You find yourself gathered around the fire again, this time surrounded by the fog of drink and sleep. The three men in front of you are now gone, but their sprits remain alive and well, their stories still being told … and you wonder if they might be told for a thousand years.
King Ragnar, Rollo, and Athelstan.
You slap Ragnar across the face and laugh, though you are not sure why. Perhaps it is the darkness inside you that knows some men love such things, and you are happy to oblige.
Rollo is the man you are drawn towards the most, and it makes you wonder if perhaps there is a pattern within your heart. What is it about the dark roguish ones that speed up your heartbeat? He gives you an earth-shattering crooked grin while you repeat the attention you’d given his nephew only hours before.
And then there is Athelstan. The man who had one foot standing in the world of his past, and his other in the world in which he was able to discover who he really was. And just as you had done with Ubbe, you bend down and lick the priest’s palm, for you know that he is wise, he sees.
He opens his eyes and they are as blue as the sky in the early morning.
“Mercy,” he simply says, with a tiny curl of his lips.
His voice echoes in your mind as you shoot straight up in bed, released from the vision. You instantly put your hand to your temple, as your head is pounding. The room is too bright and you shield your eyes, even though only the first rays of dawn shine inside.
Everything is spinning and you realize that you are hungover, but you can’t help but have a giggle at your dream … then wonder if you perhaps are still a little drunk.
But then you notice that the bed you are in is not your own. You look up and squint at your surroundings and see that you are not in your room, or even in your home at all. You bring your hand to your chest and notice that you are naked underneath the furs that only half-cover your body.
Something stirs at your side and you glance over to see a man’s muscular chest, an arm draped over his well-defined stomach, as he moves onto his side and settles comfortably into his spot on the bed.
Your eyes grow wide, your heart starts threatening to beat out of your chest, and a heat breaks out all over your body, as memories flash by in your head.
There was mead. A lot of mead. There was the game. There was kissing. A lot of kissing while you sat in his lap. And then there was him beckoning you to follow him, but unlike at the beginning of the evening, this time you complied.
You put your fingers to your lips, feel that they are swollen, and recall how he’d sucked at them, and then at your neck. You look down and see the passion marks he’d left on the skin just peaking out from under the furs. You groan as the memory of him paying attention to every inch of your body, runs across your mind. How your little fantasy had come true as you ran fingers through his hair whilst guiding him lower …
You scrub your hands over your face as you finally let it sink in …
Ivar. You had gone home with Ivar.
The voice from your dream sounds in your ear once more, though you could have sworn it held a tinge of laughter.
after reading this fic again i just had the urge to draw otabek because he was there. in the fic. and i love that. and i had to. and let me tell you more about him while i’m at it!! Otabek is Yuuri’s royal guard and his purpose in life is to protect the King of Night and in extension to vanquish nightmares coming up from the ocean of dreams that threaten to destroy the moon realm. and yes he can see through that helmet
Listen, listen. The fact Eliot Spencer’s response to Parker being upset and asking if they could kill the guy who upset her was a shrug and, “Yeah. I mean, I could.” will never, ever not be important to me.