Chapter Text

Tobias

Bjorgolf Isulfsson’s head rolled after it was severed from his neck. Auðunar stood over the body, panting hard and dropping his large blade to the ground.

Lucian started to step closer, but I held him back with my arm. “Not yet,” I whispered.

He’d been entirely inconsolable at the state of the man he knew as Eyvald. Now, he was hollow. He was in no state yet to speak, let alone help this other man while emotions were high.

Jorund was the first to move, many of the Brømkhaldic company still stunned in their grief. “Auðunar?” He didn’t touch him.

It was for the best, for Auðunar jerked away with a grunt. “Eigi nú.”

“Ek veit Þú finner sár, en Þarf at gera fljótt.”

“Ek kvað, eigi nú.” His tone was harsher.

They started arguing further in the other language, with Auðunar growing more and more irate.

“Jorund is saying that we need to burn their bodies,” Lucian murmured, his voice soft. “To stop the spread for good.”

“Aye.” I lowered my arm. “It can spread to the ground, to the trees. Animals can get sick.”

“I must go to him.”

“Not yet.” When I repeated that, he shot me a glare. But I continued. “You don’t want to talk to him yet. Give him space. Let him be angry for now. Trust me. You’ll know when he needs you.”

“Is that how you felt?” he asked. “That anger…”

I nodded. “I’d been angry for many months.”

“Jorund is trying to get the others to start a funeral pyre.”

I heard the older woman, Svala, shout what I presumed was an insult at Jorund. The twins approached Eyvald’s body but didn’t touch it.

Still, Jorund tried to presumably plead his case. “Auðunar, Þat var ekki meira at gera.”

“Rítsu sjálfum Þér!” Auðunar jerked away from him again. He barked orders, still in his mother tongue, glaring around the clearing before storming off and leaving his sword on the ground.

Jorund grimaced, then looked at my group. “Give them time to mourn. For now, gather firewood so we can prepare a pyre.”

Many of us had seen horrors like this before. Brigit and Colm, while stricken, still had enough resolve to obey his order. Ewan looked at me with a sad sigh.

“We’ll take care of it, Tobias. Stay with His Highness.”

“Aye.” I gave Lucian’s hand a squeeze, glancing at him. “I’m so sorry, love.”

He sniffled. “This is my fault.”

“Lucian…”

“I didn’t have enough time to warn them. My vision,” he stammered. “I watched Eyvald rise up from the dead and attack Bjorgolf. I-I tried to warn them, but it happened too fast. I could have saved them. What is wrong with me?”

“Lucian.” I watched his face, taking his cheek in hand. “Love, even if you had enough time, you couldn’t have possibly known it would’ve come to that. Please, don’t blame yourself. It’ll do no one any good, least of all yourself.”

He whimpered, leaning into me. “It’s not fair.”

I felt him cling to me. I wrapped both arms around him, keeping him close with my one hand. “I know.” My heart ached to hear him cry. “I’m sorry.”

“They were such good people. They didn’t deserve this!” He sobbed and shuddered in my embrace.

The twins were emotional once Lucian’s sobs were more broken. They came closer, watching us, and I let them take over in holding him when he tried to look back at them. I watched them keep him between them in a tight hug, and I didn’t need to understand the language to know they were trying to comfort him. Perhaps with old memories, with kind words to say about their fallen friends. Svala and Estrid soon joined them, the older woman holding her own.

“Þeir eru nú í friði,” she said. “Engi Þrautir, enginn sárleikr.”

Lucian sniffled, trying to nod his head. “Aftr til jarðar.”

“Þat er rétt.” She rubbed his shoulder. “Aftr til jarðar.” She kept speaking to him after that, a sad little smile on her face. Whatever she said, it brought him more comfort.

He was trying to dry his eyes, and he saw that I was still near. He held out his hand. “Svala said it was a good idea that I left him alone. You were right. He wouldn’t have gone far.”

I pressed a gentle kiss to his fingers. “Do you want me to go with you to find him?”

He paused, squeezing my hand. “Please?” he whispered. “Stay with me.”

We gave Auðunar an hour. Most of the company gathered their tents in case they needed to camp out here again. Ewan and the rest of my group came back, and by then, Lucian was growing anxious. He did most of the leading, what with my bum leg, and he kept to my right side to support me.

“What was that she told you earlier?” I asked. “That phrase. ‘Engi thrauter.’ Er…”

Lucian smiled. “Engi Þrautir, enginn sárleikr. ‘No suffering, no pain.’ Even though they died as horribly as they did, now they will be at peace. That was the most important thing to remember.” He was reverent with my arm. “And aftr til jarðar means, ‘back to the earth.’ In Brømkhald, death is seen as part of the natural cycle. To return to the earth means that your body becomes one with the land to help it grow. You have a renewed purpose, even if your soul has departed.”

“I like that.” I watched him, careful with my steps. “You’ve gotten stronger, y’know. Probably a good thing, since you’ll need to start protecting me now.”

Lucian’s cheeks grew red as he giggled. “I suppose so. I like returning the favor and taking care of you.”

I kissed his shoulder once I leaned close enough. “I can’t wait to see you with that sword.”

“Perhaps you can watch me and Auðunar spar sometime,” he insisted. “It’s quite fun.”

“I’ll look forward to it, love.”

Sure enough, we soon found Auðunar. He was sitting on the ground, leaning against a large tree. His braids were undone, and he was staring out into space. If he heard us, he didn’t show it. Lucian was helping me stand near another tree close by, and he kept looking back at where the other man was sitting.

“Go on,” I said, lightly nudging him with my shoulder. “Go to him.”

Lucian wrung his hands together, cautiously approaching. Auðunar was still staring out, though I noticed his eyes following him for just a moment. They were both silent, even as Lucian sat down beside him. Lucian cautiously took his hand.

“I’m sorry.” He leaned closer to rest his head on his shoulder. “Auðunar…”

Auðunar blinked, glancing down at him. “They were not just men that worked under me,” he muttered. “They were not lackeys to be discarded.”

“I know.” He squeezed his hand. “I’d never think that. None of us would.”

“My hands…” The Northman curled his fingers, looking down at the unoccupied one. “No matter how often I try to clean them, they will always be stained.”

“Auðunar.” Lucian shifted instead to hold him. “They’re at peace now. You did not murder them. You brought them peace.”

“I may as well have murdered them,” he grunted. “They both feel the same. I still feel unclean.”

“You are not a butcher.”

Auðunar faltered, trying to maintain his hard expression. It was breaking. “I should have been better to them, Lucian.”

Lucian held him tighter. “Engi Þrautir, enginn sárleikr.”

Auðunar at last brought his arms around Lucian. He choked, burying his face in his hair. His shoulders shook while he tried muffling his cries.

“Oh, Auðunar.” He brought him closer. “I’m here. It’s all right…”

I looked away, worried about intruding. Auðunar didn’t seem the kind of man that would be this raw around just anyone. I saw it in the way he clung to Lucian, in how he shuddered and whimpered like he wanted to hide it. And Lucian just kept murmuring to him, his voice bringing such a gentle tone to the Northern tongue.

When I dared to look again, Lucian was wiping away tears and welcoming soft kisses. I found myself caught up watching them. What they had together was tender. I never thought I’d enjoy the sight of it.

“Please, don’t pull away from me, Auðunar.” Lucian leaned close to kiss his lips. “I’m not going anywhere. I know you will never hurt me.”

Auðunar pressed their brows together, letting out a deep sigh. “I need you now more than ever. My guiding light in the dark…” They kissed again. “Þakka Þér, elskari.”

Lucian looked over at me, perhaps to see if I was still there, for his body stayed relaxed as he smiled. “Are we ready to head back?”

“Not yet.” Auðunar rubbed Lucian’s arm. “I know Thorvardsson was trying to keep my mind in check, but he seemed to think I could just simply… discard them. I’m not that kind of man.”

“I think he knows that.”

I was surprised at myself for speaking up, blanching when the Northman turned his attention to me. His expression was hard but not angry.

“He tends to only focus on the objectives when things are tense,” I said. “He acted that way ever since I first met him. And sometimes, he’s a real pain in the arse about it. Because of that strange plague, their bodies need to be dealt with quickly. My Da and I think that any close contact with it can make it pass on to something else. So far, we’ve been proven right. We don’t want it to keep spreading to the rest of the forest. I don’t think he really was trying to insult you.”

As Auðunar listened, his frown softened. “Let me ask you this, then. Would he really have stopped Bjorgolf from ending up like Eyvald?”

“I don’t know. He would’ve really tried to help, but it might not have worked. One of my closest friends, he’s also sick. We don’t know what’d happen to him if it took root. Jorund’s magic is helping heal him, but we don’t have an actual cure. I think that’s the same kind of treatment your friend would’ve gotten. It’s a long and painful process. He’d need constant healing, and he’d grow weaker over time.”

He shook his head, sighing. “Bjorgolf never would have wanted that.” He rubbed at his eyes. “And the rest of my company… what of them? Will they get sick, too?”

“As it stands right now, nay,” I said. “They didn’t get wounded, so it’s not in their blood. For now, they’re safe.”

I dared to try and move closer, already stumbling. Lucian was up right away to help support me, and I accepted it with a pained grimace.

“I can tell you how it works, if you want. Out of all of us from Sunderland, I’m the expert.” I looked up at Lucian. “Did you…?”

“No,” he assured me. “Not directly. I have always honored your trust in me.”

I nodded. “It can wait ’til later, then.”

“Very well.” Auðunar finally stood, his eyes still a little puffy but otherwise calm. “If Thorvardsson says we need to act quickly, then let us not waste any more time. We will stay out here one more night to give them a proper funeral.”

“Good idea.” Lucian smiled and offered his free hand.

At that, the Northman smiled. Both he and I kept our shared lover between us, and while that was never a concept I ever thought I’d understand, Lucian’s delighted smile made it easy enough.

Despite the feud, Jorund and Auðunar took care with setting up both pyres. I watched them surround the bodies with their prized possessions: weapons and shields and the occasional trinkets. They both made sure not to touch their clotted wounds.

Even at the state of their deaths, they were given dignity. Their heads were set against their necks, supported there by branches and strips of their own clothes. Eyvald’s severed hand was resting on his chest. Both bodies were then covered with large fur cloaks.

Auðunar spoke, his voice carrying and struggling not to waver. I felt the sadness in his words, even if I didn’t understand what he was saying. But I didn’t need to, for Lucian translated for me and the rest of the Sunderish group in a hushed tone.

“On this day, we mourn the devastating loss of two brave warriors. Eyvald Gormsson: a caring uncle, a fierce fighter, and a loyal friend. Bjorgolf Isulfsson: a devoted husband and father, a diligent healer, and a beloved mentor. By the gods’ will, your lives as warriors have come to an end. Fate is sometimes cruel, for no one could have prepared us for this. But I call upon the gods now to guide you on your final mission. May they help you both find your way to the realm of Sanctuary, for now your bodies must return to the earth. We return you to bring a new life to the world around you. Fear not what lies beyond. Suffer no more, old friends. Be at peace.”

Brigit was tearing up as she listened to the translated rites. All of us had our heads bowed.

Jorund said his own prayer before lighting a torch using the campfire, As everyone stepped back, the Brømkhaldic company hesitating to watch, the pyres were set ablaze.

It was then, and only then, that Svala broke for the first time all day. She kept an arm around her daughter, and she wept in her grief. The twins kept their heads lowered all the while. Auðunar, meanwhile, kept his eyes on the fire, his hands trembling at his sides. Lucian stood with him and held him from behind.

It was a somber evening after that. We had a meager little supper, though most of us didn’t feel like eating. Brya was curled up at Lucian’s feet after I gave her most of my share.

“Bjorgolf was like a second father,” Auðunar told Lucian while we sat. I was at Lucian’s right side, Auðunar at his left. “He helped me stay firm on my path away from The Knife. Without him, I am sure I would have crawled back.”

Lucian chuckled at that. “He merely gave you the resolve you needed to stay the course.” He set his mess down for Brya to eat, as well. “After the Grey Dogs raid, I truly felt I earned his friendship. He was surprisingly careful when suturing me up.”

“You proved yourself to him that day,” he insisted. “He told me himself that there are very few warriors out there that are like you.”

He blushed, smiling and lowering his head. “They will be terribly missed.”

“They both sound like good people. I wish I knew them better,” I said, letting out a soft sigh. “I was hoping to talk to Bjorgolf. He looked so much like the man that raised me.”

“Óu?” Auðunar tilted his head. “What was his name?”

I fidgeted. “Theodulf. I never knew his last name.”

“Theodulf Isulfsson?” His brows rose almost immediately. “He still lives? The Knife thought for sure that he never would have survived exile.”

“He raised me in Moorish Country. He took me in when my father needed me to stay somewhere safe.” I diverted my eyes. “He died when I was ten. Murdered by Iantinus.”

“The Undying Usurper?” When I perked up, Auðunar shrugged. “Lucian told me quite a bit about the Sunderish affairs.”

“Ah.” I pursed my lips. “So, he really was from here? And he was exiled?”

“Já. He took something from my father,” he said. “Refused to admit to taking it, so The Knife cast him out. I was far too young to have known him, but his treachery against my father was brought up a great deal.”

“What did he steal?”

“A great weapon. Been in my family for generations. A sword that bestowed the strength of ten men.”

Lucian’s eyes widened just as my face began to pale. Blazes, Arthur and Jorund were right. Arthur knew.

“Was it…?” I grimaced. “It had a name. Someone’s fang. Gods, what was that god’s name?”

Auðunar frowned, sitting up straighter. “Ulfgírðafang?”

I faltered. “Aye. Ulfgír’s Fang.”

I couldn’t read the look on his face.

“Do you have it with you?” He glanced off to the side, towards the distance.

“Nay, not now. I don’t think I can wield it anymore, but we brought it north with us. It’s back in Tørnalt at Jorund’s farmhouse.”

His hands curled into fists in his lap. “You had better hope The Knife never finds out that you have it. He will hunt you down to the ends of the earth.”

I looked down. “Do you… want it back? You can take it back, if it’s been stolen.”

“If you are able to wield it, then it is your sword as much as it belongs to my family line.” He huffed out a disbelieving chuckle. “It must mean something that it chose you.”

Lucian smiled at that. “Fate works in mysterious ways, does it not?”

I was left to ruminate on that, my eyes wandering to the still smoldering funeral pyres. Everyone was beginning to wind down, with Ewan volunteering to take first watch while it appeared that Estrid chose second.

“We should turn in early,” said Auðunar. “We can leave for Tørnalt first thing.”

“Alright.” Lucian pressed a kiss to his cheek before slowly getting up, offering to help me to my feet. “Actually…” He pursed his lips. “Can I suggest something? You can stop me if neither of you are comfortable.”

The both of us paused, taking glances at each other before looking at Lucian.

“No matter which tent I sleep in tonight, one of you will be going to bed cold.” Lucian fidgeted with his hands. “Do you think that the three of us can share tonight?”

My brows rose. “Er, I…” I cleared my throat, fighting the heat blooming on my face. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience either of you.”

“Neither would I.” Auðunar stammered, his cheeks a little flushed. “You two can share again tonight.”

“Actually, I was going to say that you two should share.” I looked at Lucian. “How are we supposed to decide?”

Lucian during all this was starting to grow more flustered. “Auðunar should not be sleeping alone. And neither should Tobias.” He looked down at his own feet. “But I suppose I could stay with Auðunar? But I don’t want Tobias to be cold, either. It is supposed to be frigid.”

I looked over at the Northman, just as he glanced back. I wanted to gauge what he thought about it all. But as I gestured with a nod towards Lucian, all Auðunar could offer me was a shrug of his shoulders.

“Well…” I started and held one of Lucian’s hands. “It is going to be cold again tonight.”

Auðunar nodded. “And the hound can stay in the tent with us, too. I know how much you like cuddling with her at night.”

“Really?” Lucian started to light up, but he held himself back. “Are you sure? I do not want to pressure either of you. You two still don’t know each other very well.”

“While true, we also both know you.” Auðunar held his hand. “And if we are both going to share you, then we should learn how to be around one another.”

“That’s right,” I insisted. “And that can help us better get to know each other, too.”

Lucian’s smile widened as he listened. “Oh, you both are wonderful!”

He closed the gap between us, kissing my lips. Just as quickly, he turned his head and took Auðunar’s cheek in his hand while leaning forward to kiss him, as well.

“I will go get Brya,” he grinned. “Auðunar’s right. Best to turn in.”

I shook my head with a soft chuckle, watching him head off to find the hound. In the process, he ran into Brigit and giddily spoke to her while gesturing towards me and the Northman.

“You rarely ever find a good man like that.”

I turned my head when Auðunar spoke. His eyes were still on Lucian, and he watched him with such softness.

“Nay,” I agreed. “And he always knows just what to say.”

“Já, he does,” he chuckled. As we made eye contact, he let out a sigh. “Will you be alright? Getting into the tent, that is.”

“After that walk earlier, my hip’s smarting. I could…” I trailed off and cleared my throat. “Perhaps, I do need some help.”

“No shame in that,” he told me. “Hér.”

I offered my right arm to him, that alone almost too much. I couldn’t watch him during whatever he planned on doing to help. But curiously, the Northman didn’t seem too unnerved by the stub to touch it. And as he guided me towards where he pitched his tent, he handled my weight like it was nothing.

But why was that, in particular, suddenly embarrassing?

“There is no shame in it, orrostumaðr.” He still had a good grip on my body as we walked.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” I asked. “What does that mean?”

“I am calling you a fighting man. A warrior.” He helped me into the tent. “A warrior with battle scars like yours is highly respected here. You are in good hands.”

I blushed at that, which didn’t fade when he briefly left to get our belongings. Lucian was inside with us not too long after, smiling while undoing my splints for me.

That night, Lucian was the first to fall asleep. Almost instantly, in fact. He had himself right between us with his back pressed against my chest. I held him from behind all the while. Auðunar was still awake, too. In the darkness, I could faintly see him play a bit with Lucian’s hair between his fingers. Brya was curled up near his legs.

“Auðunar? I want to thank you,” I whispered, careful not to wake our shared lover. “Thank you for being what he needed.”

I heard him let out a soft sigh. “He was what I needed, too.”

“Aye,” I smiled, though all that happened today was weighing on me again. “I will do what I can to make sure no one else from your company gets harmed by this magic again. I swear it.”

Auðunar didn’t say anything for a few moments. “I appreciate that, Tobias.”

“I…” My heart raced. “I have a confession to make.”

He paused. When the silence stretched, I realized he was waiting.

“I said that I’m an expert in how this magic works. But it’s more than that. It’s in my blood.” I felt his eyes on me, then. “My grandsire is the Undying Usurper himself. His power runs through my veins. And I’ve done a lot of things with it that I regret. But it’s my hope that now I can do something to make sure no one does what I ever did again.”

The Northman leaned close to watch Lucian and see that he was still asleep. “Let me speak plainly to you,” he said. “He trusts you, and I respect that he does. But as it stands now, I cannot.”

I winced. “I understand.”

“Please. Do not tell him I am saying this, but your death magic frightens me.” There was a wobble to his tone of voice, shaky and strained. “The walking corpses haunt my dreams. And now, they are destroying people I care about. If we are to deal with more of them, then I need to know how all this works. Everything. Anything. I need to protect my company. I have thirteen siblings under me, and all of them need to be spared from this. And I cannot protect any of them if I do not know what we are facing. If you can do that for me, even with your ties to death magic, then I can learn to trust you as Lucian does.”

I nodded. “Anything you need to know. I have read my grandsire’s book, cover to cover.”

Auðunar pressed a kiss to Lucian’s hair and relaxed. “Very well.” He sighed. “Are you tired, Tobias?”

“Nay.” I shook my head and kept a loose hold around Lucian between us. “You?” When he said no, I chuckled. “We’ve got time, then. What would you like to know first?”