?"

magnus stops in his tracks for a moment, green eyes scanning the back of the walking viking - he's not exactly sure what the feeling that washes over him is, but it shows itself through a tightening feeling in his chest that he can't quite shake. he takes a few running steps to catch up to aksel, or to at least walk closer to him, not quite next to but more so a little behind. it has been a while since he has been spoken to in this manner by aksel, he's not sure what to make of it - only knows he doesn't enjoy it one bit. "i only patched him up, aksel," he says, stating the obvious; contemplative eyes watching closely for any reaction. "do not be this short with me, i don't deserve it."

aksel had hoped he'd at least leave a scar for the frisian prince to remember him by, at least then he may learn to have some respect for those more powerful. he had tried to be kind, yet arie had pushed him to his limits and then his breaking point. maybe the scottish king had something to do with that - agression built up inside him with no place to go. prince arie had been the lucky target in the end. " good, " he lied through his teeth. " perhaps next time he will think twice before he calls me scum and spits in my face. " he didn't glance back to magnus as he started to walk back through the snow - it'd be a long walk back to camp with no food to take with them. " you will still come back hungry if you use what little energy that food gives you while you're there. "

william  can  tell  that  they’re  trying  not  to  treat  him  as  if  he  is  made  of  glass,  can  tell  that  they  are  trying  to  spare  him  of  explaining  or  showing  or  speaking  it  into  existence  -  but  they’re  both  aware.  both  of  them  know  it’s  there,  and  despite  how  he  tries  to  feel  normal  about  it  will  absolutely  hyper  aware  of  how  were  tyr  to  move  their  hand  further  to  the  left  it  might  cause  a  reaction,  and  he’s  weighing  options.  they’ll  see  it  eventually,  no  matter  how  he  tries  to  pretend  it  isn’t  there,  no  matter  how  his  silence  tries  to  even  convince  them  that  it’s  fine  and  everything  is  normal  and  there  is  not  stitches  closing  up  an  irritated  scar  lurking  beneath  the  silk  of  his  shirt  just  waiting  to  make  their  presence  known  to  ruin  the  resemblance  of  serenity  him  and  tyr  have  found  at  last.  he  tries  and  he  tries  to  ignore  it,  but.  they’re  both  in  on  the  secret,  so  it’s  a  bit  difficult,  isn’t  it?

there’s  another  laugh,  this  one  more  so  an  actual  laugh  rather  than  just  a  breath.  “aye,  it’ll be  much  better  she  learns  it  in  your  accent,”  he  offers  in  response,  eyebrows  arching  and  eyes  widening  for  a  brief  moment  before  his  expression  once  more  softens.  a  bit  hesitantly,  he  lets  go  of  their  hand  to  take  the  other  one;  guides  it  to  barely  graze  the  right  side  of  his  stomach,  just  below  his  ribs  -  eyes  now  very  much  intentionally  avoiding  theirs.  “here,”  he  says,  moves  their  hand  so  it  hovers  along  the  scar  before  firmly  placing  their  hand  back  to  where  it  had  been  previously,  letting  go  to  reach  for  the  other  one  -  resume  their  previous  position  to  swiftly  erase  all  evidence  of  the  short  explanation.  “anywhere  else  is  fine.  i  won’t  break.”  

he clears his throat. and, as if that had merely been a parenthesis, he jumps back to the previous topic. "i suppose i'll have to learn danish, then. as i remember, she has already been quite insistent on teaching me some words."

"you may attempt it all you like. i simply will not allow you any success in the endeavor." amusement still lit their face, the hand not holding his now settling on his side, trying to be mindful of any pained reaction. they still didn't know the exact location of the injury, and tried to remain aware of that, cautious without being overly so. they feel him laugh against them, a much quieter go of it than their own, but no less...precious is a word that comes to mind. there's a certain feeling that sparks knowing they're the reason he's laughing. it settles something, moves it back into place where once it had felt less balanced.

he turns now, brings their hands closer, and-- and they know they could. it would be as simple as tilting his head again, and they know he'd let them like they know the sun will set tonight and it will rise by the morning. because it is not a thing between them, these desires and the usual penchant for acting upon them a simple, easy thing. but now? now it almost feels unfair. he would think nothing had changed, but in fact, something had been shifting for some time, on tyr's part. and it did not settle easily, no, rather it crashed its way through and left them unable to ignore it completely. and it didn't feel right, knowing their reason for wanting to kiss him would have been so different from the reasons he would want to kiss them.

their hand is still settled on his side, but now it moves to skate up his ribs and back down again, absently, like some part of them needs to move but the idea of not touching him doesn't even cross their mind. "if your danish was better i might even say anneliese could keep you safe on her own. she bites much worse now with more teeth, and she quite likes you. but the chance of her learning english, and in your accent? it would sound atrocious." they were joking...mostly. anneliese very much did bite, and it did hurt much more than it had in months previous. and will's danish was lacking. but will being around enough that anneliese learned english from him was...far from an atrocious thought, actually.

milo  has  come  to  a  complete  standstill  -  frozen  in  place,  almost  too  nervous  to  even  take  a  breath,  as  if  even  the  slightest  movement  would  be  what  severs  the  already  so  frail  thread  their  relationship  seems  to  be  dangling  from.  marius  hands  remain  balled  into  fists  while  milo’s  are  aching  with  the  need  to  reach  out,  to  hold,  to  soothe;  he  knows  it  would  be  of  no  use,  but  the  urge  nearly  breaks  him,  snaps  him  in  half,  sends  him  spiralling,  anything  and  everything  all  at  once.  and  yet,  he  does  not  move.  doesn’t  flinch.  he  won’t  allow  himself  to.  

not  until  marius’  gaze  finally  meets  his  -  brown  eyes  meeting  heterochromia.  blue  and  hazel,  as  if  even  his  physical  features  remain  split,  two  different  worlds  with  no  balance,  never  a  chance  at  union.  now though,  secrets  have  met  honesty.  there  is  no  comfortable  space  in-between  the  two  to  exist  in.  there’s  this,  marius’  anger,  and  his  own  desperation  for  what  normalcy  he’s  been  dreaming  of  ever  since  things  had  started  to  change.  ever  since  marius  had  married  and  he’d  been  left  to  stand  by  and  wait.  he  swallows.  his  throat  feels  tight  and  he  is  unsure  of  how  he  is  supposed  to  get  any  words  out  in  this  state.  but,  if  nothing  else,  marius  had  looked  at  him  for  a  brief  moment  and,  perhaps  he  is  delusional,  but  he  is  fairly  certain  he’d  not  seen  hate.  anger,  yes,  but  not  hate. he grasps onto this thought.  “i  do  not  know,”  he  says,  truthful  now,  finally.  “i  do  not  know  but,  we  will.  i  will,  i  swear  it.”

his father had raised him to be cold, seperated from his siblings, raised as an heir and not a son and marius had stayed true to that. he'd had no choice with so few emotions running through his veins, decisions required little thought, he acted on impulse rather than heart, except... except for when it was milo. even now he hated the way the words crawled under his skin and worked their way into his caged heart. he knew better than to believe them, milo had lied to him and had been doing so since they'd left hungary for scotland and yet he could feel them working their way in anyway, sitting in his chest as the ache did. fingers remained clenched into fists at his sides even when his safe softened. milo was the last person he wanted to argue with, the one person he thought he could allow his guard down around and he'd proven him wrong.

eyes connect with the guards, jaw tensing when he immediately regrets it - the way he still continues to soften under his gaze makes him feel weak. " you lied to me. " words spoken again, marius tried to let his fingers loosen from inside his palms. " you could have just told me, but instead everybody will know. they'll think you're some heartless killer and i'm the fool that turned a blind eye. " trying desperately not to soften under the guards gaze even now, marius directed his gaze to the ground. " you've made me look stupid and you've made yourself the enemy. how are we supposed to fix that? "

william gave a prolonged whistle of surprise at her response, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. obviously, she had no obligation to make him like her - and to be quite frank she might not have stood the slightest chance from the very start - but, she is certainly not doing herself any favours. nor is he, nor will he, but that is besides the point.

he smiles. knows fully well that he is being childish, can practically hear his mother using his full name to effectively scold him somewhere in the back of his mind. yet, he is in a mood, now. what that mood is exactly, he cannot say. all he knows for certain is that this woman is partially to blame. "i apologise for voicing my thoughts quite so frankly. maybe next time, you'll refrain from asking for it."

if  her  initial  opinion  for  prince  william  was  positive,  it  was  swiftly  diminishing.  she  was  at  a  loss  of  what  she  could  have  done  to  provoke  his  immature  insults  and  teasing.  she  couldn’t  recall  ever  having  a  real  conversation  or  interaction  with  him,  yet  she  was  enduring  his  mistreatment.  

“  is  resorting  to  name-calling,  and  petty  teasing  the  best  you  can  do?  ”  she  began,  maintaining  her  neutral  expression.  “  i  had  hoped  for  something  more  intellectually  stimulating  from  you.  it’s  truly  disappointing  to  discover  that  the  rumors  about  the  young  prince  of  scotland  were  indeed  true.  ”  it  was  mostly  a  lie.  very  little  was  actually  said  about  the  prince,  and  the  tidbits  she  had  heard  were  nothing  more  than  idle  gossip.  some  of  which  she  regretted  ever  hearing. 

playing stupid. he is not playing stupid. the amount of times he's been told something along these lines recently actually has him questioning his intellect. he waits for the prince to continue explaining whatever it is that he is too stupid to understand, and as they are interrupted, his gaze softens, just a little. with the whirlwind that enters the room, how could it not? he tries not to think too much of how gently they speak to her, tries not to make comparisons to what he knows, tries to ignore the gnawing feeling it brings on. plans to wait it out, which... will not happen, what with how they allow her to join in on the interrogation. the word family sticks with him, too. he pretends it doesn't.

there are… so many words compressed into such short periods of time, at first he doesn’t know where to focus. what end to grab a hold of so that he may - if this is what he’s even supposed to do - begin to untangle the myriad of questions thrown at him. what alternated truth might be appropriate in response to why kitty doesn't like him, how popsy and he actually are becoming friends and so maybe not all hope is lost could too, eventually, maybe; or perhaps even his age, to begin with, because if he's old then... no, he doesn’t know, not until one of the questions hits him like a gut punch would. sort of… pulls the air out of him and leaves him breathless, fumbling, mentally scrambling for both words and a reason escape, whichever he could find first-

and just like that the storm of a princess leaves, is escorted out by a parent in such a loving way, and will is just… sitting there, cluelessly. forced to act normal when he familiarly suddenly feels like he might actually take his last breath any second now. to be reminded of his very dead mother and then witness such gentle parenting, from a father nonetheless, is far past what he had expected when guards had all but peeled him away from his chambers to bring him here. were he delusional enough, he might have named this as either a sick joke or something orchestrated by kitty in the name of revenge. he does know better, though. he’s not quite that far gone. halfway, perhaps, for having the thoughts, but… no. it is just life and god or fate or something along those lines doing what they do best - shove him to the ground and then laugh in his face.

and now augustus is speaking again and it takes a moment for him to snap back, so he’s fairly certain that he missed part of it - what other information? he is not opposed to the idea of women so long as they are not forced upon him, and- well... there is something else, too, of course. someone. but he will not speak of that. of them. “if this is about kitty’s-... ivar, i do not mind him. as long as he does not threaten me again, they can... i mean- i do not know any details of it, but ah- she seems fond of him. i have no plans to... to stand in the way of that.”

"william." augustus sighs, their face painted not so much by amusement but something very much the oppositement. "playing stupid does not suit you." either william thought them blind, or he was somehow blind himself. the two of them shared little, they being the crown prince and he the youngest in his line, they widowed and a father while even over halfway through his twenties william remained unencumbered. no, by their own snooping, gossip admittedly not the most reliable thing, but, well in this case it seemed to work, they knew there was one thing. or, they were fairly certain. nothing else made near as much sense.

"it is clear that--" the sound of impending footsteps cuts them off, and they sigh, waiting. no sooner had they begun to wait than winnie herself burst in, rattling off her adventures with princess niamh and apparently not seeing william at all. "winnie, win-- wynflæd." the use of her full name cuts her off, and only then does she seem to take in that she's barged in on something. it's the one rule they've tried to enforce with her, which means of course that bea has done what they can to ignore it entirely, a dose of their own medicine, perhaps. they sigh, leaning to be a bit lower, closer to her eye level. "sunbeam, prince william and i are having a discussion. you are not to interrupt without an emergency, correct?" winnie pouts a moment, but eventually nods, mumbles an apology. she seems to have more to say, and against their better judgement, they inquire softly. she asks if, since augustus is interrogating the prince --very much not what they said-- and he is to marry kitty and therefore be her family as well, could she talk to him too?

augustus knows they're going to regret this. "you may ask a few, winnie, but--" and she pays them no mind after that, launching into a breathless whydoesn'tkittylikeyouareyoumeantoher and a breath before youhadbestnotbemeantoherortopopsyespeciallypopsyand and auggie almost thinks she's done. the worst, however, is yet to come. whydon'tyouhaveawifealreadyyou'refairlyold gets a laugh out of them, but it stops being quite so funny when winnie, filter lacking, continues andwhy'stherenoqueenofscotlanddidshediemymotherdiedtooit'sverysadyourmotherdiedunless-- "wynflæd, that is quite enough. go find bea. now." they're shooing her away now, only slightly mortified. they feel a bit bad for their tone, though, and walk with her both to quietly apologize and to make sure she actually walks away. a quiet apology and a kiss to her temple is appeasement enough, it seems, and they return after a moment, only somewhat certain they can still salvage their dignity. "as i was saying. it is clear that you are not receptive to my sister, which given most circumstances would be understandable on its own, but given some other information, the issue seems to go deeper than simple indignation at the arrangement. and i...was in your shoes, at one point. i understand it."

it  would  be  a  lie  to  say  that  halldor  did  not  in  this  moment  envy  the  young  prince.  the  expecting  father.  though  he  has  certainly  aided  in  the  raising  of  three  children,  he  does  not  see  it  in  any  nearby  future  that  he  should  be  granted  the  gift  of  raising  a  child  of  his  own.  grief  has  his  family  in  a  chokehold  and  he  is  too  wary  of  the  idea  of  inviting  someone  else  in,  whether  it  be  in  the  name  of  love  or  merely  out  of  the  obligation  of  continuing  the  bloodline  as  a  king;  the  situation  feels  too  fragile.  it  cannot  be  just  anyone,  they  would  have  to  be  damn  close  to  perfect,  and,  certainly,  perfect  would  not  want  anything  to  do  with  him.  

he  watches  the  prince  take  a  sip  of  his  drink.  has  the  thought  that  perhaps  this  is  just  what  was  needed  for  arie  to…  pull  himself  together.  he  has  never  thought  the  prince  to  be  stupid,  merely  irresponsible.  a  child  can  heal  people  like  nothing  else.  he  has  seen  this  for  himself,  the  way  a  young  princess  has  been  one  of  very  few  things  that  has  kept  his  own  family  together,  united  in  regards  to  at  least  one  thing.  “a  son,”  he  says,  smile  warm  as  he  nods  in  thought.  “forgive me for questioning what reason you might have to celebrate. congratulations.”  

is   he   excited   …   ?   arie   has   not   asked   himself   this   since   he   has   learned   that   he   was   going   to   be   a   father   .   there   had   been   no   time   to   be   excited   so   far   .   there   was   making   up   to   do   –  on   all   ends   .   with   her   ,   with   his   older   brother   ,   with   the   rest   of   his   family   ,   with   those   who   showed   disappointment   in   his   irresponsible   behavior   .   and   when   the   making   up   was   done   …   new   question   marks   would   arise   .   how   was   he   to   tell   people   ?   should   he   …   at   all   ?   should   he   ask   elif   about   it   ?   perhaps   she   would   be   infuriated   once   more   by   such   silly   question   .   

“   certainly   .   “   he   speaks   without   a   second   thought   on   it   ,   almost   feeling   as   if   excitement   over   it   would   be   a   shameful   thing   after   all   that   had   been   said   to   him   .   he   had   made   a   mistake   by   sleeping   with   her   before   wedlock   (   and   the   lack   of   intentions   for   it   )   ,   getting   excited   over   the   consequences   …   was   sinful   .   “   a   few   more   weeks   .   getting   closer   to   meeting   my   son   .   “   the   tipsy   prince   mumbles   before   drowning   his   words   in   another   sip   from   his   cup   .

magnus  can  tell,  that  his  father  can  tell.  it’s…  well,  it  is  surprising,  yet  not  at  all.  his  father  has  always  known  him,  it  seems.  no  matter  the  time  spent  apart,  no  matter  what  turns  a  son  takes,  in  the  way  that  he  acts  or  in  the  changes  in  his  personality,  even  in  the  way  that  he  puts  distance  between  them  and  runs  away,  his  father  still  just  knows.  “i  have  time,”  he  says,  perhaps  a  bit  too  quickly  -  another  failed  attempt  at  remaining  casual  -  but  then  again,  if  is  father  knows,  then  what  is  the  point  in  hiding  it?  is  it  to  spare  himself  the  embarrassment  of  even  indirectly  admitting  that  he  misses  the  man  when  he  is  not  around,  or  is  it  to  protect  him  for  when  he  next  screws  something  up  to  such  an  extent  that  it  will  threaten  their  still  healing  bond?  

he  turns,  makes  his  way  over  to  his  bed  and  crouches  down,  reaches  beneath  it  to  pull  out  the  sword.  stands  up  straight  and  with  ease  slides  the  sword  into  its  sheath  already  secured  to  his  back  -  this  movement,  he  has  been  practising.  he  jogs  back  to  his  father  and  then  pushes  the  door  open.  “where  is it that you've been sleeping, anyway?”

if he didn't know his son well enough he might not have recognised the way in which his tone changed. was it excitement? it sounded like it. finnr had stored away plenty of memories of magnus as a boy excitedly playing or laughing, enough to recognise the change of pitch in his voice, even after all these years. it wasn't something a father forgot. he wouldn't mention it though, he'd keep it to himself - not wanting to draw attention to something magnus might not be willing to admit to.

" we can do it now. i have time... if you do? " a smile appeared on the advisors lips. now or later, some other day, magnus only had to ask and he would show up. finnr knew better than to ever admit that he'd stepped away from his role as advisor to go in search of magnus - it didn't need to be said. they both knew. " it does, but i've grown used to sleeping outside of it. i may keep it that way. "

”aksel did this to you?” he asks, at first in disbelief, and then, well… he knows that before arie had ever paid any visits to his tent, he had gone to aksel. he knows arie to be… the way that he is, as goes for aksel, so, it is not perhaps impossible to believe that the two should have found themselves angry with each other. and, while he knows aksel would not take to anger where it is not deserved in some way, he can also recognise a wounded ego when he sees one. thus, he won’t go there. “he should not have.” he will not ask for a backstory or pry for details on why and how. not now. what is important now is to patch up the broken prince. so, rag, dampened by water, in one hand, his other cups arie’s cheek.

“you certainly are, my lord. should someone else ever be lucky enough to see the stains up close, i shall tell them all about the brave prince who came to rest here after battle,” he says, offers a small smirk, and brings the rag up to carefully clean away what blood has ran from his nose, to see if it is all old and dried or if he is still bleeding. “we can hump in his tent later to get back at him if you’d like.” a jest said in very poor taste as he gently wipes away blood from the prince’s neck. perhaps in attempt to distract from the gruesome state of him, or in wanting to hear a softening of the tone of prince arie’s voice. the anger was a shield which he’d like to pry out of the prince’s hands. it would do neither of them any good right now. “now. i can fix your nose, so long as you promise not to get angry with me— where else are you hurt?”

it   was   humiliating   enough   that   all   had   seen   what   had   happened   between   aksel   and   him   .   humiliating   because   while   he   might   have   been   the   better   talker   ,   the   viking   was   clearly   the   stronger   and   more   skilled   man   .   arie   had   known   not   to   stand   a   chance   should   a   fight   start   between   them   and   yet   ,   he   would   have   rather   gone   down   fighting   from   down   under   with   his   fists   above   his   head   for   protection   than   to   just   let   things   rest   .   he   had   not   known   peace   since   the   conversation   with   aksel   .   and   now   aksel   would   not   know   peace   as   long   as   the   prince   could   mess   with   it   .   yet   ,   the   most   embarrassing   part   about   it   all   was   the   need   of   help   .   arie   never   needed   help   ,   never   needed   anyone   …   oh   how   he   wished   for   someone   to   be   there   whom   he   needed   .   truly   needed   .   but   he   had   learned   to   fight   for   himself   because   no   one   else   would   .   

chocolate   eyes   avoid   the   gaze   of   the   other   as   he   is   lead   to   sit   on   the   bed   .   good   .   his   legs   were   too   close   to   giving   in   .   “   this   is   your   lords   doing   .   you   must   be   proud   to   follow   him   .   “   arie   spits   out   words   like   bile   though   the   angry   was   not   directed   at   aksel   anymore   .   fighting   ,   scratching   ,   clawing   to   the   last   bits   of   dignity   –   the   rage   the   only   shield   from   crumbling   to   vulnerability   which   he   had   so   successfully   ignored   away   for   weeks   ,   months   –   maybe   his   whole   life   .   because   if   he   didn’t   ,   if   that   he   let   that   wall   shake   and   fall   …   then   perhaps   he   would   have   to   admit   that   from   the   day   he   had   first   seen   the   light   of   day   until   today   …   there   was   no   love   in   his   life   .   because   how   could   a   man   whose   parents   had   not   loved   him   be   loved   by   anyone   else   …   the   grimace   on   his   face   grows   colder   the   more   pain   spreads   through   his   body   until   it   is   magnus’   touch   that   makes   him   finally   look   at   the   other   man   .   “   i’m   bleeding   on   your   bed   .   “   the   prince   finally   speaks   ,   more   of   a   statement   rather   than   an   apology   .

a  short  nod  is  offered  in  response  to  his  words  before  mayumi  turns  on  her  heel  to  fetch  him  a  drink.  well, two drinks. one  for  him,  one  for  her,  as  per  his  suggestion.  after  all,  who  would  she  be  to  turn  down  the  opportunity  to  sit  down, to  give  herself  a  much  deserved  break  when  it  presented  itself  to  her  in  such  an  irresistible  way?  she  returns  to  the  table  with  two  cups  of  ale,  her  smile  by  now  more  relaxed,  barely  visible  still.  she  sits  down  next  to  him  and  sets  the  cups  down  onto  the  table,  sliding  one  of  them  towards  him.  “i  am  surprised  to  see  you  back.  i  would  reckon  a  married  man  would  have  more  important  things  to  do.”

normally   ,   he   wouldn’t   .   wouldn’t   seek   the   same   woman   twice   ,   wouldn’t   risk   for   the   other   to   start   feeling   any   sort   of   attachment   .   while   he   found   women   solely   for   the   sake   of   pleasure   bryn   surely   had   no   intentions   of   toying   with   their   hearts   .   merely   did   he   wish   to   to   be   wanted   (   a   few   moments   would   be   enough   )   ,   to   be   looked   at   with   the   same   desire   that   talita   had   once   looked   at   him   with   .   when   had   the   fire   last   burned   in   her   eyes   without   objects   being   thrown   or   words   of   anger   being   exchanged   ?   …   the   viking   comes   to   sit   ,   the   lady   serving   right   there   by   his   side   .   “   lady   .   “   small   nod   .   “   ale   .   one   for   you   too   if   you   wish   .   “

propped  up  against  enough  pillows  that  he  might  as  well  be  sat  up  straight,  adam  brings  a  hand  to  his  face  as  if  he’s  about  to  rub  the  sleep  from  his  eyes  -  but  abruptly  stops  the  motion  before  it  comes  anything  but  a  light  graze.  his  hand  drops  onto  the  blanket.  fingers  absentmindedly  toy  with  the  fabric  as  a  tired  smile  curves  the  corners  of  his  lips  upward.  the  sight  of  kitty  and  popsy  alike  is  a  welcome  one,  though  he  does  feel  strangely  aware  of  how  he  doesn’t  know  the  state  of  his  own  face.  he  knows,  yet  he  doesn’t,  and  he  knows  that  kitty  sees  what  he  can’t.  he  tries  not  to  think  of  it  -  she  is  kind  enough  not  to  mention  it,  and  so.  a  smile.  feels  some  excitement,  even,  at  the  chance  of  normalcy  presented  to  him  with  her  visit.  

“hi,”  comes  the  reply,  meek, pathetic  -  not  sounding  quite  as  confidently  casual  as  he  had  aimed  for.  he  clears  his  throat,  and  then,  moves  aside  some  half  finished  knitting  to  make  space  for  her,  should  she  wish  to  sit  on  the  bed.  he  can  hear  iggy  clucking  with  familiar  curiosity  upon  being  reunited  with  a  her  friend,  though  he  does  not  turn  his  head  to  look;  trying,  still,  to  minimise  his  movements  as  much  as  possible,  not  quite  sure  what  state  he’s  in  yet - having just woken up from what was more likely a foul start at a night's sleep rather than just a nap.

"i don't mind at all," he assures her, pushing aside what embarrassment he feels as a result of being seen like this. "you're a sight for sore eyes, both of you. or, i guess, the three of you." he smiles. "literally, even."

CLOSED STARTER for @gxst - kitty & adam

Kitty wanted to visit Adam as soon as he was freed but had held off so that he could recover in his own time. What had been done to him… well, she did not know the full extent of it, but she knew enough to know space might be appreciated. Some wounds were better nursed alone or in the company of a person’s closest loved ones, where privacy and understanding were never in doubt. And so, she waited, until one day Nate suggested that Adam might enjoy a bit of company. It pleased her that he asked her to go. It felt like being trusted with something precious, because she knew Nathaniel wouldn’t invite just anyone into Adam’s company so soon after what happened.

Endeavoring to live up to that trust, she carefully considered what to bring. Popsy, so that Iggy might have a bit of fun too, and wine. It would come in handy whatever the mood Adam was in – sad or happy, alcohol usually found a role to play.

“Hey,” she greeted him with a soft smile, careful to hide any reaction she might have to unhealed bruises. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought this one along.” Kitty placed Popsy, whose tail had started thumping against her side immediately at the sight of his feathered friend across the room, down onto the floor. “Or this one,” she lifted the wine bottle she carried in her other hand up for him to see. “Thought it might be nice to have, if you’re interested.”

magnus  taps  his  fingers  against  the  table,  one  after  the  other  in  a  short-lived  rhythm  before  hands  clasp  together.  he  tilts  his  head  towards  her,  innocent,  boyish  smile  in  place.  ”of course - what  kind  of  man  would  i  be  to  let  you  sleep  cold  in  a  tent?”  he  asks,  invitation  officially  extended.  a  bed  inside  is  warmer,  even  more  so  if  it  is  occupied  by  two  people.  prince  arie  might  be  hard  pressed  to  find  his  attention  shared  with  someone  else  for  one  night,  but  then  again,  the  prince  has  always  seemed  like  the  kind  of  person  scared  off  by  devotion.  so,  perhaps  this  is  doing  him  a  favour.  or,  perhaps it is testing  the  waters -  seeing  what  might  happen, how he would react,  should  magnus  find  company  elsewhere.  

he  leans  away  from  her  then,  reaches  for  a  log  to  chuck  onto  the  fire  -  the  reason  he’d  been  sat  here  in  the  first  place.  as  he  sits  back  up  he  finds  himself  intentionally  closer  to  her  than  before.  "my bed is by no means large, though, so we will have to stay close." it's silly. it's a cliché, even, and it draws a chuckle out of him. "i hope you don't mind."

she gives no response but the smirk on her face could have given away the thoughts that ran through her mind. he's cheeky, not unlike her, the people around their camp are hungry and tired - she would never go as far as insisting he was different or refreshing but he had her attention, that was what she'd come here for after all, wasn't it? the arrows had been an excuse, talita had seen magnus before and curiosity had gotten the better of her.

" we sleep in tents. " the viking nodded her head. the longhouse was impressive, their clan had made no effort to build something so impressive and winter would be cold. they had survived similar and would again, even if her bed sometimes felt emptier than ever. " how about tonight? i would not turn down one night in the warm at least. if you have room. "

he’s  no  coward,  but  he  is  not  fearless,  either. nor reckless - always the type to carefully weigh every option before acting. the one exception, perhaps, being what has led him into the position that he now finds himself in. a brother, angry. possibly out for revenge, if he knows anything about the man whose name is etched in his memory.

the  way  the  man  looks  at  him  as  if  he  is  something  that  ought  to  be  merciessly  dealt  with  -  brown  eyes  scan  him  as  if  to  judge  his  own  odds  in  surviving  should  he  have  to  defend  himself.  the  alcohol  in  his  blood  certainly  puts  him  at  a  disadvantage.  he  doubts  that  words  would  do  the  trick,  here, and yet, it is worth a try.  “why  am  i  still  here  as  in,  in  scotland?  surely  you  understand,  as  an  advisor  i  am  in  no  position  to  simply…  up  and  leave.  i  have  a  duty  to  fulfil. i shall... get out of your hair, though.” he holds his hands up defensively. "should you let me pass, my friend; i do not seek any trouble."

he'd had time to consider what he'd do to the man who'd ended his brother life if they ever crossed paths. he'd dreamt about it, of picking him apart one piece at a time. elric had come up with the cruelest of punishments in his head, so desperately wanting to play them out, yet now he was in scotland and the man in question was there too... he'd made no atttempt to seek him out. nothing had changed, not really, he'd found his footing, started to make a life for himself, he'd even reunited with isobel, anyone might fool themselves into thinking elric may want peace with him. it wasn't the cas, he still wanted to put a knife through the mans guts - he was just waiting for the right moment.

face to face at last, elric made no attempt to move out of his way, his jaw clenched, only made worse by the others petty greeting. " long time no see, " the trader repeated the others words and stepped forward leaving little space between the two. " why are you still here? do you wish to die? "

magnus pushes himself up, sits back down onto the log - he doesn't quite care for sitting in the cold snow, after all. the crease between his eyebrows stays firmly in place to show off how he is not too pleased with the situation, or with njal who caused it.

"nothing happened," he says then, rolling his eyes and dropping his gaze to his hands in his lap before instead looking off into the distance - anywhere but at the other man. "i just do not like being manhandled."

njal leaned up using his arms, "apparently failing at cheering you up," which usually he'd say he was relatively good at.

he pulled his legs closer, moving to a criss-cross position to sit up fully. "okay," he cleared his throat, grabbing his fur that fell off his shoulder to put back on himself. "what happened?"

despite their relationship ending, magnus meant a lot to him. he didn't like to see him so cross or when something was clearly bothering him. njal didn't usually pry, he knew if magnus wanted to talk to him, he would. he was going to reach over and dust off his shoulder but stopped himself, not wanting to cause magnus to get even angrier by touching him. he put his hand back down beside him.

were  it  not  such  a  busy  day,  mayumi  might  have  seen  the  woman  earlier.  her  entering  the  tavern,  seeking  her  out  with  what  seemed  to  be  something  resembling  fire  in  her  eyes  -  she  might  have  caught  onto  it  sooner,  what  was  happening.  she  didn’t.  she’s  been  serving  grabbing  hands  all  day,  mind  elsewhere.  normally  she  is  not  so  distracted,  it  is  truly  unfortunate  that  this  particular  instance  would  be  one  where  she  is,  admittedly,  caught  off  guard.  but,  alas. 

her  head  snaps  up  as  she  hears  her  name spoken by an unfamiliar voice,  eyebrows  arched  in  question  as  her  gaze  fixes  on  the  woman  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  bar.  her  lips  curve  into  a  well-practised,  warm  smile,  as  she  nods. the situation is off. briefly, she wonders where haneul is. though should this situation bring trouble, she's sure he'd do nothing but lean back and enjoy watching, anyway.  “i  am,  yes." her elbows find the counter, she leans her weight on them. "what can i do for you?"

CLOSED STARTER - talita & mayumi. @gxst

curiosity had gotten the better of her, but it often did. if she wasn't the curious type talita doubted she she'd be as good a warrior as she was now - the more she knew the better, but in this case it may have been kinder to herself not to know. still she went looking, wanting to know who her husband spent his time with instead of her. she would not gain a friend from it, only an enemy, her anger only festering until she saw the woman in the tavern. it awoke inside her then, but it remained silent. if she wanted she could end her but what good would that do when she did the same to him? the two of them were as bad as one another, she knew it, did he? or was he yet to find out?

approaching the woman from the other side of the bar talita leaned forward, elbows against the counter, chin in her hands. " you are mayumi, yes? "