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Love is just a tool to remind us who we are
And that we are not alone when we're walking in the dark
I hope someday we'll sit down together
And laugh with each other about these days, these days
(“These Days”, by Rudimental)
When the ships met off the coast of Bornholm, around two weeks after receiving a poorly worded message from Thorfinn (Leifsson, not Karlsefni), the two never-named heirs to Artorius' plan did not see or shake hands. Three large ships unfurled royal banners, guiding an even larger vessel - the one on which the Emperor of the North Sea was to meet, and every two or three leagues another Danish vessel joined the fleet. Ultimately, they approached the shores of Hovgard Farm in a strange military escort of thirteen ships circling a tiny merchant one as if Norse royalty were there, when the disgruntled merchant captain asked the convoy to "make room so they could sail in peace".
Six long days in the dark, restless waters of the Danish Baltic, and Thorfinn and Canute never saw each other.
Again and again, Einar leaned on the edge of old Leif's small craft, staring at the gray horizon at the long shadow of the royal ship in silence, an annoyed expression displayed on his gentle face. "Don't tell me he's shy," the big guy let out a stammer.
Thorfinn used the grimy, damp cloth of the sail to conceal his brief chuckle. "I only asked for a favor. I didn't expect King Canute himself to come." Over his shoulder, he smirked at his beloved brother. "Is all this longing?"
Einar flushed as he realized he had been overheard. He shrugged, looking away, "It's a cocky attitude and pisses me off. Are we friends or not?!"
Thorfinn looked down at his chest, as if seriously considering the question, scratching his cheek. Gudrid came running from the sternpost, arms frantic and face red against the sea breeze: "There's an unknown vessel following us from the other side of the slope! Leif says they must be pirates!"
Thorfinn's expression immediately hardened. "Let's do as agreed: you, Leif, Karli and Karli's Mama hide by the mast step while Einar, Hild and Bug Eyes position themselves at the ends."
"And you?", Bug Eyes was already running towards the keel.
"I’ll remain in the takke and wait for the moment to speak with their leader."
Hild's booming voice came from the other end of the boat: "I don't think you'll get that opportunity."
The other adults scowled at Hild and, in unison, looked to the southeast, where the dark waves met the wet skerry of Hovgard. There, four Danish ships already surrounded the pirate vessel on the southern side, and another large ship from the royal fleet passed Thorfinn's Crew at intimidating speed.
Bug Eyes turned to Thorfinn: "That friend of yours, the King... Is also into a good chitchat?"
Thorfinn allowed himself only a few moments of stupefied contemplation of the scene before he plunged into the open sea and propelled his body toward the beach.
"Wait! Don't kill them!"
On the small beach partially covered with undergrowth, a legion of spears surrounded a group of perhaps a dozen bound seamen, clearly tired and resigned to the fate given to them by the prosecutor, judge and executioner of the sentence - the Emperor of the North Sea.
Thorfinn's chest heaved visibly as he raced down the beach, his eyes darting from the group of hapless pirates, past the sword-wielding warrior in the air, and finally hovering over the powerful man in the black cloak.
King Canute, or just Canute - the eyes as clear as the sky and cold as a frozen lake - finally found again. Thorfinn took a deep breath in. "Canute, I asked for your protection. I didn't say to kill my pursuers."
The tension spread among the warriors lined behind their commander, but the man himself was unfazed. "According to our investigation, these robbers are remnants of the Jomsvikings. If I leave them alive, they'll continue to threaten the peace of our waters", the old friend's voice was distant and unyielding.
If Canute had deemed those lost Vikings unworthy of his Paradise, it was Thorfinn's job to fill in the gaps. "Let me talk to them."
Night was falling over them, pushing the last sun rays into the orangish-purple horizon, contouring the tents on the beach with a colorful shimmering light. Thorfinn spent a few hours from afternoon into evening with the would-be-enemy pirate captain, Vargr, and his group of misfits. Endearing and honest men… for a band of Vikings.
From a safe distance, the king and the merchant exchanged furtive stares, and only when Thorfinn couldn’t discern the black of Canute’s cloak from his features was the moment he got up resolute to return to his small watercraft.
Three steps into the sea, a hand was felt over his tired shoulders.
“Going swimming at night?”
Regardless of being Canute’s, or maybe especially because it was Canute’s, Thorfinn couldn’t restrain the instinctive self defense stand he took by feeling that hand over him.
“The ship is there”, Thorfinn said matter-of-fact, looking over his shoulder.
Against the dying sunset rays, the king’s body trembling oddly made him look like exhaling a supernatural furious aura. Looking closely, Thorfinn could tell Canute was, once again, trying - and failing - to keep composure instead of giggling.
Clearing his throat not so elegantly, the nobleman returned his hand to his side. “Foolishness. You’re this fleet’s escort, and as this escort is passing the night on land, evidently you’ll sleep in a tent that my men arranged for you.”
Thorfinn tilted his head enough for his still intact ear to almost touch his trapezius. “Is it already set?”
Canute’s face lit up. “As we speak.”
“Good. Those sailors will need a place to rest tonight”, the trader motioned ahead as if the matter was decided then and there. He barely contained his own smile of amusement hearing the king sighing exasperatedly behind him.
“I have no qualms in accommodating those pirates as you’ve become their master-”, as the merchant visibly flinched at the word ‘master’, Canute briefly paused before resuming his argument. “There is plenty of material to set up tents for everyone, it’s stupidity to get yourself wet instead of resting ashore.”
Thorfinn hummed in response and turned back in order to face his friend. “I have furs on the ship. I don’t want to bother you more than my single request.”
Canute’s smile was a blur between fondness and irritation. “Far from bothering - ah!... I should know well you don’t listen to reason–”
Not even the wind whistles and the waves’ swirling sounds could mask the loud noises of a stomach growling. Both men freezed wide-eyed, mesmerized at it.
“Dinner is my treat, as well”, the king chanted in a sly smile.
Looking elsewhere utterly sheepish, Thorfinn crossed his arms. “Spare us seven bowls, then.”
“Seven?”, Canute regretted echoing so quickly.
Thorfinn performed a genuine thoughtful pose with an index at his chin. “Eight, actually. I cannot forget Karli’s Mama.”
Half an hour later, Canute would get to know who was Karli’s Mama.
On one side of the crackling flame of the bonfire next to the royal tent was the king, ever so majestically tall and absolute in his long cape, sided by two of the fleet’s captains looking as gloomy as their lord. On the opposite side were Einar a bit ahead, partially covering a small woman with very curious eyes and an elder with kind features, an astute dog lining with a googly-eyed man with a foreigner-looking outfit holding a peppy baby, and a quiet bowwoman at his shoulder. Between both groups standed Thorfinn, helding a bright, comfy and childish smile.
Canute had many odd audiences in his latest years as sovereign, but none of those made him feel that level of awkwardness than getting to meet what Thorfinn and Einar called “their family”. Nothing that a long time as a regal leader couldn’t be overcome with poise. “Let’s all sit, dine and drink. No formalities.”
With a few hesitant glances, Einar took the first bowl and served something to the dog– Karli’s Mama, while the droll man nicknamed Bug Eyes sat comfortably with the petite woman and the elder, serving for themselves with ease. The kid walked without much balance between them, then stretched his little arms towards Thorfinn to pick him up. The bowwoman, Hild, took a basin and sat apart from the group, seeming to be fixated on Thorfinn and the others despite looking uninterested in their chatting.
Thorfinn ate in silence (and eagerness) with his child on his lap, when Einar got a second for him and came to his friend’s side, but directing his pleasant smile towards the king. “Finally greeting the plebe, Emperor?”
Finishing his portion, Canute internally thanked Einar’s remark, the only one he knew beforehand. “You’re rich enough to trade with the Far East, so it’s laughable to call yourself a humble commoner.”
“Hey, Thorfinn is the business man here, I’m just part of the crew”, the redhead accepted the clapback between spoonfuls, then nudged his brother-in-arms teasingly.
“We’re not owners of all these riches. We still have to pay our debts to Mr. Halfdan”, Thorfinn turned serious to Einar. Canute couldn’t avoid the smile fighting his facial muscles.
“And I suppose the costs of the expedition to Somewhere Not Here will eat the funds you’ll have left, right?”
To that comment, the first-time chandler duo exchanged comical stares. The king merely sighed, half-amused.
After having a fill to his cup, Canute tried a more positive addendum: “You just hired a dozen sailors, and more expenses are coming, more than you anticipated. I could…”
“Absolutely not”, Thorfinn didn’t take his eyes off his child while feeding him.
As if he predicted the unsaid proposal rejection, the noble relaxed on his seat with a shrugging and a thin smile.
“Yeah”, Einar held his arms with fingers crossed behind his nape, “You do your thing and we do ours. That’s the deal.”
Canute was about to say something without thinking when a weird squee and what looked like a bolting arrow zooming prompted Thorfinn to take a fighter stance, just like the old days. It brought the king back to reality.
Across the bonfire, Bug Eyes and Gudrid were trying - and failing - to pretend they weren’t paying attention to the conversation Einar and Thorfinn had with the King of Denmark and England, while murmuring between them in hard guessing.
“I remember that a whole trouble happened on the farm father and I found Thorfinn because the farmer had a beef with the king and everyone there would die if Thorfinn didn’t step up. They have a past or something.”
Gudrid peaked between her spoon and the bowl’s outline, the shimmering enlightened faces of Thorfinn and King Canute next to each other. “Do you mean… Thorfinn fought the royal army alone? Like in Jomsborg?!”
Bug Eyes’ expression was too serious for a gossiper. “Probably. He looked totally fucked up when he got on our ship, so I can only imagine how the others got, if they made alive. He’s Thorfinn Karlsefni, after all.”
Behind them, a muttered sound of wood hitting on wood caught their attention - Hild turned her back entirely, her basin half filled on the grassy sand.
Gudrid dismissed that by turning back with a wide, bright smile. “So it’s a case in which two men fight each other and after defeat, both become companions? Like, ‘yes Thorfinn, you’re stronger than me but you showed me kindness, so I’ll devote myself to you until the day I perish’...” Pause for a spoonful, not enough for Bug Eyes to interrupt her. “Ahh! The manly struggles! I wanna hug him, poor king!”
Bug Eyes’ voice went flat and acidic: “Okay, we heard too many war epics at Miklagard - don’t go imagining a totally different story! The very fact one day Thorfinn dared to attack that man is the reason he was sent to slavery, to begin with.”
“Ah! Is that so?! I wanna kick him!”, Gudrid was shushed by Bug Eyes to calm down. “Why have I never heard of this? This guy sucks!”
Bug Eyes shushed desperately again, peaking to the other side of the bonfire before lowering his voice to a murmur. “Before that, Thorfinn was the king’s personal bodyguard. I don’t know the details, but even Thorkell the Tall was an enemy of Thorfinn and the Danes back then. I can only guess they were through a lot together amidst the war. Not only Thorfinn made a name as the Warrior Karlsefni, but Canute crowned himself and was able to take over England and unite the Dane lords after in record time. It’s legendary, but also suspicious.”
Gudrid’s expression turned from dander to apprehension. Looking in the opposite direction, she tried to organize her thoughts by watching her lover, her big friend and the strange benefactor of their escort smiling to each other.
“There’s also a relation between the Jomsvikings’ succession issue and Thorkell’s official decree mentioning the king. We know now that Thorfinn and Ylva have noble blood from their mother, so this all sounds like noblemen’s intrigue”, Bug Eyes lifted his index finger with certainty.
Pouting dramatically, Gudrid finished her first bowl with an endearing aggressiveness. “King or not, he better not try to tangle Thorfinn in any stupid battles again.”
Bug Eyes arched an eyebrow in disbelief: “Or what? Gonna square up the Emperor of the North Sea with a ladle?”
“...Shut up.”
“I mean, that worked with Thorkell the Tall.”
“Shut up or the ladle’s going your way.”
As her friend finally complied, Gudrid served herself a second and ate resolutely, until, at some point, started staring at Canute between spoonfuls again. Her gaze became so fixed that Bug Eyes elbowed her to stop. “Hmn… Yeah”, she concluded.
Bug Eyes squinted and questioned cautiously “‘yeah’ what, Gudrid?”
“He’s handsome, but my Thorfinn is way cuter.”
With that, Bug Eyes gave up on the rest of his dinner and put his bowl on the ground, pushing it towards Karli’s Mama. The dog didn’t give it any attention whatsoever. “It’s a fact: you’re an idiot.”
With the flight of the spoon zooming towards Bug Eyes and his subsequent squee, Canute’s, Thorfinn’s and Einar’s eyes on them ended wherever chance to keep gossiping. It didn’t help that the royal guards - and Thorfinn - immediately took defensive stances, generating an awkward atmosphere that would be comical given its absurdity, weren’t for how seriously threatening it felt to all those groups gathered together to hear that sound.
It was time for the king to take matters into his own hands again, since one of his men was obviously eying Thorfinn’s bowwoman companion with utter distrust. “Thank you for the company to dine tonight. It’s getting darker and colder, and I suppose the child needs an embrace to sleep. Three tents were set for you close to mine, there are furs and chests to be used in each of them. I may now excuse myself and take your boss with me for a walk.”
“He’s not our ‘boss’”, Bug Eyes remarked in a low voicetone, earning a stern look from his father Leif for it.
Leaving them without looking back, Thorfinn followed the king close behind towards the beach side. The camping had plenty of light coming from the several bonfires, loud chattering and even some men presumably singing drunk, so having some distance to notice the maritime wind and the salty air felt like a welcomed blessing to them.
“What are we talking about?”, Thorfinn broke the silence after a few minutes of wandering.
“Apparently, about me tangling you in another stupid battle”, Canute turned to his friend, an enigmatic gaze held in his face.
Thorfinn shrugged. “They got a point, don’t they?”
Both men held each other’s eyes intensely in mutual challenge, until the king turned his head to the ocean horizon. He spoke in deep thought: “You never told them about our past?”
“I did. At least, to Einar and my family in Iceland. I’ve met Karli, Gudrid and Hild–”, the trader’s voice slightly trembled in a sentiment Canute couldn’t pinpoint, “later, and saw no point in bringing that up.”
“And the Bugged Eyes”, the king complemented.
“Just… Bug Eyes. His name’s Thorfinn, too.” As Canute’s eyebrows went comically high, Thorfinn quickly changed to an annoyed demeanor: “Don’t act like it’s uncommon to have folks with the same name when your family tree is filled with unoriginal ‘homages’.”
Canute deflected with a lighter comment: “And now he and your wife are building a saga with the few clues they have. It’s endearing, I would be glad to give them some material.”
“Are you going to tell them you were a coward hiding behind your late retainer and used to cooking as a hobby?”
When the mute and thin-lined lips taller man stopped walking to fully face his friend, Canute got a full dejavú feeling by seeing Thorfinn smirk like a brat. It wouldn’t do good to his heart. “I was going to tell them…”, a little thrilling pause as Thorfinn’s smirk grew wider, “...how the man they travel with in his youth achieved great feats, like rescuing the Crown’s heir from one of the most dangerous armies this world ever met, amidst fire and flames, and facing its demonic captain, Thorkell. He even said, word by word, ‘I’m here to save you, just wait there’, like in a fairytale.”
Thorfinn seemed a bit confused hearing Canute, like it took moments for him to remember that very episode. The king, as if reading his friend’s mind, waited a little to sink in, then concluded, a little cocky: “But now I’m definitely going to be much more selective about my memories of Thorfinn Karlsefni.”
The shorter man grunted. “Not you also using that stupid name…”
“It’s the epithet you’ve earned.”
“Well, I don’t want that. Never introduced me like that. Never will.”
“So, to be reborn, you also buried the past.”
“Because I’m not living in the past.”
There was something in Thorfinn’s phrase that didn’t convince the king. Canute felt an urgent irritation, something that rushed his body against his will, like every time he talked with that ordinary, yet one-of-a-kind Viking. Again, his body was moving on its own to try to reach Thorfinn, to try to touch the life in it and desperately shake it from inside out.
Midway movement, Canute was able, if not to control himself, at least to make his gesture gentler; so instead of the man’s shoulders, his hands only grabbed Thorfinn’s.
“Your past is not only a burden”, he said in a murmur more to himself than to Thorfinn, while firmly and shakingly holding his friend’s hands. As Thorfinn was frozen still but made no efforts to get away from it, Canute took the cue to catch one of the hands and slippped the glove off of it.
It was a sight to behold - the apparent glowing in each other’s hands against the dark environment, tangled with uncertainty and making evident the differences between them. Canute’s long and languid fingers with few calluses at the pads, smooth pale skin and delicate arching; holding Thorfinn’s left hand like it was made of cristal, that smaller fist adorned with short and larger fingers, slightly tan looking ever darker in contrast to dozens of small cuts all around, nasty scars and hardened wounded texture.
Canute’s thumb passed to draw lines over each little scar as if reading an untold story by those randomic whitish lines. “You also saved lives with this hand. You keep doing it now, more than I do, which is a very painful journey backwards. I don’t think anything is more fitting for all the pain you endured so far than the name ‘Karlsefni’.”
Thorfinn’s eyebrows knitted together, his eyes downcast enough to be illuminated by the sea reflection. His thoughts were rambling among horrors he witnessed, or did, or did nothing to prevent, and his heartbeat speeding up could be felt on his pulse at the hand Canute was holding dearly. It was so much pain, and no resolution in sight... But Canute was the Emperor of the North Sea, and he could do much more than any other burgher, so he bent down until his lips touched that treasured hand.
Not that a single kiss would take away all the pain in the world, but it was a start.
Satisfied, the king straightened up his back and smiled at his companion, who had a flat expression but was red all over. Canute didn’t let Thorfinn’s hand, instead, he held it tighter.
As the sea whistled behind them, Thorfinn managed to keep his dignity. “...You’re still needlessly overdramatic about every single comment.”
“Oh?...”, the royal smugness made Thorfinn roll out his eyes to the seaside. Canute didn’t shy away from replying: “Despite your sweet smiling face being news to me, your awkwardness about earning others’ fondness is high as I remember.”
“It’s… no…”
“Even having your own child and a woman?”
“...Heavy.” Thorfinn took a deep breath. “It’s too heavy to be this light.”
Canute shot his friend with a suddenly serious, piercing gaze. “I see…”
They walked a few feet in complete silence side by side, letting the wind blows fill the silence between them for a few minutes. It felt odd, as Canute kept Thorfinn’s uncovered hand between his both ones, half sheltering it from the cold night and half using it as a link to guide their steps. Both men looked to the sand grains a little ahead their nocturnal shadows.
Eventually, Canute started again, in a more calculated voice tone a “Those people partnering you on this journey…”, to which Thorfinn raised his head to look the king in the eyes. Satisfied with the attention, Canute finished his idea with “I can see in the way they look at you, in their eyes - the light. The trust. The devotion.”
The merchant’s eyes quickly downcasted to focus on their shadows on the sand. The king’s voice echoed from a little behind: “These people tenderly love you, freely and simply. Will you accept these feelings?”
“What ‘bout you?”
Taken aback, Canute’s eyes went wide as a baby’s. “...?! Well…”
“Your wife and kids?”, Thorfinn specified.
“Oh! Ah…”, a little melodic giggle escaped Canute. “Hmn… There is a certain bond there. It is far from a virtuous love, born from vice and vengeance.” As he paused to think of something, he also stopped walking for a moment. “It still has its own sort of sweetness”, he concluded in a thin smile.
That seemed to brighten Thorfinn’s mood. “Vice and vengeance? Sounds like more material for Bug Eyes’ epic tale.”
As a reflexive response, Canute smiled wider. “Yes, maybe for another time?”
“I’m not here on vacation, Canute”, the shorter man flatly dismissed the other.
Still smiling coyly, the king tilted his head to his left shoulder and closed his eyes in a satisfied humming. “Fair. Wanna hear about my greatest adventure instead?”
“One that involves an obscene amount of blood and intricate treason schemes? Pass.” Thorfinn had heard many last time he encountered Thorkell.
“Last solstice, I took my boys fishing.”
Thorfinn’s mouth went agape. “...I can’t believe– Actually, I do. I can see that.” It was only fitting that a man who was dearly raised by Ragnar would eventually dwell on such earthly sort of father-son activities. Despite Sweyn…
“It was nothing more than a selfish type of fun, as most forms of love are…”, Canute was holding his gaze towards nowhere ahead, but forced Thorfinn’s hand between his to make them interrupt their walking. “...But you.”
“Me?”
The king sighed. “Are you going to force my tongue? Well…”
The fight or flight urgence bolted through Thorfinn as Canute turned fully to him and used the held hand to cut the distance. A second of hesitation flew like an eternity in-between, when Canute’s eyes lifted up from Thorfinn’s dangerous mouth-level zone to some point above, and then Thorfinn braced himself for whatever would come.
The king merely kissed Thorfinn’s forehead, so sweetly it was almost a godfather’s blessing.
“...Thank you”, Canute muttered as distancing himself.
Thorfinn childishly put both hands over his forehead, making himself look even smaller. “For what?”
The pout in his lips was the last drop for Canute - his body almost fell to the back in a typical loud and extensive laugh the king seemed to often gift Thorfinn these days.
“...For… For existing”, he kept drawing lines over the scarred torso of the other’s hand. “For proving to me I’m still a fool and that I can be wrong on my assumptions.” He paused the invisible drawing on skin when his index reached a specially wider cut by Thorfinn’s thumb phalanx. “Sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?”, the merchant arched an eyebrow, to Canute’s amusement.
It didn’t feel awkward anymore, it was them again being them. They were at a good distance from the camping, and as if not to invite unwanted scouters their way, Canute and Thorfinn ceased the walking and stood a few minutes watching the ships’ deep dark silhouettes against the night. For maybe ten minutes or less, they could stop time, and forget titles and epithets, wars and paradises, and just be there in silence enjoying the calm breathing coming from both. As Thorfinn’s left hand was freezing no matter the warmth of the regal fingers over it, Canute sighed, breaking it softly the short period of what they could call peace.
Squeezing it a last time, the nobleman put the glove back to its original place, commenting lightly: “Time’s not on our side, we better go back.”
They turned back to the camping’s direction, following the path of footprints in the sand they just have made up to that point, and messing the work with new ones.
Thorfinn huffed, losing patience: “Cut the whole poetry aside, Canute. Am I here to be some sort of entertainment or pawn? Having none of that, you bastard.”
“Neither, Thorfinn. We’re partners. Einar said we have a deal and I intend to honor it.”
“Partners?!”
The very indignation on Thorfinn’s voicetone genuinely got Canute by surprise.
The merchant continued, his hands, now free, raised at his sides frantically: “We’re friends. Are you an idiot?”
The seriousness coming from Thorfinn was definitely too much for the king’s heart. Canute didn’t just laugh, he laughed with tears coming out. He sped up a few feet ahead and shrugged theatrically.
“I wasn’t sure if I could call you ‘friend’, but you showed me last time we've met that you were no foe either. I was really a fool then, and deeply relieved to realize it. Guess I was jesting again.”
“I meant to talk to you because that’s what I could have done. Is it weird to try to talk to people? We do that all the time.”
Canute’s rhythmic barely contained laughing was the only response Thorfinn had. It didn’t fail to annoy him to no end. “See? You’re doing this again! It make me look like a joker.”
The king took a breath to turn his chuckle into a simple smile. “Well, I do take you seriously, if that’s your worry. It’s not that it’s funny, it’s simply a fascinating invocation of pure joy. Dare say, heavenly.” Thorfinn didn’t seem convinced by Canute’s suspiciously arabesque compliments, so the king admitted “Okay, it is funny.”
Thorfinn embraced the foolery, crossing his arms pretending disappointment: “Look at me, getting mocked by the very princess I once saved from distress. That’s Thorfinn Karlsefni for you.”
“A prince”, the king had the last straw of patience to gently correct.
“A princess.”
Canute smiled fondly. “Not like you just started saving lives recently.”
Thorfinn’s smile cut to perplexity. Canute turned to the sea, resuming slowly walking back. His voice was cut between wind blows: “It’s not the rescue. It was the way you were… The way you are.”
Canute stared back to Thorfinn, waiting for his friend to pick up the enigma. “I never had anyone treating me like that before. You couldn’t stand me not standing for myself and raising up my voice, not because I should as a royal, but because I should as a person.”
Thorfinn avoided Canute’s gaze. “Pretty sure I was just being a jerk.”
“Indeed”, the fact the king agreed made Thorfinn irk. “But tell me if I am wrong about that.”
Thorfinn’s piercing gaze was all the confirmation Canute needed.
“I was long dead before meeting you at first, and slowly decayed after you were gone then.” The noblement sped up, forcing Thorfinn to accompany his pace. “I guess a man cannot die thrice, because when I found you alive on that farm, I didn’t come back to life - I ascended.”
“I’m not very acquainted with the Bible, so, please, be normal”, Canute’s listener tried to keep the emotions at bay. He knew what the king meant - the feeling of when someone steps into your life to remind you of who you are.
“So, to clarify: no, I won’t try to tangle you in any stupid battles”, the monarch’s cape was already illuminated by the bright points from the camping fires. He didn’t face Thorfinn to conclude: “I just want to make sure that you… Are out there. As long as you’re somewhere… Anywhere… This good feeling won’t go away. Go West, go South, North for all I care… I’ll just run in the opposite direction and embrace this old world knowing you’re also doing it.”
Thorfinn finally catched up at the king’s side, able to see his oscillating, yet resolute gaze. Canute’s words were coming out trembling as well: “Even repeating mistakes, my soul immediately calms down just knowing you exist somewhere, and that I’m not alone anymore. Is that too selfish?”
It was Thorfinn’s turn to catch the king’s hands on his, giving them a reassuring grip. “You know, you also should try to talk to people without filters. Like Einar, Bug Eyes or Gudrid. You’ll cut away a lot of work too.”
Thorfinn realized he did say something simply unimaginable for Canute, as the king’s expression was pure confusion and painful terror. The gears inside that ruler were turning to try to visualize himself acting like any of Thorfinn’s loud companions, making his concentration look pitiful and comical. The trader couldn’t hold his laugh back, and it streamed flawlessly from his very soul, like a forgotten song. It made Thorfinn feel light again.
Canute tried his best to keep his poise (despite its uselessness when it came about Thorfinn): “I’ll have your suggestion in mind for future reference.” Smiling softly, he turned his attention to the hands invertedly held again, bringin the pairs to their eye level. “How could I not value your otherworldly ability to prove me a fool again and again?”
Ah, Canute’s smile was too bright when not the usual fake. Thorfinn didn’t care much about the king’s looks, but it was admittedly something. “You’re too eloquent for someone so close to my face, pal.”
And the magic was gone, when Thorfinn’s comment made the usual regal smile surface again. “And you’re too red for an early Spring’s night, but I choose not to comment.”
“If you don’t take a step back…”
“What?”
Thorfinn was a gentle man, but an even stronger one now. It was too simple for him to push the king’s hands - and arms, and whole body - a little down to be able to kiss his forehead, on the very cold steel of the regal diadem. Canute’s face went blank and stayed it for many seconds.
Freeing the king’s hands, Thorfinn gifted his friend a shrug and turned on his feet to resume walking. “I know you damn well to recognizing when your defiance is just a play.”
“...you–”
“Mistakes are bound to happen, but we must keep trying. That’s the real deal.”
And, turning one last time before going back to the camp nearing them, he mouthed a “thank you, too” with a handwave.
This was how the never-titled heirs were doing these days.