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greenofhue · 1 month

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Fond

another short thorfinn fic!! This takes place in the Baltic Sea Arc, the night after the jomsvikings fight/after they were disbanded, I didn't edit it much so beware of any typos!

Thorfinn lies asleep on the bed. Back facing me; his blonde hair merging with the furs, the cushions filled with golden straw. Firey shadows dancing across him; warm and focused. I can't help but be reminded of the dream I keep having. The wood crackles, tumbling over as it cools. He stirrs. Suddenly I am frozen in place. Yet, his movement is slow and sluggish. Slight relief fills me, as he sleeps- chest rising and falling- I think of his ribs. I think of the bruises.

I promised myself not to dwell. But perhaps it was the combination of fatigue and sight of him that caused my mind to fall back to the thought. The dream. We were both running through some field. I could never remember where, but I knew he was taking me somewhere. I keep running after him. Reaching, but he was so fast, and all I could see was the back of his head slipping away into the field. I could still feel that feeling after I woke; that he was going somewhere that doesn't need me. I couldn't help but feel it now even as he slept. It pulses in my heart, this terrible feeling.

I see that glimmer in his eyes all the time. The ocean, the woodlands; distant, eager atonement. His words are simpler, heavier, engraved with more than he lets on.

It constantly made my head spin; emotions I hadn't even registered that I had about him. Fear, frustration. I worry too much and I say too little. I wonder if it is because I fear it won't matter. The sight of him, full of arrows on his knees. He is chasing after something, something that isn't meant to be. Eventually it will fall through; this belief. I can't help but hope that I'm wrong.

"It's stupid." The words are airy, and yet ripped out of me. Full with the weight of something as they leave mouth. "I keep seeing it- this day. That we all loose you."

Impulsively, regretfully I draw my hand out from the warmth of my own furs. Resting it along his spine. Warm; enveloped. And I am following, counting his steady breaths as if he were something that could vanish at any moment. As if these breaths are numbered.

My words continue, being pulled; drawn out of my chest, "You're becoming careless. Wreckless with your life." I pause brows knit together, mulling over my thoughts before I speak. "I can't loose y-"

The furs shift with a weight pushed into my hand as he leans into my touch. Panicked, I remove myself. Falling deeper into my chair.

I felt a slight sense of loss when my hand left his back. I knew that my touch was just purely out of care, but I couldn't help but want more. As my hand left his skin, I felt a little colder. I watch as he stirrs, drifting; leaning into my dissipating warmth, into my now foregone embrace. Yet for that moment, the sudden fear, and frustration felt so small. The feeling of that was a bit intimidating, but familiar all at once.

I low rumble filled the room as he spoke. His voice was soft, filled with conviction. And I was startled by how much truth was hidden behind his words as he spoke.

"I would never leave you guys."

Dread shoots up my spine. Had he heard everything? No. He would've said something else. The realization sets in. 'you guys' - Not 'you.' I mentally punch myself for being so stupid. So vulnerable. Silence englulfs the room in a thick haze. I'm not sure how to respond. Am I over thinking it? Why would I?

Before I can even spit something out, Thorfinn turns to face me. A pained look on his face as he holds his side where the stitches were.

We are close. Close enough that I could make out his features in the dim lighting. His short unruly hair. Scar carved into the surface of his flushed cold cheeks. A face forged by the sea, hardened by years of war; still as soft as ever as he watches me. Eyes tracing the sight of me, and I'm drifting. Loosing any words that I might've had before. If there was ever a time to say my convictions, then it was right now.

For the first time in years, I can't hold his gaze. And for the first in time in years, my heart is pounding out of my chest. The feeling is familiar. Panicked, and the strong urge to run away; Embarrassment?

"Pfah," I choke back compelling laughter.

"What is it?" He squints, I can feel his stare; worn and heavy. Still, all the more focused as he watches me. My head is pounding now with too many things at once.

"I'm, sorry."

"Sorry?" He echos.

"I didn't realize you were awake." My gaze stays locked to the floor boards. There are twice as many cracks in the wood than usual.

"I'm the one who should be sorry."

Almost impulsively, my gaze finds his again. He stares at me, then at the bed, bashful; perhaps even as embarrassed as I am. Hands loosely clasped on his lap.

"I didn't mean to scare you. Or the others."

I turn my gaze to my hands, picking at the skin. I exhale deeply, consciously realizing how quiet it is that I'm not saying anything. And that I probably should say something. My body sinks deeper into the chair.

"I had a plan, I didn't go in there blind." Thorfinn continues, exhaustion evident as his shoulders fall, rousing from the warmth of the bed.

"Yeah, a bad one that almost cost you your life." I bite back a scoff, watching him rise. The skin on my hand turning red from my little habit.

"I know." he whispers. Leveled with me now as he sits on the edge of the bed, facing the chair I'm seated in. I notice how close our knees are.

He watches the cooling embers through his lashes. "I'm sorry."

"You know how it is. Out here." I sniff, nose runny from the seeping cold. "Those people need you." I purposefully leave out myself. Feeling his gaze on me as a result. I ignore it, wiping the hair from my eyes.

Words drift as the silence stretches out. Almost tangible. Obviously waiting for the things left unsaid; the doors left open. Thorfinn, deep in thought- rarely is he ever not in thought- opens his mouth to say something.

But I'm already standing. Air escaping my lungs. Wood creaking beneath my feet as I'm shifting from one foot to the other. Sheepish in all my ways. Ready to leave. Ready to forget this night, to forget what I feel- what I can't seem to face.

"But do you, need me?" Thorfinn breathes. Quick at the sight of me leaving. His words impulsive, yet so carefully chosen. The crack in his voice betraying him.

The question didn't startle me as I thought it would. I know him. I knew it was coming. He's always been blunt like this. Whether that was a good or bad thing.

Yet, it sets me off. "It's not fair." I turn to him, "What would've happened if you had died?" Despite the fear in my voice, the words are harsher than I intend, they ring in my ears.

"I had no intention of dying back there." He stands in defense. Though part of me doesn't even believe him.

"But you almost did!"

And suddenly it feels like we've already had this argument before. I'm fond of the burden he carries, I wish things were different, but they aren't. And just as soon as the argument starts, it ends.

"I know- I know." His words are heavy. Laced with something distant, something far off as they leave his mouth. And I can recognize it just as well as he can. Guilt.

"That doesn't make it anymore right." I barely whisper, sitting back down. Tension and exhaustion strung in all the way to my bones. The ache in my limbs grow, there's never enough time to rest.

"Then I'll make it right." His gaze turns back to his hands. Drifting over the scars there. I find myself watching too. "I promise."

The words ring, he's going somewhere that doesn't need me. I sigh, worn out. Reasoning with him is like trying to tell a goat to fly. "Then start with trying not to get yourself killed all the time." Hiding the desperation in my voice before I speak again, "Please?"

"I promise." He echos. But I know that words don't mean anything. Not here, not with this.

Yet I still cringe as the words leave my own mouth, trying not to believe them. Not to believe that it would make him stay. It's better not to dwell. It's better not to dwell. It's better not to- "I don't not, need you."

Regretfully, I look up to meet his face. managing to catch the subtle twitch in the corner of his lips. Fleeting, there for just a moment. "Never thought I'd actually hear you say something like that." He pauses, impishly. "To my face at least."

Oh- he did hear me. And when his gaze meets mine, I am painfully reminded of how the warmth from his back felt, seeping into my hand. I avert my gaze to the side.

"I meant what I said." I speak into the cold.

"As did I."

"Yeah, about what? Promises you can't keep?" A dismissive scoff escapes my mouth, digging into the wound a bit more for good measure. Part of me doesn't even realize how well I mask these feelings into defensiveness.

"To you and everyone else." He chuckles, trying to make light of the situation. Which turns into a small fit of coughs as he holds his injured chest.

I take the chance to jab at his side, causing him to bat my hand away in pain. Still coughing and laughing. "Yeah, you deserve that." I grin, a breathy chuckle growing in the air.

"Shu-" More coughs, "Shut up." He manages to wheeze out, still fighting away my hand.

Part of me knows this; familiarity. It's so easy to have my guard down around him. To laugh at each other like children. Yet these flaring feelings surprise me again when he catches my wrist. And perhaps it was even just a flicker of his past self. That old cocky arrogance when his lips upturned into a grin. "What? Not funny?"

"No." I frown, distracted. "I completely love seeing you in pain." I put on a devilish grin. Making an effort to pry my wrist out of his hand. "Forgive me?"

"Always." He exhales from his nose, rolling his eyes. Acting annoyed, but clearly not fooling anyone. He enjoys this too. The familiarity.

Yet I couldn't help but notice the way his thumb naturally traced along my wrist, tracing the curve of my skin in a way that was endearing and almost tender. Holding onto me a little longer than he actually should. He hesitates before dropping my wrist. Eyebrows furrowed and turning his gaze away as if forgetting something important. And once again these feelings resurface a tenfold.

Silence falls upon us again, taking over the room. He watches irresolute; brown eyes heavy against the faltering cracklings of flame. It felt as if we were both still processing everything, and he could tell that I wasn't sure what to say as well. It left me uncertain of what was going on between the two of us. We had both uttered some sort of truth for one another. But It's easier to pretend. It's safer this way. It always has been.

"I'm sorry." I breathe. Finding myself saying that a lot recently.

"For what?"

"Bout' what I said before."

"That doesn't matter." He shrugs.

"Why?"

"Because it's the truth, is it not?"

I watch his hands, how his thumb mindlessly traces the curve of his knuckles. I notice how he does that when he's thinking, trying to frame out his words.

"Do you.." He spaces out the words with hesitance, "Feel some way about me?" He finally whispers. And I notice how his breath is shaky; uneven.

The the same feeling from before returns. Increased heart rate, panicked, the strong urge to run. Yet I don't feel like running this time. Reminding myself to breathe. Instead I feel the urge to turn and face him and-

"Yes. I've grown, fond of you." I don't turn my head. Instead I watch the shadows dancing across my lap. Fond, that word sticks in my mouth like a taste you can't get out.

"Fond." Thorfinn breathes out as if he was anticipating something more. But I know him too well to know that something as simple as that is enough for him. And my mind focuses on the whisper of that one word. Repeating over and over. Fond, fond.

"Are you surprised." I whisper. Trying to swallow down this feeling that I did something wrong. That I shouldn't have said anything at all.

"No." He averts his gaze.

"Why?" I can't stop myself from inquiring more, I should stop.

"Because.." he trails off, "I have many reasons." He replies, voice a soft hush as if thinking about something that was pushed far away and buried. Feelings resurfacing.

I'll end this here. Snapping my thoughts together, I stand from my chair. "I should let you rest." I try not to look at him, it's better not to dwell. "The others want to be out of here by daylight. Who knows what Thorkell might ask of you in the morning."

I'm so stupid, so incredibly stupid. I should have never said that. Never said anything at all. And suddenly all these feelings are rising like ocean tides, I feel it in my throat.

His fingers close around my wrist in a swift motion, the suddenness of it catching me off guard. At first, all I registered was the warmth of his touch against my skin. Hands, scarred and callused. A constant reminder of my doubt. Of my fear.

"Why won't you look at me?" His voice, barely above a whisper, breaking through the silence like wind through a wind chime.

I'm not brave enough to meet his gaze, yet I picture it. Eyes like deep caverns of brown, like the woodlands; so familiar over the years, etched into the fabric of my every memory.

"You don't want to know how I feel? You'd rather run?" I can feel the way he's searching all the angles of my face.

"It doesn't matter what you feel, or what I feel." Do not dwell.

"Then why did you say it?" His words convict me. "All these years, why now?"

"I barely even said anything!" My voice is high in my ears, as if I were about to start laughing at the stupidity of the situation.

"But you did." Thorfinns voice is firm, laced with so much belief, so much certainty.

"I don't-" I shake my head, I can't think straight. "You're always like this. Saying things and doing things. Stop confusing me." My voice is strained, tired. "It's not easy."

"It's never been easy!" His voice is soft and desperate for me to just listen.

"And it never will be easy. Not now. Especially not with this." I reason, "There's always going to be something." I trail off, guiltily. The burden hangs heavy. Survival, fear, regret. "We aren't like everyone else, you and I aren't made for this," I shake my head. "All I know is now, and surviving now. There's no time for anything else."

"I know that- these things- but It's made us the same." He breathes, trying to find his words. "All these years-" I feel his hand reach to cup my neck, thumb along my cheek, his voice faltering with the words,

"I just- I know you." His is touch so gentle it's almost ghostly. I don't think we've ever been so close before.

Everything moves so fast that I remain rooted in the stillness of the moment. Slowly faltering, loosing the urge to retreat as he draws nearer. His forehead meets mine, a gentle collision.

"Please- stay." Closer, closer. I can feel the warmth of his breath seeping through all my layers of cloth and furs. Closer, and I can feel his heart racing just as much as mine. Closer still, until there is nothing left.

I could feel the warmth of his skin, the slight tremble of his touch as he hesitates for a fraction of a moment. It was fleeting, almost instinctive as his lips brush against mine. A soft pressing; hardly a kiss. Each movement deliberate yet tentative. His breath, warm and steady, mingling with mine. The warmth from his lips linger long after. As if it etching itself into my skin, and I feel lost when we part; breaths mixing with the dark aroma of burning logs, I look at him. Hand still cupping my face, his hair tickling my forehead. He smells like the woods before rain.

Eyes the color of bison hide, watching. Darting from my lips back to me. Flustered as ever, never would I have expected such a bold act from him. Dusty red tints his face, rushing to the tip of his ears.

And he whispers to me, "I've, grown fond of you as well."

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