Chapter Text
Jutland, October 1018
Thorfinn said his piece, and Canute was changed forever.
But before Thorfinn could run away with his dark-haired friend, never to be found again, the King wanted to catch up with his old companion.
"I'd like to have a word with you privately!"
He gestured the guards not to follow him and Thorfinn gave Einar a reassuring nod, letting him go as he would catch up later.
They both entered the royal tent, Canute going around the large wooden table situated in the middle, full of parchments and maps, and leaned against it, on the opposite side of the tent, his back facing Thorfinn. The latter stood still at the entrance, unshaken by the tension between them, hoping that the King didn't have any second thoughts.
"So, tell me Thorfinn, how did you do it?", the royal cut through the silence. Thorfinn gasped, not exactly knowing what to answer. Canute took this as a sign to clarify himself and went on, his voice merely above whisper. "How come you became such a pacifistic warrior? Last time I've met you... you were an unstoppable blizzard. With eyes full of hatred and anguish. A soul condemned to damnation, I used to tell myself."
Scenes of a younger Thorfinn played in the back of his mind; he was always frowning, even when introduced to each other, never smiling, never trying to bond with the others around him in a healthy way; he was always quickly in for a kill, thoughtlessly pursuing heinous acts if it meant getting a chance to once more, get his butt handed to him by his boss, but still not stopping; restless, not eating enough, not taking care of himself, his back against all world and love. Canute chuckled, "Have you finally come to terms with the fact, that pursuing whatever you did years ago, would not bring you anywhere?"
Thorfinn fought back a few tears of regret, his tear ducts too wrecked anyways, as if he could envision the images in Canute's mind in that very moment. Ever stop regretting, that he will not. And he was convinced that Canute must resent him for turning on him the way he did — after all, Thorfinn's revenge was not Canute's business. He did not have to pay for it.
The shorter man took a few steps towards the other, still keeping a considerable distance, and he was determined to recall his past.
"I realize how I must have seemed to you... and the others. Truth is that, after I became a slave, I was hollow. I didn't find anything good in life. Whatever force compelled me to keep eating, drinking, breathing... I'm grateful for it. Otherwise I'd just have laid on the ground and await the end of time."
Canute turned his ear in interest, still not facing Thorfinn yet, and murmured "Go on."
"Then I met people, who treated me with kindness. The same people who you've started a war against." Not a delicate choice of words. "The tall man who accompanied me today. He has been a victim, of people like me. His family and home was forcefully taken from them, by pillagers like us. Yet... Yet..." Thorfinn felt his voice shaking. "He would always wake me up when I'd have a nightmare. He taught me how to grow wheat, how to bring life into a world full of death. He showed me the meaning of compassion, and forgiveness. He is a brother to me. And not only him, there are other people whom I've met on the farm, who showed me there's good in life and helped me find a purpose. Which is why I'm standing up for them today. Salvation comes through-", and he paused, voice too shaky already, trying to regain composure.
"-companions?" Canute interjected much to the other's luck, his head turned and eyes staring idly at the ground. He absent-mindedly brought his fingers to his scar, caressing it softly as if it could ever heal, and spoke, more to himself than to the other, "If only you didn't cut my face—..."
Thorfinn stunned, but shut up, leaving the silent implication float between them for a while.
[...]
What good are what-ifs, anyways?
[...]
Canute brought their contemplation to a halt, disrupting the silence. "I am not going to war because I enjoy it. Not at all. In fact, I despise what I've become. I've been born into the curse of the monarchy, there's little choice that I have. Gods, I'm even seeing my father's head talking to me, first in the shadows of the night, now in full daylight. He even compelled me to kill you today! I swear I will become insane one of these days!"
Canute's voice rose and shook as he confessed. Thorfinn narrowed his eyes at him. The stoic emperor was talking to him so openly, like the privacy broke the thick walls between them. So he was also having visions of the past, just like he himself had. But did he have someone to soothe them as well?
"Trust me when I'm telling you, my heart breaks every time I'm raising swords and taking lives-..."
"Then why not stop?"
"A King can't! And you are fully aware of that. But right now, in this too fleeting a moment, it is not the King who's speaking to you, Thorfinn", he was now finally facing the shorter man, approaching him until he could have a better look at his old -probably the closest thing he could call a- friend. "It is Canute. Probably the last time ever."
Thorfinn stunned once again, not expecting this course of their conversation. And Canute's voice now lacked his usual monarchial composure. But he finally got it. He was not asked on a political rendez-vouz this evening, the invitation was only a whim.
He raised his eyes, watching the other young man turned ruler. His icy blue eyes betrayed vile things, but if he looked deeper, he could see the pair of eyes of a teenager, lost and scared, the first time he ceremoniously removed his helmet in front of everyone. His hair was short now, probably tired of being mistaken for a pansy, or even worse, a lady — but Thorfinn still took the liberty of re-imagining his long golden locks, covering his shy face in defense, and how he would always play with a random lock when he was nervous. He did not admit it to himself back then, but he was marveled by the sight of it, making him feel funny things, his hand always reaching his dirty, hay-colored hair in dismay at himself. And then he could not help but notice his beard in amusement, he is really trying so hard to pass as a man, eh? It still did not mask the softness of his skin, and of his mouth, the same one which was quivering before Thorfinn years ago, trying to get to him and convince him he was not at all a coward.
Truly a handsome man, Thorfinn thought, and he was almost ashamed of sitting here in front of him, dirty from all the fighting, running and farming, his face a distorted bloody mess.
Then he chuckled, no malice this time. "Not bad, princess! You really learned how to speak your mind, after all. I'm proud of you!"
Canute slipped a smile before dragging his whole face into a pout. "How dare you speak to me like that, you rogue?!", and he gently punched Thorfinn in the chest.
Thorfinn let out a loud groan and grabbed the freshly hit spot, shaking and lowering his head. Canute panicked and grabbed his shoulders, trying to search for his face — or what was visible of it, apologizing in the meantime; Thorfinn has been beaten into a pulp not too long ago, he should have known better. But after a long-dragged moment, Thorfinn let his hand fall limp to his side and this time he was shaking with giggle, bringing his eyes back to Canute's in an end of his own charade. "Still as soft as ever, princess, you really thought you could pack a punch against me?" and then hearty laughter ensued.
Canute knew that if he were still the 17-years-old boy, he would feel indignant about this display; but now he could tell Thorfinn was just being playful, and he himself craved these rare moments of joy, with someone who did not give a damn about his status. So he laughed, too.
"You know, Thorfinn", he began, hands still on his shoulders, feeling light tingles underneath, "I'm impressed by your change. But I have to admit, I admired you a bit before as well, even if you scared the pants off of me. We were the same age, but you were so strong, quick, witty and stoic. You had everything I lacked, and desired. Which is why I tried speaking out to you... To someone else, for the first time in my life. So you wouldn't think badly about me or anything."
Thorfinn blushed at his statement, he had never heard a compliment before, at least not when he was... like that. Unworthy of compliments.
Nobody ever said a good thing to Thorfinn during his viking years. The best he could hear was a congratulations, whenever he'd pass a mission successfully, but then again, that didn't mean much. That only meant he once again brought harm to someone, namely innocents. But nobody truly admired him, and hearing this right now, almost brought tears to his eyes. How blinded he was by rage, and how much he missed out in life.
"And I'm truly sorry about-...", Canute started, snapping him out of his reverie, only to stop short and let out a sigh.
"Don't. No need to mention him. I'm not holding a grudge against you, you had your reasons, my own plot had nothing to do with you. Whatever you did then, and why, is your own burden to carry, you don't need mine as well.
And while we're at confessionals, I'm also sorry for how I treated you, Canute. You never deserved it, in fact you deserved all the kindness in the world. And I know how lonely you must have felt after Ragnar's death. I knew perfectly what it was like. I could've been there for you..."
"But you kind of were, Thorfinn, in your own quirky ways... Maybe you never realized it, but you were nicer to me when nobody was around. I didn't forget anything.
It's such a pity my men battered you up. I would have loved to see your face, how your eyes have changed. How you would look at me right now."
[...]
They kept staring at each other for a long breeze of time, too short in reality; Canute trying to decipher anything he could from Thorfinn's hidden glance. Thorfinn indulging himself in the sight of supremacy sitting in front of him, opening the windows of his soul to let out lost, forgotten thoughts and feelings. But this state of frozen in time was about to soon come to a halt, as the sounds of men cursing and shouting at each other around the tent reminded them of the here and now. Not having much time left on his hands Canute sharply brought Thorfinn closer to him, whispering in his ear as if someone could hear a great secret which nobody is allowed to.
"I wish, somewhere in this lifetime, that I will meet you again, Thorfinn Karlsefni, you truly are an amazing man!"
Thorfinn felt his heart skip a beat and smiled as much as his swollen lips allowed him too.
"And you too are an incredible man, Canute...
I wish I will once again be invited to the most exquisite rabbit soup."
At this, Canute couldn't stop the bright smile spreading from one ear to the other. Thorfinn could see it with the corner of his eyes and it warmed him. The same one as they were sitting at that table, enjoying the meal together, faces young and carefree, together with Ragnar like a happy little family. Before...
[...]
Canute quickly pulled away and retracted his hands, the boyish light in his eyes shadowed by a sadness of departure. They both were like the sun and the moon after all. Thorfinn took this as a sign to leave, lingering for just another short moment to carve Canute's changed image into his mind, then turned away, slipping a "take care!" before disappearing.
The King flinched, but didn't say anything. He couldn't go back again now, else he might not be able to retrieve himself. He heard the tent entrance flap, steps blending in with the sounds of the night waves and men chatting vulgarly.
[......]
The next day, as he was sailing away from the farm, he let the brightest smile warm up the world in front of him. There was Love amidst the Darkness after all, and he had the honor to look into His eyes.