Petulant ✔︎

3

It took him four days to reach the forsaken cabin. It would have taken longer if he took more breaks. He wasn't much for breaks and wanted to get this done and over for. The wooden cabin was staring at him from between two large Spruce's. The door were in the direction of a small lake. Lake that wasn't frozen since winter was coming to an end, and the water of the lake used to be much warmer than in Trondheim. His brows furrowed at the lack of chopped wood. Was this man-child planning to freeze to death? He snorted at the thought, as if Gunnar would ever do him such a favor.

Whenever Gorm came, it just made him realize how Gunnar wasn't taking care of himself at all. How much he was torturing himself. He felt the tip of the arrow without hearing anyone sneaking towards him. Of course, not that it surprised him. The prince never gave a warm welcome unless you count welcoming him into his bed.

"Look what Odin dragged in," the voice taunted behind him. Gorm rolled his eyes. He didn't feel threatened by the arrow being pointed at his skull. He doubted Gunnar would ever truly try to harm him.

He turned around swiftly, his hand wrapping around the bow and pulling the man forward. His other hand wrapped around Gunnar's neck. The prince choked, but his eyes dilated with lust. Gorm's eyes glided over him. So obedient before him, and once again, he looked into his green eyes. How he cursed those eyes keeping him awake.

He loosened the pressure but still held him close, "Look who Odin gifted with a personality of a child." Gunnar gave him a grin before pushing him away. His green eyes slid over his muscular form in suggestion. The prince always tried to seduce him.

"Your hair started to grow back." Gorm slid his hand over his head and ruffled the dirty blonde strands. He guessed it did. He raised a brow as if telling him his did also. Gunnar's hair was now up to his shoulders.

Gunnar smirked lewdly this time, "I'm keeping it long so you can tug on it!" It didn't surprise him he was telling him this. The man on how much he sputtered that he was attracted to women, enjoyed whatever Gorm did. And offered himself very needily.

"Your sister is worried about you" —he turned around and gestured for Gunnar to follow— "you could stop throwing fits and come home." Gunnar being childish as he was, sprinted before him and turned around, so he walked backward. His eyes lustfully undressed him.

He sighed as he bounced backward, "It had no point since you weren't there," he paused, his eyes once more sliding over him, "Did you hump a lot of English men." Gorm could hear the undertone of jealousy. After all, this whiny prince always seemed to radiate it.

Gorm could vividly remember the fit he threw when he returned from this cabin the second year of him leaving Trondheim. Gorm was just in the middle of thrusting into one of Irvina's guards when Gunnar barged in and banged his very own horn onto his head. Gorm threw the guard out and proceeded to take his rage on the prince. Not that Gunnar didn't like it, the man begged for it. Still, he found himself reassuring the man. Much to his chagrin.

"I was there as Ronja's guard. With her fluttering around the castle, I had no time to hump someone." He wanted to curse himself. Why was he doing this? Gunnar gave him a victorious smile, and he realised that's why. For that stupid smile. For those eyes to brighten and look at him as if he hung the stars.

Gunnar paused at the door, "You should know that my brother was here." Gorm already knew that, but just now, he realised what it meant. Gunnar barely took care of himself when he was alone. It got worse when his brother was here. They only drank. And cried sometimes.

Gorm grimaced as he walked past the threshold. The room smelled of ale. Not only that but it was also dirty and cold. He was surprised that the brothers didn't freeze their asses off. He sighed when he realised he was going to do all the work, again.