Avalon [Vinland Saga, Thorfinn/Canute, R]
Jun. 18th, 2008 10:48 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
misora.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
kinkfestTitle: Avalon
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
misora
Rating: R for language and suggested m/m sexuality
Warnings: Spoilers up to manga chapter 42, and speculation beyond.
Word Count: 2050
Summary: Björn finally recovers from his Berserker injuries, and discovers that practically all of Midgard has been turned upside-down in the interim.
Prompt: Loneliness: “They saw in each other what they lacked in themselves”.
Author's Notes: My first Vinland Saga ficlet (and first m/m ficlet, for that matter), but hopefully not my last. I have no idea why, but I think Bryan Ferry and Roxy Music fits this pairing to a tee. (Maybe because of the song with said fic title. ^^)
___________________________
Holed up in yet another snow-laden village in Mercia, the weary battle-torn group rests. For now, a truce has been called between Thorkell’s band and Askeladd’s men—the latter group now numbering no more than five, including Prince Canute. Björn, Canute, Thorfinn, Friar Willibald, and Askeladd himself are all that remain of Askeladd’s forces. Thorkell’s party has decimated the rest.
He should be happy that a truce has been agreed upon, that the Brat Prince has managed to unite the warring groups, Askeladd reassures him. With a smirk, as the priest tends to Björn’s wounds, he says that if Björn had seen with his own eyes how Canute stared down Thorkell the Tall, he himself would have garnered faith from Canute’s convictions. Björn is surprised to hear this, despite having been told by the old priest that the Prince was the one to break his Berserker’s spell. Even so, he doesn’t quite share Askeladd’s opinion.
But he knows, with certainty, that his brother-in-arms has a plan regarding this new state of affairs. He always does. So as his wounds heal, Björn puts his faith in Askeladd, as he always has.
***
Recovery is slow, and there is a wait while the men decide on a plan of action once they reach Dane-occupied territory in Gainsborough. Björn is still shocked to find that the Brat Prince is at the forefront of the planning; overnight, it seems, there has been a radical change in Canute. The boy no longer hides shyly behind the glossy golden locks of his hair—now he stands as tall as he is able, a regal posture, his blue eyes piercing as he calmly looks upon those he speaks to. Gone is the boy who trembled helplessly behind Ragnar; gone is the effeminate child the Vikings had dubbed Freyja’s avatar, and the lad who could not utter one word to a stranger to save his own life, or those of his subjects. Canute is a changed young man.
“’S come to a decision regarding something,” Thorkell tells Björn, as they are talking outside of the eating hall. Thorkell leans casually against the building, his hulking frame dwarfing the large oak door. He is speaking of Canute. “I see it, in his eyes. He has the look I‘ve seen before, only once in another man. And that man…was the strongest man I’ve known, in my entire life.”
Thorkell’s eyes are uncharacteristically serious, his gaze far away as he speaks. “Not just physically strong. ‘S as if…as if he’s found something, and that something makes ‘im unbreakable, somehow.”
Björn speculates on what could have given the Brat Prince such newfound strength of character. Even with Ragnar still alive, Canute had seemed so lonely and aimless; Askeladd’s gamble of removing the boy’s caregiver to thrust him into adulthood seems to have worked. But is that the only thing driving Canute’s convictions? Is there nothing more?
***
Though some things have changed, some remain still the same. The other brat of the pack, the scruffy kid Thorfinn, still watches over the Prince. Askeladd had designated Thorfinn to be the Prince’s bodyguard, but that was in the presence of Ragnar, to allay his fears—there’s no need for such protection now, now that Canute has asserted his bid for the crown of his sire, and has the entire strength of Thorkell’s five hundred behind him. Or is there?, Björn wonders to himself.
At any rate, Thorfinn is a quiet, scowling presence, an ever-dutiful shadow. He is so stealth-like and watchful, that one hardly even realizes he is there amidst the Prince’s grace and beauty; only when Canute steps aside does one see him, one hand on his dagger’s hilt, his messy hair hanging in his eyes, lip curled in a perpetual sneer.
Björn is so accustomed to seeing them together, that he almost—almost—misses the nuances.
There is a closeness now between them that hadn’t existed before. Whereas earlier it seemed as though Thorfinn kept a substantial physical distance between himself and his ward, preferring solitude, now he rarely leaves the Prince’s side. It is less of a duty now, and more by choice. When Canute isn’t right beside him, Thorfinn’s eyes follow him surreptitiously from beneath his shaggy blond mane. If he is caught doing so, he instantly bristles and stalks off somewhere to sulk temporarily.
Canute seeks him out, as well. He speaks to Thorfinn frequently, despite the latter’s reticence and temperament. Thorfinn’s wounds, given to him by his own great-uncle, are still on the mend; according to Askeladd, it was he who first tried to splint the boy’s broken arm during the duel, but it was Canute who tended to his wounds afterwards. Björn would have never believed it otherwise—Thorfinn rarely let anyone touch him, much less the formerly effeminate Prince. In Ragnar’s absence, Canute has gravitated to the one person whom he knows will look out for him, at all costs.
Askeladd is ecstatic over the development between the two boys. “I’ve finally gotten that wretched little skraeling off my back for a few moments,” he says gaily; but Björn hears the affection underlying his boss’s words. As usual, Askeladd is downplaying just how important Thorfinn is to him. Now more than ever, with the loss of his men, Askeladd will depend heavily on the boy’s skills in battle. And through him, Askeladd now has a connection to Canute, and possibly a method of exerting some subtle influence over the hopeful young King through his own subtle manipulation of Thorfinn. Björn knows this is not even half of what his boss is most likely plotting and brewing in that devious head of his.
But what Askeladd may or may not have counted on, was just how tight the connection between the two young men was becoming.
***
Björn hears them, quite accidentally one day, arguing with one another outside in the snow. He is around the corner of the Prince’s quarters, and he can hear Thorfinn and the Prince exchanging heated words not far from him. Björn plasters himself against the side of the wall, and listens.
“I tell you, I was doing no such thing,” Canute asserts loudly, and he is again surprised to hear the Prince’s voice raised. “You are imagining it!”
Thorfinn’s response is a low, angry growl, and Björn has to keen his ears to hear it. “Keep your voice down, Princess.” Princess?? “I caught you doin’ it. Don’t fucking try to lie to me.”
“I’m not lying!” Canute shouts. “If I had been aware of it, I would have never—”
His voice is cut off with a yelp, and Björn can hear the sound of a scuffle, and then a body making harsh contact against the wood of the small house. From his vantage point, Björn peeks surreptitiously around the corner, and his mouth drops open at what he sees.
Thorfinn has Canute pressed roughly up against the wall. They are of equal height, but Thorfinn is no doubt stronger than the Prince; Canute’s struggle is ineffectual. He is eventually subdued, panting and regarding his captor with pleading blue eyes, even as Thorfinn holds his wrists tightly.
“You have to be more careful, Canute,” the warrior hisses in low, measured tones; and from what Björn can see, Thorfinn’s face is only mere inches away from the Prince’s. “I told you, this is dangerous. You cannot afford to betray any weaknesses. At all.”
Canute shakes his head helplessly, and Björn guesses that Thorfinn’s grip on him must be rather painful—that, or it’s the position of the latter’s hips, grinding firmly against his own, that makes him react in such a way. The nearness of their bodies to one another’s is no accident, here.
Finally Canute seems to have a rein on his senses. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Thorfinn,” the Prince insists, his voice significantly lowered and softened. “I could never lie to you.”
Their faces are even closer now, their eyes never leaving each other’s, the breath from both of them heaving as though they had just run a great distance.
Björn is suddenly aware that something fundamental between them has changed, in the interim since he was injured. What is going on, here? He leans closer, to see if he can get a better view of what the boys are doing.
Suddenly Thorfinn’s head snaps up, and turns in Björn’s direction; he clamps a hand quickly over Canute’s mouth to silence him, listening.
Björn holds his breath and flattens himself against the side of the wall once more. Thorfinn has always had an uncanny ability to detect when he is being watched. Damn that boy. By the breath of Odin, he has wolves’ hearing. Björn waits, unmoving for long moments, and hears nothing but silence.
Finally there are sounds—hushed but labored breathing. He furtively risks taking another look.
Thorfinn’s grip has lessened slightly, including the hand covering the Prince’s mouth, and Canute’s lips are slowly and steadily moving over his fingers. That soft, full mouth teases and tempts, lips and tongue offering unspoken promises, and Thorfinn watches, lips parted, eyes as close to glazed as Björn has ever seen them. He can’t seem to take his gaze away from the Prince’s mouth, and the expression on his face is momentarily so passionate and full of wonder that Björn has to briefly avert his own gaze.
Canute stops kissing Thorfinn’s fingers long enough to whisper to him. His bright blue eyes are lit by some inner fire. “Come inside, and lie with me.”
Thorfinn half-mumbles, half-growls an answer—most likely a negative one. He shifts his hips against the Prince, his hand lowering to encircle the Prince’s neck; Canute tries unsuccessfully to stifle a breathy moan.
“No one will notice we’re gone, for just a little while,” Canute entreats him, and Björn can tell Thorfinn is conflicted. “They are too busy to notice. I just—I just want to touch you.”
With that he slips his freed hand down between their bodies, and although Björn cannot see what he is doing, Thorfinn’s answering groan and the undulation of his hips tells all. The warrior’s eyes are momentarily closed, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp of pleasure. Canute watches his reactions carefully, his features melting into something akin to tenderness.
“I have missed you, since last night,” he whispers; Thorfinn shudders, now made helpless himself. There is more whispering, out of earshot—more flexing of their bodies—and then hushed, quieted sounds from both of them.
It is then that Björn realizes that the two perfectly complement each other. Thorfinn is deadly, and has the strength and stealth to protect him and shield him; whereas Canute possesses a calm, a gentleness—a peace of mind that Thorfinn’s likely never known before. They can teach one another; they complete one another. They see in each other what they lack in themselves.
Björn thinks of stories and legends of former Norse kings and their Viking warrior lovers, and expressions of affection and desire that were exchanged in the heat of strife and conflict, and realizes he is not surprised by this development after all. Canute appears to have Thorfinn wound around his little finger, as he once had his own long, flaxen-blond mane. But is it just that, between them—simply lust, and desire? Or have they discovered something more profound in one another's arms?
He wonders what Askeladd will say about this, when he is told. Perhaps he already knows. He watches as Thorfinn detaches himself roughly from their tangled embrace against the wall, looking around again to make certain they weren’t observed and then leading them quickly away, presumably to fulfill Canute’s request.
Björn has a strange yearning to continue watching them, but realizes he must report back to Askeladd before the afternoon is over.
A pity he has to tell him. Askeladd's ambition will no doubt ensure that he'll attempt to use one or both of the youths for his own purposes, possibly by exploiting their attachment to one another. The boss is anything but sympathetic and sentimental, even if he does seem to hold Thorfinn in some kind of favor.
But for now, Björn steals silently away. He'll let them have these few stolen, idyllic moments alone.
Author:
misoraRating: R for language and suggested m/m sexuality
Warnings: Spoilers up to manga chapter 42, and speculation beyond.
Word Count: 2050
Summary: Björn finally recovers from his Berserker injuries, and discovers that practically all of Midgard has been turned upside-down in the interim.
Prompt: Loneliness: “They saw in each other what they lacked in themselves”.
Author's Notes: My first Vinland Saga ficlet (and first m/m ficlet, for that matter), but hopefully not my last. I have no idea why, but I think Bryan Ferry and Roxy Music fits this pairing to a tee. (Maybe because of the song with said fic title. ^^)
___________________________
Holed up in yet another snow-laden village in Mercia, the weary battle-torn group rests. For now, a truce has been called between Thorkell’s band and Askeladd’s men—the latter group now numbering no more than five, including Prince Canute. Björn, Canute, Thorfinn, Friar Willibald, and Askeladd himself are all that remain of Askeladd’s forces. Thorkell’s party has decimated the rest.
He should be happy that a truce has been agreed upon, that the Brat Prince has managed to unite the warring groups, Askeladd reassures him. With a smirk, as the priest tends to Björn’s wounds, he says that if Björn had seen with his own eyes how Canute stared down Thorkell the Tall, he himself would have garnered faith from Canute’s convictions. Björn is surprised to hear this, despite having been told by the old priest that the Prince was the one to break his Berserker’s spell. Even so, he doesn’t quite share Askeladd’s opinion.
But he knows, with certainty, that his brother-in-arms has a plan regarding this new state of affairs. He always does. So as his wounds heal, Björn puts his faith in Askeladd, as he always has.
***
Recovery is slow, and there is a wait while the men decide on a plan of action once they reach Dane-occupied territory in Gainsborough. Björn is still shocked to find that the Brat Prince is at the forefront of the planning; overnight, it seems, there has been a radical change in Canute. The boy no longer hides shyly behind the glossy golden locks of his hair—now he stands as tall as he is able, a regal posture, his blue eyes piercing as he calmly looks upon those he speaks to. Gone is the boy who trembled helplessly behind Ragnar; gone is the effeminate child the Vikings had dubbed Freyja’s avatar, and the lad who could not utter one word to a stranger to save his own life, or those of his subjects. Canute is a changed young man.
“’S come to a decision regarding something,” Thorkell tells Björn, as they are talking outside of the eating hall. Thorkell leans casually against the building, his hulking frame dwarfing the large oak door. He is speaking of Canute. “I see it, in his eyes. He has the look I‘ve seen before, only once in another man. And that man…was the strongest man I’ve known, in my entire life.”
Thorkell’s eyes are uncharacteristically serious, his gaze far away as he speaks. “Not just physically strong. ‘S as if…as if he’s found something, and that something makes ‘im unbreakable, somehow.”
Björn speculates on what could have given the Brat Prince such newfound strength of character. Even with Ragnar still alive, Canute had seemed so lonely and aimless; Askeladd’s gamble of removing the boy’s caregiver to thrust him into adulthood seems to have worked. But is that the only thing driving Canute’s convictions? Is there nothing more?
***
Though some things have changed, some remain still the same. The other brat of the pack, the scruffy kid Thorfinn, still watches over the Prince. Askeladd had designated Thorfinn to be the Prince’s bodyguard, but that was in the presence of Ragnar, to allay his fears—there’s no need for such protection now, now that Canute has asserted his bid for the crown of his sire, and has the entire strength of Thorkell’s five hundred behind him. Or is there?, Björn wonders to himself.
At any rate, Thorfinn is a quiet, scowling presence, an ever-dutiful shadow. He is so stealth-like and watchful, that one hardly even realizes he is there amidst the Prince’s grace and beauty; only when Canute steps aside does one see him, one hand on his dagger’s hilt, his messy hair hanging in his eyes, lip curled in a perpetual sneer.
Björn is so accustomed to seeing them together, that he almost—almost—misses the nuances.
There is a closeness now between them that hadn’t existed before. Whereas earlier it seemed as though Thorfinn kept a substantial physical distance between himself and his ward, preferring solitude, now he rarely leaves the Prince’s side. It is less of a duty now, and more by choice. When Canute isn’t right beside him, Thorfinn’s eyes follow him surreptitiously from beneath his shaggy blond mane. If he is caught doing so, he instantly bristles and stalks off somewhere to sulk temporarily.
Canute seeks him out, as well. He speaks to Thorfinn frequently, despite the latter’s reticence and temperament. Thorfinn’s wounds, given to him by his own great-uncle, are still on the mend; according to Askeladd, it was he who first tried to splint the boy’s broken arm during the duel, but it was Canute who tended to his wounds afterwards. Björn would have never believed it otherwise—Thorfinn rarely let anyone touch him, much less the formerly effeminate Prince. In Ragnar’s absence, Canute has gravitated to the one person whom he knows will look out for him, at all costs.
Askeladd is ecstatic over the development between the two boys. “I’ve finally gotten that wretched little skraeling off my back for a few moments,” he says gaily; but Björn hears the affection underlying his boss’s words. As usual, Askeladd is downplaying just how important Thorfinn is to him. Now more than ever, with the loss of his men, Askeladd will depend heavily on the boy’s skills in battle. And through him, Askeladd now has a connection to Canute, and possibly a method of exerting some subtle influence over the hopeful young King through his own subtle manipulation of Thorfinn. Björn knows this is not even half of what his boss is most likely plotting and brewing in that devious head of his.
But what Askeladd may or may not have counted on, was just how tight the connection between the two young men was becoming.
***
Björn hears them, quite accidentally one day, arguing with one another outside in the snow. He is around the corner of the Prince’s quarters, and he can hear Thorfinn and the Prince exchanging heated words not far from him. Björn plasters himself against the side of the wall, and listens.
“I tell you, I was doing no such thing,” Canute asserts loudly, and he is again surprised to hear the Prince’s voice raised. “You are imagining it!”
Thorfinn’s response is a low, angry growl, and Björn has to keen his ears to hear it. “Keep your voice down, Princess.” Princess?? “I caught you doin’ it. Don’t fucking try to lie to me.”
“I’m not lying!” Canute shouts. “If I had been aware of it, I would have never—”
His voice is cut off with a yelp, and Björn can hear the sound of a scuffle, and then a body making harsh contact against the wood of the small house. From his vantage point, Björn peeks surreptitiously around the corner, and his mouth drops open at what he sees.
Thorfinn has Canute pressed roughly up against the wall. They are of equal height, but Thorfinn is no doubt stronger than the Prince; Canute’s struggle is ineffectual. He is eventually subdued, panting and regarding his captor with pleading blue eyes, even as Thorfinn holds his wrists tightly.
“You have to be more careful, Canute,” the warrior hisses in low, measured tones; and from what Björn can see, Thorfinn’s face is only mere inches away from the Prince’s. “I told you, this is dangerous. You cannot afford to betray any weaknesses. At all.”
Canute shakes his head helplessly, and Björn guesses that Thorfinn’s grip on him must be rather painful—that, or it’s the position of the latter’s hips, grinding firmly against his own, that makes him react in such a way. The nearness of their bodies to one another’s is no accident, here.
Finally Canute seems to have a rein on his senses. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Thorfinn,” the Prince insists, his voice significantly lowered and softened. “I could never lie to you.”
Their faces are even closer now, their eyes never leaving each other’s, the breath from both of them heaving as though they had just run a great distance.
Björn is suddenly aware that something fundamental between them has changed, in the interim since he was injured. What is going on, here? He leans closer, to see if he can get a better view of what the boys are doing.
Suddenly Thorfinn’s head snaps up, and turns in Björn’s direction; he clamps a hand quickly over Canute’s mouth to silence him, listening.
Björn holds his breath and flattens himself against the side of the wall once more. Thorfinn has always had an uncanny ability to detect when he is being watched. Damn that boy. By the breath of Odin, he has wolves’ hearing. Björn waits, unmoving for long moments, and hears nothing but silence.
Finally there are sounds—hushed but labored breathing. He furtively risks taking another look.
Thorfinn’s grip has lessened slightly, including the hand covering the Prince’s mouth, and Canute’s lips are slowly and steadily moving over his fingers. That soft, full mouth teases and tempts, lips and tongue offering unspoken promises, and Thorfinn watches, lips parted, eyes as close to glazed as Björn has ever seen them. He can’t seem to take his gaze away from the Prince’s mouth, and the expression on his face is momentarily so passionate and full of wonder that Björn has to briefly avert his own gaze.
Canute stops kissing Thorfinn’s fingers long enough to whisper to him. His bright blue eyes are lit by some inner fire. “Come inside, and lie with me.”
Thorfinn half-mumbles, half-growls an answer—most likely a negative one. He shifts his hips against the Prince, his hand lowering to encircle the Prince’s neck; Canute tries unsuccessfully to stifle a breathy moan.
“No one will notice we’re gone, for just a little while,” Canute entreats him, and Björn can tell Thorfinn is conflicted. “They are too busy to notice. I just—I just want to touch you.”
With that he slips his freed hand down between their bodies, and although Björn cannot see what he is doing, Thorfinn’s answering groan and the undulation of his hips tells all. The warrior’s eyes are momentarily closed, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp of pleasure. Canute watches his reactions carefully, his features melting into something akin to tenderness.
“I have missed you, since last night,” he whispers; Thorfinn shudders, now made helpless himself. There is more whispering, out of earshot—more flexing of their bodies—and then hushed, quieted sounds from both of them.
It is then that Björn realizes that the two perfectly complement each other. Thorfinn is deadly, and has the strength and stealth to protect him and shield him; whereas Canute possesses a calm, a gentleness—a peace of mind that Thorfinn’s likely never known before. They can teach one another; they complete one another. They see in each other what they lack in themselves.
Björn thinks of stories and legends of former Norse kings and their Viking warrior lovers, and expressions of affection and desire that were exchanged in the heat of strife and conflict, and realizes he is not surprised by this development after all. Canute appears to have Thorfinn wound around his little finger, as he once had his own long, flaxen-blond mane. But is it just that, between them—simply lust, and desire? Or have they discovered something more profound in one another's arms?
He wonders what Askeladd will say about this, when he is told. Perhaps he already knows. He watches as Thorfinn detaches himself roughly from their tangled embrace against the wall, looking around again to make certain they weren’t observed and then leading them quickly away, presumably to fulfill Canute’s request.
Björn has a strange yearning to continue watching them, but realizes he must report back to Askeladd before the afternoon is over.
A pity he has to tell him. Askeladd's ambition will no doubt ensure that he'll attempt to use one or both of the youths for his own purposes, possibly by exploiting their attachment to one another. The boss is anything but sympathetic and sentimental, even if he does seem to hold Thorfinn in some kind of favor.
But for now, Björn steals silently away. He'll let them have these few stolen, idyllic moments alone.
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no subject
Date: 2008-06-19 03:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-19 06:58 am (UTC)There's so little VS fanfiction, particularly of Thorfinn/Canute out there...I hope as the series gets more popular, we'll see more!
no subject
Date: 2008-06-19 02:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-19 03:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 05:05 am (UTC)oh Thorfinn
no subject
Date: 2008-06-19 07:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-19 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-20 11:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-20 11:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 05:08 am (UTC)It is then that Björn realizes that the two perfectly complement each other. Thorfinn is deadly, and has the strength and stealth to protect him and shield him; whereas Canute possesses a calm, a gentleness—a peace of mind that Thorfinn’s likely never known before. They can teach one another; they complete one another. They see in each other what they lack in themselves.
is just...brilliant.
Mmmmm I love this pairing. Great job! :)
no subject
Date: 2008-06-23 02:59 am (UTC)Bjorn seemed perfect to use as an objective bystander -- and possibly even sympathetic to both boys, though his loyalties lie with Askeladd.
I adore GAR!Canute. He was cute as a shy one too, but I'm very pleased at the change in him, even if it was rather abrupt. He's a perfect foil for Thorfinn in all of these attributes; Thorfinn is able to protect himself just fine, but he needs someone to believe in, whom he can place his faith in. Canute might yet be that person; we'll have to see how the new chapters develop. <3
Thank you so much for your feedback! Sorry my response was a bit delayed. ^^;
no subject
Date: 2008-09-23 12:41 pm (UTC)You just pin them both down so well in this paragraph, it's fantastic: "At any rate, Thorfinn is a quiet, scowling presence, an ever-dutiful shadow. He is so stealth-like and watchful, that one hardly even realizes he is there amidst the Prince’s grace and beauty; only when Canute steps aside does one see him, one hand on his dagger’s hilt, his messy hair hanging in his eyes, lip curled in a perpetual sneer."
Thank you- you've made my night. Wonderful fic.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-15 10:35 pm (UTC)I'm so going to watch you now x3 must have more ThorfinnxCanute x3
no subject
Date: 2010-06-29 02:49 pm (UTC)Btw, I think you should post this to FF.net too. Vinland Saga fics are so rare.. They are like..six? =D