Vikings Drabbles

⤭ making amends

halfdan makes amends after pushing you away. rated 18+ for smut.

IT IS NOT the first time you've woken to a cold and empty bed of late, and though you wish for it to be the last, you know it won't be. You've known Halfdan the Black long enough to know it's best to let him be when he's this aloof, but the distance between you has grown too large to bear —too large to ignore.

With a heavy heart, you carry about your morning duties and chores around Tamdrup before seeking out Harald. He's training with his vanguard, and against better judgment, you hope Halfdan will be there too, but Harald claims to have not seen his brother since the prior evening.

The trek up to the promontory overlooking Tamdrup is winding and steep at times, but you press on through the frigid wind, almost certain you'll find Halfdan. It's a place he and Harald know well, having used it to escape the trouble they caused as boys. You've scarcely made the ascent, but the few times have been on clear nights when the blue-green northern lights dance overhead, and each time has left lasting memories that make your heart flutter and stomach twist.

Cresting the promontory, you see him sitting at the edge —wrapped in his tan-grey fur-trimmed cloak. "There you are," you call, catching your breath as your draw nearer, "I've been looking for you.

He shifts, looking over his shoulder as you approach. There's a faint smile on his lips, even if it doesn't reach his dark eyes. "You've found me," Halfdan says, turning his distant gaze back to the fjord and Tamdrup below. You sit next to him, your shoulder just brushing his —he does not push you away, but he does not embrace you either.

There's a moment of uneasy silence, both you and Halfdan staring down through the low hanging clouds and mist at the dark water and longships. Soon those same ships would be prepared to sail once again —to answer a summons from Björn Ironside, the young and ambitious son of Ragnar Lothbrok. You glimpse Halfdan from the corner of your eyes. It makes your heart hurt to see him so troubled like there's a war raging inside him. He flinches when your fingers first brush against his cheek, as though he already forgot you were next to him.

You cup his cheek as you draw his dark and troubled gaze to you, not letting him look away. "What is bothering you, my love?" You ask —thumb stroking over the scrollwork of blue-black ink on his cheek up to his brow. "Ever since Paris, you've become colder." You hadn't gone to Francia with the brothers; instead, Harald charged you with keeping the affairs of Tamdrup and the Vestfold in line. Then they returned, with Halfdan clinging to life over a festered wound from a crossbow bolt. In the weeks after his recovery, something had shifted —between him and you and his brother. Halfdan's eyes flit over your face, his lips parting as if to speak, but he doesn't know what to say. "Tell me," you breathe, a soft plead for him to be honest with you, "so I may help carry your burdens."

He heaves a long sigh, feeling guilt take hold of his heart for having pushed you away for so long. "The more I think," Halfdan starts, leaning into your palm, "the more I wish to explore new lands." His lips kink upward, half-hidden by the scraggly tuft of wiry blond hair on his upper lip and chin. It's the first he's mentioned the desire to travel outside of summer raids. Rough fingers curl around yours, gently pulling your hand from his cheek, but he doesn't let you go —twinning his fingers with yours. "Travel to the ends of the known world."

Then his distance and despondency make sense, or at least you think it does. "But you do not wish Harald to think you've abandoned him." Halfdan nods. Harald is his brother. They've fought countless battles together. Conquered lesser kingdoms and forced jarls into submission. For as long as he can remember, he's stood by Harald's side, hellbent on seeing his brother's dreams of being crowned King of all Norway a reality.