the dog days are over

something about the hungarian princess. he saw her and... lack of a better phrase; he wanted her. not like some sexual deviant, but that could be a partial reason, he was well aware that he had a higher libido than a lot of people. it was the way she carried herself, the confidence.

he liked it.

it wasn't like she was cocky, it was like she was aware of her worth and projected that. for someone who hides his insecurities behind a smile and a joke, he couldn't help but find her irresistibly attractive.

however, he had to make his diligence first. he needed to make sure she was single, and if she were with someone he had to know if it was a monogamous relationship, and he had to make sure she didn't have kids. it was unfair to uproot a child's life when you have no intention of being a parent, something he had learned after his affair with the english prince. luckily for him, he and auggie never intended for their relationship to get serious.

oh, of course she'd noticed him. if zosia had taught her anything, it was biding her time, taking everything in before one strikes. not unlike a viper, she'd thought to herself before. so, yes, she knew who prince claes was, and from what she knew of him? he's...intriguing. he'd kept her waiting, though. either from disinterest or, god forbid, a lacking confidence, he'd yet to approach her.

so when he finally does, of course she needs to assess. while she had seen him about the castle and the grounds, she couldn't recall seeing him here, which meant this was unlikely to be a chance meeting. he didn't stammer when he spoke to her, which was another point in his favor. unlikely to be a lack of confidence, then.

he  notices  the  way  they  look  at  him  back  -  of  course  -  and  normally  he’d  need  nothing  less,  but.  now  feels  different.  whether  it  is  time  apart  or  an  unusual  amount  of  vulnerability,  he  hesitates  to  act  where  he  normally  would.  he  turns  his  head,  forehead  pressing  against  their  chest,  smile  growing  by  the  mention  of  anneliese,  and  the  thought  that  tyr  would  have  been  what  has  protected  him  from  violent  interactions  in  the  past.  “clearly,”  he  agrees,  with  a  laugh  that  escapes  him  in  the  form  of  a  sharp  exhale  through  his  nose.  “it  was  foolish  of  me  to  venture  outside  without  your  company,  i  will  not  attempt  it  again.”

maybe  now  is  not  the  time?  maybe  it  would  be  too  much.  maybe  he  should  simply  find  solace  in  the  fact  that  they  are  here  without  asking  more  of  them.  maybe  he,  at  the  very  least,  should  bathe  first.  he  turns  his  head  again,  side  of  his  face  resting  against  their  chest.  maybe  he’s  stalling  because  of  what  now  certainly  is  an  unnecessary  fear  of  rejection,  but  still,  he  doesn’t  want  to  ruin  the  moment.  it  feels  too  fragile.  what  he  can  manage,  is  bringing  joined  hands  closer,  to  his  lips.  not  to  kiss,  just  to…  keep  them  there,  while  he…  gathers  strength,  or  something  like  that.  absorbs  the  moment.  exists  in  their  company.  fights  the  urge,  no  matter  the  way  brown  eyes  previously  had  hinted  at  how  it  might  be  well  received. 

he turns now, brings their hands closer, and-- and they know they could. it would be as simple as tilting his head again, and they know he'd let them like they know the sun will set tonight and it will rise by the morning. because it is not a thing between them, these desires and the usual penchant for acting upon them a simple, easy thing. but now? now it almost feels unfair. he would think nothing had changed, but in fact, something had been shifting for some time, on tyr's part. and it did not settle easily, no, rather it crashed its way through and left them unable to ignore it completely. and it didn't feel right, knowing their reason for wanting to kiss him would have been so different from the reasons he would want to kiss them.

their hand is still settled on his side, but now it moves to skate up his ribs and back down again, absently, like some part of them needs to move but the idea of not touching him doesn't even cross their mind. "if your danish was better i might even say anneliese could keep you safe on her own. she bites much worse now with more teeth, and she quite likes you. but the chance of her learning english, and in your accent? it would sound atrocious." they were joking...mostly. anneliese very much did bite, and it did hurt much more than it had in months previous. and will's danish was lacking. but will being around enough that anneliese learned english from him was...far from an atrocious thought, actually.

back to tyr, and, he really is clueless. he does not know this version of them, only knows who they were as a child where they still held love for him. now? he cannot say in what way they prefer to be comforted. he doesn't know what would calm them down. "tyr." he reaches for a cloth of linen, places his free hand on tyr's forearm in a silent request for them to stop. "please, sit down. if your hands still need washing, though i doubt it, we can... resume once the water has been replaced."

the noise was them.

they were...crying? gods and it's a horrific, pathetic thing. they hadn't cried when they'd lost clara, or hagen, certainly not their father, nor their eye or...had they cried for their mother..? they couldn't remember and it didn't matter yet here they were crying because...because what? because of the blood? because there was no blood, none that hallr could see, anyway? they're terrified to bring their hands to their face anyway so they just hover, and sobs wrack their body so intensely they think they might really be sick. the noise is ugly. they can't breathe. they can't stop. they hardly know what to do when people cry in front of them and they know even less when they are the one crying.

because they aren't supposed to be. it's a sick thought that flashes in their mind but there's a realization even the way they can't quite self soothe is protective. hallr couldn't strike them like this, not in the face, anyway. but it's not hallr they're shielding themself from and they know that. they know it and it does not make the sobbing stop. they don't know how to stop it. it's like they're not even crying over this but over...over all of it, maybe?

they   sit   and   ilja   tries   to   be   patient   as   food   and   something   to   drink   is   served   ,   gazing   up   what   was   so   much   more   than   bread   and   a   few   sips   of   water   …   he   is   only   distracted   from   the   intense   feeling   of   hunger   by   their   voice   –   firm   but   nothing   less   caring   .   “   my   friend   had   a   look   at   it   ,   cleaned   it   .   it   should   be   healing   .   “   though   it   was   undeniable   that   the   lack   of   a   clean   environment   as   well   as   as   energy   coming   from   food   had   slowed   down   the   healing   process   .   skin   around   it   still   angry   red   ,   the   skin   feeling   tight   when   he   turned   his   head   .   “   just   a   scratch   in   the   life   of   a   guard   .   “   ilja   tries   to   assure   them   further   .   

his   hand   reaches   for   theirs   once   more   ,   this   time   to   pull   them   somewhat   closer   –   carefully   ,   a   little   shy   still   ,   until   they   sit   close   enough   that   with   his   free   hand   the   guard   can   brush   a   few   of   the   blond   locks   to   the   side   .   they   did   not   need   to   be   pushed   out   of   the   way   but   he   had   wished   to   feel   them   under   his   fingertips   as   a   moment   of   silence   lingers   between   them   .   “   i   have   not   forgotten   how   your   lips   tasted   but   …   “   brief   hesitation   .   was   he   pushing   too   much   ?   asking   for   too   much   ?   but   he   was   here   .   in   their   chambers   .   and   they   called   him   sweet   names   and   touched   his   face   .   so   perhaps   pushing   just   a   little   more   would   not   scare   them   off   .   perhaps   ,   if   they   were   equals   as   it   felt   in   that   very   moment   ,   perhaps   then   they   would   welcome   it   .   “   if   you   were   to   give   me   a   chance   to   refresh   the   memory   …   ?   i   am   a   starved   man   .   “   the   sad   play   of   words   bringing   a   small   twitch   to   the   corner   of   his   mouth   anyway   ,   a   soft   smile   while   his   gaze   drops   to   pink   ,   plump   lips   .   delicate   ,   slightly   shaped   like   a   heart   at   the   top   ,   inviting   …

and then he speaks. he asks. not outright, not direct, but perhaps that's the more endearing thing about it. ilja does not ask them for things, even the things he may need of them, hence why even in matters of getting him food and drink they'd taken the small acquiescence and ran with it, not content to give him the bare minimum he did bring himself to ask for. but this was unprompted, not something augustus had asked first, nor offered, but something he wanted and he asked for, and who is augustus to deny him anything? "far be it from me to allow you to starve." and they of course see the way he stares at their lips. they move closer still, what little space remained between them feeling almost like a chasm. it just wouldn't do.

and they're in his space now, lingering only a moment before one hand finds his cheek again, the other resting on his leg when they lean in, pressing their lips to his, something quick and soft at first, eyes opening to only quickly gauge his expression before leaning in again, something a bit more intense, tongue asking, waiting before moving to kiss him deeply, the soft noise it pulls from them not even heeded enough to mortify them, perhaps not realizing they'd been starved themself. his cheek is rough under their palm, his lips chapped from deprivation of adequate water, but it's him and he's here and it's all they can do to not essentially crawl into his lap, press themself so much closer to him there isn't space for a breath between them at any point.

he’s  all  but  tossed  into  the  room.  manages  to  stay  on  his  feet,  though  his  dignity  is  still  nowhere  to  be  seen.  his  hands  raises  to  brush  over  the  opposite  upper  arm,  a  brief  moment  of  self  comforting  before  he  then  gestures  towards  the  door  in  a  silent  question  of  what  just  happened?  he’s  never  met  augustus  before,  only  seen  them  in  passing.  what  could  they  possibly  have  to  speak  about  that  is  important  enough  that  all  of  this  would  be  necessary?  he is  unsurprisingly granted  no  opportunity  to  question  anything  before  the  crown  prince  speaks.  and  as  has  become  a  recent  tendency  of  his,  rather  than  fighting  back  or  speaking  his  mind,  he  slips  into  a  state  more  apathetic  than  anything.  

he  takes  a  seat,  as  instructed,  despite  how  he  would  rather  not.  and,  listening  to  them  speak  -  he’s  not  sure  what  they  mean.  not  sure  what  the  us  consists  of  in  this  instance.  confusion  is  visible  enough  in  his  expression  as  he  almost  cautiously  watches  them  -  as  if  they’d  pounce,  were  he  to  look  away  for  even  a  second.  “please, speak more straightforwardly if you wish for me to understand.”

"it is clear that--" the sound of impending footsteps cuts them off, and they sigh, waiting. no sooner had they begun to wait than winnie herself burst in, rattling off her adventures with princess niamh and apparently not seeing william at all. "winnie, win-- wynflæd." the use of her full name cuts her off, and only then does she seem to take in that she's barged in on something. it's the one rule they've tried to enforce with her, which means of course that bea has done what they can to ignore it entirely, a dose of their own medicine, perhaps. they sigh, leaning to be a bit lower, closer to her eye level. "sunbeam, prince william and i are having a discussion. you are not to interrupt without an emergency, correct?" winnie pouts a moment, but eventually nods, mumbles an apology. she seems to have more to say, and against their better judgement, they inquire softly. she asks if, since augustus is interrogating the prince --very much not what they said-- and he is to marry kitty and therefore be her family as well, could she talk to him too?

augustus knows they're going to regret this. "you may ask a few, winnie, but--" and she pays them no mind after that, launching into a breathless whydoesn'tkittylikeyouareyoumeantoher and a breath before youhadbestnotbemeantoherortopopsyespeciallypopsyand and auggie almost thinks she's done. the worst, however, is yet to come. whydon'tyouhaveawifealreadyyou'refairlyold gets a laugh out of them, but it stops being quite so funny when winnie, filter lacking, continues andwhy'stherenoqueenofscotlanddidshediemymotherdiedtooit'sverysadyourmotherdiedunless-- "wynflæd, that is quite enough. go find bea. now." they're shooing her away now, only slightly mortified. they feel a bit bad for their tone, though, and walk with her both to quietly apologize and to make sure she actually walks away. a quiet apology and a kiss to her temple is appeasement enough, it seems, and they return after a moment, only somewhat certain they can still salvage their dignity. "as i was saying. it is clear that you are not receptive to my sister, which given most circumstances would be understandable on its own, but given some other information, the issue seems to go deeper than simple indignation at the arrangement. and i...was in your shoes, at one point. i understand it."

lachlan   would   forgive   him   ,   he   always   did   ,   always   would   for   his   family   .   why   else   would   he   allow   father   to   act   as   he   did   …   yet   slight   doubt   perhaps   would   live   on   .   doubt   whether   there   was   any   left   of   the   adoration   a   younger   sibling   held   for   the   older   .   there   had   been   more   .   the   moments   with   aksel   were   what   lingered   ,   what   stayed   on   his   mind   .   he’d   hoped   to   find   a   few   dandelions   even   though   winter   had   fully   arrived   .   the   viking   would   surely   love   the   gesture   .   but   now   ,   with   the   ground   frozen   and   the   sun   hidden   behind   a   thick   layer   of   clouds   the   courtyard   had   turned   into   ice   and   snow   .

the   crown   prince’s   head   comes   up   as   he   is   approached   .   “   prince   tyr   .   “   a   polite   nod   though   the   words   that   follow   are   not   what   he   expects   .   no   mentions   of   the   younger   friesal   ,   of   the   recently   announced   betrothal   .   lachlan   knew   not   where   the   two   of   them   stood   now   with   katherine   in   the   middle   of   them   .   he   would   have   liked   to   however   ,   william   had   shut   down   attempts   to   discuss   the   situation   before   and   he   was   weary   of   trying   to   force   the   familial   bond   when   he   seemingly   was   the   only   one   missing   it   .   “   whispers   …   the   town   talks   .   as   it   always   does   .   perhaps   you   would   have   to   be   more   precise   as   to   what   these   whispers   concern   .   “   there   was   one   topic   .   one   that   he   had   wished   to   hide   yet   had   been   too   obvious   for   it   .   now   that   days   had   passed   since   ,   lachlan   had   accepted   the   bruise   around   his   eye   as   part   of   his   face   .   no   longer   saw   it   even   now   that   it   started   to   fade   ,   started   to   change   its   colors   .   had   accepted   that   this   was   what   friesal   love   looked   like   –   cold   and   violent   and   numbing   .   

turning back to look at lachlan, now that anneliese has occupied herself for the moment, they shrug. "all sorts of rumors swirl now, and surely you are not ignorant to the whispers about your own kin, or about yourself and the, ah...company you keep. i find it...a bit bold, on your part, to apparently find camaraderie in a viking whose alliance your father does not seek." and their good eye flicks to where the bruise is fading only briefly. they adjust the patch on their other eye almost unconsciously, as though that might convey something. "or perhaps the tavern is just especially fixated on him." they, honestly, don't know why they felt compelled to speak to lachlan. perhaps it's recognition of something neither will voice. perhaps it's more than that. maybe they don't see themself in lachlan. no, they definitely don't. they see someone, though, someone long gone, a loss that settles like an empty pit in their chest, and they...what? think this will help? are they this desperate for some scrap of fraternity, in a literal sense, that they'd bother an older brother will himself did not seem close to?

"i will not voice the obvious because that is precisely the desired outcome of such actions, so you might relax a bit." this is blurted more than said and gods, why. they cannot backtrack now, and of course this means instead they keep going, pivoting as they said they would. "everyone thus far has done nothing but inquire about will to me, so if you intend to do the same, i will save you the trouble and ask that you leave the matter." though they were, at least, speaking again, it did not mean they cared to be reminded of the other issues hanging over the both of them. maybe lachlan wouldn't even have asked.

he tends to steer clear of them. he tries to. not because he doesn't want to be around them - actually, he is still clinging desperately onto hope that some day they'll turn around and want him back as a brother - but because of how clearly they don't want him to be. now, however, how could he leave them, how could he let them simply pass him by without doing anything? he hadn't sought them out, it is mere happenstance that he comes across them, despite of how danish servants have tried to discretely hint at how something might be amiss with one of his siblings.

now, he finds them in this state. his heart sinks, his hands feel strangely cold, and he springs into action. he doesn't know what he intends to do, what his plan is, but he needs to do something. there is blood on their hands and he need to do something. someone- if someone hurt his brother- "tyr." eyebrows narrowed in concern, he closes the distance between them, hands reaching out but hesitating. stopping before they reach them, for a moment, one settling on their shoulder. "what happened? who did this?"

"i said to leave, you--" they look up, ready to tell off some overly nosey servant, and instead are met with the same intense blue that clara had carried, that he had passed down to them, but the ones looking back at their own --for now nearly brown, wide, and frantic-- are not either of them. they recoil anyway, like his touch burns. it doesn't. they feel sick. they feel afraid. they feel like a monster. "i, um...he--" but they realize their mistake almost immediately and shake their head. "no, it's-- ! it's not mine. this isn't mine. it isn't. i'm fine. i'm fine. i'm...going to be sick." their head feels too light, and they're taking in lungfuls of air like this might help. vidar is the one who reacts like this, not them. this isn't right. they feel wrong, almost wrong enough to reach for halldor, if they could just get their hands clean.

tyr's speaking, and he listens, of course, but he doesn't really pay attention. not because he doesn’t want to, but, instead, he finds himself overwhelmed by the sudden realisation of how intimate the moment is - has been all along, sure, and maybe he might have noticed sooner had he not been drowning in a haze of worry and fear and whatever else. but now, it dawns on him, finally. and, he attempts a smile. to show that their words aren't lost on him. it's not a very convincing one, perhaps, but there is some genuineness behind it, still. something appreciative of how they’re speaking, trying, staying.

for a short moment his gaze drops to their lips, almost thoughtfully, before he lays his head down again. maybe it's inappropriate after spending so much time pushing them away, he can't quite tell - he doesn't trust his own judgement currently - but he can't help it, not now that they're here, after they’ve been apart for so long. what with their soothing presence, brown eyes, stupid pink lips, making him feel something that isn't either apathy or devastation for the first time in at least a month. the way their voice sounds and the way they smell sort of like a forest. it’s all of it, it hits him at once. he doesn’t act on what urge he feels, though. instead, a stupid joke. “i could’ve taken him.” gaze once more drawn up to meet theirs, drifting slightly. maybe.

it isn't like they've never kissed him before. still, they hesitate. this past month has been exhausting, so they can only imagine how will has fared. the moment between them now is...well, perhaps it's past the line other people might draw for a friendly interaction, but that was just how they were, wasn't it? they just...understood each other, or tried to. even if, maybe, admittedly, their own feelings might not be purely platonic. that just feels like more reason to hesitate.

so they hesitate. but it doesn't mean they don't look back, gaze lingering at his lips a moment. "it is impressive, honestly. no one had tried something so brazen so long as i was with you. clearly i cannot let you or anneliese out of my sight for too long." the hand still holding his squeezes lightly, and they're only mostly joking. they're hardly a deterrent, and more than likely the guard --tyr for the life of them could not conjure his name. ingvar? ivan? did it matter?-- would have cared little if they'd been there.

“Nonsense,” Kitty declared to the man behind the bar when he tried to tell her she could not have another glass of ale. “Hardly touched a drop. Only this much.” She held up two fingers less than an inch apart to show just how tiny the amount was. The man was having none of it and insisted that her father would have his head if he continued to serve her. Kitty, ever understanding, pleaded with him until he eventually gave her a bottle of wine and sent her off in the direction of her chambers, where she promised she would continue drinking alone, safely. 

Of course, that was not her true intention. The last few weeks had been a series of stressful events, one after another, and tonight she wanted to relax and have a bit of fun. Visiting the tavern was not normally her preferred way of accomplishing that – she had never been much of a drinker – but it always seemed to work for other people and she was not above adopting their methods. 

“Ohhh, hello boyfriend,” Kitty greeted Tyr a little later when she stumbled across them on her way to her chambers, silliness overtaking her better sense. Uninvited, she dropped into a chair next to them. “Actually, no. Let’s not talk about William. I’m having too much fun pretending he doesn’t exist.” Never mind that the Danish prince likely wasn’t planning to talk to her at all. “Tell me about you instead. Do you like wine?” She extended the bottle, shaking it at them as if it was some sort of peace offering.

the look they shoot her is nothing short of haggard. they're tired, and she's so loud, and it's not hard to tell she's already indulged plenty. the absolute last thing they need to do right now is start drinking, but. "i like it well enough." they say, taking the bottle from her. arie had brought wine to apparently break the news to them he was to be a father, a fact that still did not sit well, for reasons they barely understood. whatever fresh hell this offering precedes, it can't possibly be as much of a gut punch.

"so long as you are not here to interrogate me again." they scoff, because they're almost certain she will. they look at the bottle a moment, debating if it's worth it to try to flag down a servant to bring cups. no, they decide, it isn't, and if she doesn't like it, she should have brought a second bottle. they unseal the bottle quickly, not looking at the blade in their hand and putting it away just as immediately. they look right at her as they put the bottle to their lips, nose wrinkling slightly at the underlying bitterness. "either way, i am most likely going to lie to you until..." they swish the bottle a moment, feeling how high it's filled. they point to a spot lower on the bottle, and shrug. "probably when i get there."

the last few days aksel had only ventured between the camp and the castle, a place he probably should have continued to avoid since the king still held such resentment, but fate had other plans. he'd not frequented the tavern much since his arrival, with the lack of food and ale he figured there was little reason to. who he'd expected to run into he didn't know, but aksel had no idea who the other man was until he said his name.

"oh, no, i'm...not much of a drinker." a strange stance to take, stranger still for a man found in a tavern in the first place, but. if anyone thought watered down ale was the best thing these places offered, they're a fool. cassian's made his way in the world by paying attention, lingering, learning how to listen without being seen. and, alright, maybe meabh's gotten him a bit too used to the nicer stuff.

he  swallows  thickly,  the  small  movement  that  follows  making  him  acutely  aware  of  the  seriousness  of  the  situation,  the  point  of  the  dagger  digging  into  his  skin.  “what’s  this  about?”  he  asks,  as  if  feigned  stupidity  might  save  him  from  the  blade,  the  threat  that  had  been  made  along  with  it. 

and  then,  as  if  he  cannot  help  himself,  as  if  dangerously  foolish  is  the  natural  state  he  slips  into  when  too  scared  to  not put  on  an  act  -  he  speaks  further.  perhaps  it  is  a  test,  as  it  had  been  the  last  time  he’d  found  himself  on  the  receiving  end  of  a  blade  pointed.  is  tyr  serious?  if  he  pushes,  will  they  react,  or  give  up?  it’s  a  stupid  game.  there’s  no  winning  in  it.  yet,  he plays it.  “oh- tyr, is  this  because  i  humped  your  brother? or is it that i've lost interest in him? honestly, i do not see why i should be blamed for either.” a sharp exhale - supposedly a laugh - is forced out before he continues. "as far as i'm aware you didn't care for our friendship, no? shouldn't you then be grateful i put an end to it?"

they can't conjure it up right now. in this moment, nothing exists but this anger, this need to make him hurt, hurt like their brother did, hurt like they did, constantly reminded no matter how they tried and screamed and scrambled they could never, never keep their family from harm. it isn't the same but gods, isn't it? "i care little about who my brother chooses to bed. and i care less so when such arrangements end. but i know him, and what i saw of him, that is not-- you did something, or said something, and therein lies your undoing."

one hand still gripping the front of his shirt, they move the blade now to rest on his cheek, the point of the dagger resting close to his eye, and they press down. "i was blinded for less, you know. perhaps it would do you some good as well." and they swipe down, blade angled to keep away from his eye, despite the threat. the wound isn't deep, but they're familiar enough with a blade to the face to know it will look worse than it is, will hurt plenty. that doesn't mean they're done with him. "so i will ask again. would you rather i gut you like a fish where your little viking friends can see how pathetic you are, or do you think you're worth a small mercy?"

“   water   …   maybe   a   few   bites   of   bread   .   it   will   be   enough   .   “   it   hardly   was   but   he   would   not   overstay   his   welcome   seconds   after   being   taken   in   .   just   asking   for   enough   to   make   the   hollow   feeling   at   his   center   go   away   .   “   no   !   “   it   leaves   his   lips   quickly   and   hopefully   .   “   i   wish   not   for   privacy   .   not   from   you   .   “   though   he   was   aware   that   he   did   indeed   need   a   bath   ,   wanted   the   bath   .   and   perhaps   it   was   wrong   ,   perhaps   it   would   be   one   more   sin   on   top   of   so   many   that   he   had   committed   throughout   his   life   –   perhaps   it   was   false   and   silly   to   want   them   to   stay   even   while   he   washed   himself   .   he   should   not   want   it   .   knew   of   the   horror   that   awaited   the   prince   once   fabric   came   off   .   the   scars   on   his   hands   a   small   indicator   of   what   waited   under   the   clothes   he   wore   now   .   but   …   augustus   had   made   a   point   of   holding   up   their   end   of   the   pact   .   in   return   ,   the   trust   in   the   guard   naively   grew   .   

“   i   will   wash   .   if   you   don’t   mind   .   and   drink   some   water   .   and   if   it   is   no   trouble   to   you   your   company   would   …   surely   add   to   my   comfort   .   “   in   contrast   to   auggie   not   one   to   fumble   with   his   words   ,   not   one   to   fall   over   the   syllables   and   yet   it   was   hard   to   deny   that   asking   for   as   much   as   their   attention   was   an   act   of   of   overcoming   his   own   fears   .   the   fear   of   realizing   that   perhaps   once   more   his   love   would   not   be   enough   .   he   would   not   be   enough   .   but   deeply   he   wished   he   could   be   .   

"alright, darling." the pet name is intentional this time, memory of how he'd nearly melted into their hand at its utterance the last time still fresh. "i will see to it. and if you want me to stay, then stay i shall." even if the idea almost immediately flashed ideas entirely too contrasted to how tender this moment felt. this is as bare as they've ever seen him, stripped of the uniform that seems to give him some semblance of confidence, in regular clothing, nothing entirely special or pristine, and yet already this feels so vulnerable. the idea of less, lord above, they're only a man. still, only thing at a time. it's a bit self indulgent, perhaps presumptuous, but as they turn to walk past him they pause, just to bring a hand to his cheek, a kiss pressed to his temple, a small smile flashed before they stride to the door. "i'll just be a moment."

though, true to their word, they don't leave, simply opening the door enough to stand in the doorway and motion a guard over, quietly instructing him to fetch other staff, requests for food and water, and a hot bath, and a stern warning not to concern himself with anything outside of his task. truthfully, they don't worry much for themself, but they know the repercussions for ilja would be worse, should anyone go running their mouth. the request for food and drink, at least, does not take long, but especially in this cold, the bath will take a bit of time. what they can offer ilja, truly, isn't much, but it's more than the couple bites of bread he asked for. he was no longer in the dungeons, and they would not tend to him as though he was. "has anyone looked at this?" they ask as they come back, setting things down, a hand going to his neck but careful not to touch, the injury looking...unpleasant. they're trying to keep their tone light, but as they can really take in the state of his neck, there's the thought that if king marius did not miss one guard enough to set him free, surely he wouldn't miss another.

a wiser man might have seen it coming, might have... at least anticipated something, right? magnus is not particularly wise, not when it comes to things of this nature. relationships, people genuinely caring for each other. that part of his brain has always been compromised. it's his own doing, and now once again, it turns out, he is to suffer the consequences.

see, magnus is leaving the viking camp in search of other, at this point familiar company. returning loyally, like a dog in search of its owner. on his way, though, a familiar face not only crosses his path, but rather - it seems intentional on their part that the two of them should run into each other. and judging by... he's not sure, something about the way they approach him, immediately reminds him of his latest interaction with their brother. despite trying to appear confident, nonchalant, he cannot help how his feet instinctively take a step back while he waits for them to approach. "are you lost, prince? the castle is in the other direction."

with this magnus, it felt different. tyr was not holding the weight of a lifetime of cruelty, the barely contained rage of someone barely a man, still in some ways a child. no, this was a pure protective urge, and they ignored the way the rage burned in a way they'd only seen outside of themself, from a man whose eyes haunted their dreams even now, looming guilt and the sick realization whatever rot had turned him into that had taken root in them, too. no, this rage wouldn't be like his. this rage they felt was...it was righteous, wasn't it? they have to believe it is.

it's this rage that keeps them advancing through the viking camp, scanning, searching. he had to be here, and they hardly cared whose bed they may have to drag him from, they would settle this. seeing him, finally, out in the open, they advanced. they don't respond to his quip, blade pulled the moment he's within distance for them to reach out and grab, yanking him forward and pressing the tip of the blade under his chin, the soft skin between jawbone and neck allowing some give. "i'm feeling rather generous, so i will let you decide something. do you want to be gutted here or should we go somewhere more private? it makes little difference to me."

he’s… not completely relaxed, but closer to it than he has been in at least a month. it’s strange, almost as if his body recognises this and slowly starts to untangle what knots he’s been working so hard on tying in frantic attempts to keep himself together. the tears unravelled some, and now for each time tyr’s chest rises and lowers along with their breaths, another, another, and another.

he should say something. maybe. feels some semi urgent need to explain himself, as if he’d need to assure them that this is fine, that he is fine, and that whatever it was that just had happened wasn’t a big deal, but- well. he doesn’t see the point in lying, so. he won't. furthermore, his words seem stuck in his throat again, and he’s uncertain if he’d be able to get any out even if he were to try. maybe he is too tired to speak, even. actually, he’s not quite certain how he feels. not entirely numb, but something similar to it. empty, in a way. drained feels accurate. with a tinge of embarrassing desperation for this, for tyr to stay, now that they'd come and he didn't have the energy necessary for the usual mental gymnastics required to justify why this might be too much. and, speaking of feelings: he's scared, too. of this. he can feel it - he's scared of both having this and being without it. he's not sure what he's supposed to do with that.

there's entirely too much they want to say now, and none of it feels like it's the right time for it. had things not been so uncertain the past months tyr would likely sneer telling him about the ridiculous assumptions kitty had made, the fact she'd sought them out at all, or scoffed about whatever woes seemed to grip arie so tightly he'd sought them out, or even ranted about vidar's newfound infatuation with these vikings, but. bringing anyone else into this moment, even in name alone, felt...wrong. it felt like an intrusion.

they don't know what to say, and this is far from the first time it's happened and it's unlikely to be the last, but still there is that push to fill the air with something, for will's sake more than their own. "i don't scare easily, you know." a boldfaced lie if they've ever told one, but will doesn't need to know that. "but that nonsense with that guard...it was a close thing. swords and guards and princes do not mix." they bring a hand up to will's chin, pushing lightly as though to get a better look at both eyes, before letting his head rest again. "you seem like you faired slightly better, though."

the warmth of their cup was comforting as beatriz stood outside, watching winnie play in the first snowfall. "now, do not go to far. the snow will swallow you whole," they warned before looking over to auggie when they heard her footsteps.

he would not say too much, the last time he'd done so william had refused it and the conversation had ended badly - even if it bad been regarding another matter. " i imagine it would make the world of difference if the two of you would speak to another, but i know he is stubborn and it's not my place. " he was almost certain it was will who would not speak, but he could only speak of what he knew. the viking looked to tyr with a smirk. " you're very pretty, prince. but I'm spoken for and im sure neither of us would want will to embarrass himself by attempting to injure me. “

his expression shifts to something far more uncomfortable when aksel suggests he and will speak. "that is not my decision to make. at this point, he will have to be the one who makes the decision to speak to me." he no longer meets aksel's eyes, his gaze again on the ground, arms crossed almost protectively, like that's enough to guard a bleeding heart. "even if it is only to tell me that seeing me as he now does has...irreparably damaged our standings." and maybe he could have schooled his expression a bit better at the mention of will trying to injure aksel, but. "he'd hardly injure himself seeking out that hungarian, which history has shown he's far more apt to do."