ALL EYES ON ME

" bread, of course. " predictable, but it had never failed him. he shouldn't have needed any food but most of that cake had landed on them instead of being eaten. he flashed will a grin and leaned back against the table. " we were together for a while, years ago, but then... we had reason to go our own ways. " he had never wanted it to be that way but fate had made it so. " i came to scotland and he was chasing a girl so i continued to bury it. now we are... well we're here. i love your brother and i'll make him happy if i can. "

“and,  this  love  you  feel  for  my  brother,”  he  says,  breaking  the  piece  of  bread  in  half  and  handing  one  of  the  pieces  over  to  the  viking.  “does  my  father  know?  because,  i  found  my  brother  in  what  is,  ah,  i  suppose  a  compromised  state-”  he  motions  to  his  eye,  “-  and-  well,  he  did  not  wish  to  speak  on  it,  and  so  i  will  not  ask,  though  i  do  assume  you  know  more  than  i  do-...”  words  seem  to  spill  out  of  the  prince  after  what  has  been  weeks  of  silence,  and  yet  he  cannot  bring  himself  to  quite  so  openly  name  his  cause  of  concern.  it  is  the  way  of  the  friesal  family,  perhaps,  at  least  amongst  the  siblings.  knowing  there  is  a  problem  and  possibly  indirectly  acknowledging  it,  but  not  discussing  it  so  frankly.  he  looks  at  the  piece  of  bread  in  his  hands,  eyebrows  knit  together  as  he  pauses  for  a  brief  moment  of  thought,  trying  to  name  specifically  what  it  is  that  he  wants  to  know.  “is  he  safe,  with  your  love?  because,  forgive  me  if  i’m  speaking  too  openly,  but,  leaving  his  room  in  the  early  morning  hours  is  not  very…  discrete.”

it  was  not  lost  on  him  that  kelem’s  normal  bubbly  personality  and  radiant  smile  were  absent.  although  he  had  anticipated  this,  witnessing  it  up  close  left  him  at  a  loss  for  how  to  uplift  her  spirits.  comforting  someone  wasn’t  something  oskar  was  adept  at,  and  secretly  wished  for  aksel,  or  even  magnus,  who  were  far  more  skilled  in  the  art  of  comforting.  

“only if  you  are certain that  your  friends  would  not  mind,”  she  says,  unsure  of  how  else  to  place  forth  the  question  of  whether  a  princess  staying  in  the  viking  long  house  might  become  a  cause  for  annoyance  for  some  of  the  other  clan  members.  not  that  she  thinks  of  herself  as  an  annoying  person,  she’s  not  opposed  at  all  to  the  idea  of  making  herself  useful  should  she  be  allowed  to  stay.  but,  well.  the  way  oskar  has  previously  tried  to  insist  that  her  mere  presence  in  the  camp,  before  she  had  a  reason  to  hide  away  in  it,  was  something  that  ought  to  be  avoided. 

he rose a brow, knowing that wasn't exactly true. then again, context is important. different contexts, different outcomes.

njal pulled himself up, sitting back on the log but away from the fire. "i apologize, lille ræv," he put his hands to the log so not tempted to reach out, "you know i never mean to upset you. you just look down," he moved one hand to rub the back of his own neck. "but clearly it is not the time."

"nothing is the matter," he says, words contradicting a displeased expression. "and-... in the case that something was, i'm fairly certain i would not wish to speak about it."

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.

there’s  another  laugh,  this  one  more  so  an  actual  laugh  rather  than  just  a  breath.  “aye,  it’ll be  much  better  she  learns  it  in  your  accent,”  he  offers  in  response,  eyebrows  arching  and  eyes  widening  for  a  brief  moment  before  his  expression  once  more  softens.  a  bit  hesitantly,  he  lets  go  of  their  hand  to  take  the  other  one;  guides  it  to  barely  graze  the  right  side  of  his  stomach,  just  below  his  ribs  -  eyes  now  very  much  intentionally  avoiding  theirs.  “here,”  he  says,  moves  their  hand  so  it  hovers  along  the  scar  before  firmly  placing  their  hand  back  to  where  it  had  been  previously,  letting  go  to  reach  for  the  other  one  -  resume  their  previous  position  to  swiftly  erase  all  evidence  of  the  short  explanation.  “anywhere  else  is  fine.  i  won’t  break.”  

he clears his throat. and, as if that had merely been a parenthesis, he jumps back to the previous topic. "i suppose i'll have to learn danish, then. as i remember, she has already been quite insistent on teaching me some words."

eyes connect with the guards, jaw tensing when he immediately regrets it - the way he still continues to soften under his gaze makes him feel weak. " you lied to me. " words spoken again, marius tried to let his fingers loosen from inside his palms. " you could have just told me, but instead everybody will know. they'll think you're some heartless killer and i'm the fool that turned a blind eye. " trying desperately not to soften under the guards gaze even now, marius directed his gaze to the ground. " you've made me look stupid and you've made yourself the enemy. how are we supposed to fix that? "

not  until  marius’  gaze  finally  meets  his  -  brown  eyes  meeting  heterochromia.  blue  and  hazel,  as  if  even  his  physical  features  remain  split,  two  different  worlds  with  no  balance,  never  a  chance  at  union.  now though,  secrets  have  met  honesty.  there  is  no  comfortable  space  in-between  the  two  to  exist  in.  there’s  this,  marius’  anger,  and  his  own  desperation  for  what  normalcy  he’s  been  dreaming  of  ever  since  things  had  started  to  change.  ever  since  marius  had  married  and  he’d  been  left  to  stand  by  and  wait.  he  swallows.  his  throat  feels  tight  and  he  is  unsure  of  how  he  is  supposed  to  get  any  words  out  in  this  state.  but,  if  nothing  else,  marius  had  looked  at  him  for  a  brief  moment  and,  perhaps  he  is  delusional,  but  he  is  fairly  certain  he’d  not  seen  hate.  anger,  yes,  but  not  hate. he grasps onto this thought.  “i  do  not  know,”  he  says,  truthful  now,  finally.  “i  do  not  know  but,  we  will.  i  will,  i  swear  it.”

if  her  initial  opinion  for  prince  william  was  positive,  it  was  swiftly  diminishing.  she  was  at  a  loss  of  what  she  could  have  done  to  provoke  his  immature  insults  and  teasing.  she  couldn’t  recall  ever  having  a  real  conversation  or  interaction  with  him,  yet  she  was  enduring  his  mistreatment.  

he smiles. knows fully well that he is being childish, can practically hear his mother using his full name to effectively scold him somewhere in the back of his mind. yet, he is in a mood, now. what that mood is exactly, he cannot say. all he knows for certain is that this woman is partially to blame. "i apologise for voicing my thoughts quite so frankly. maybe next time, you'll refrain from asking for it."

"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."

there are… so many words compressed into such short periods of time, at first he doesn’t know where to focus. what end to grab a hold of so that he may - if this is what he’s even supposed to do - begin to untangle the myriad of questions thrown at him. what alternated truth might be appropriate in response to why kitty doesn't like him, how popsy and he actually are becoming friends and so maybe not all hope is lost could too, eventually, maybe; or perhaps even his age, to begin with, because if he's old then... no, he doesn’t know, not until one of the questions hits him like a gut punch would. sort of… pulls the air out of him and leaves him breathless, fumbling, mentally scrambling for both words and a reason escape, whichever he could find first-

and just like that the storm of a princess leaves, is escorted out by a parent in such a loving way, and will is just… sitting there, cluelessly. forced to act normal when he familiarly suddenly feels like he might actually take his last breath any second now. to be reminded of his very dead mother and then witness such gentle parenting, from a father nonetheless, is far past what he had expected when guards had all but peeled him away from his chambers to bring him here. were he delusional enough, he might have named this as either a sick joke or something orchestrated by kitty in the name of revenge. he does know better, though. he’s not quite that far gone. halfway, perhaps, for having the thoughts, but… no. it is just life and god or fate or something along those lines doing what they do best - shove him to the ground and then laugh in his face.

and now augustus is speaking again and it takes a moment for him to snap back, so he’s fairly certain that he missed part of it - what other information? he is not opposed to the idea of women so long as they are not forced upon him, and- well... there is something else, too, of course. someone. but he will not speak of that. of them. “if this is about kitty’s-... ivar, i do not mind him. as long as he does not threaten me again, they can... i mean- i do not know any details of it, but ah- she seems fond of him. i have no plans to... to stand in the way of that.”

“   certainly   .   “   he   speaks   without   a   second   thought   on   it   ,   almost   feeling   as   if   excitement   over   it   would   be   a   shameful   thing   after   all   that   had   been   said   to   him   .   he   had   made   a   mistake   by   sleeping   with   her   before   wedlock   (   and   the   lack   of   intentions   for   it   )   ,   getting   excited   over   the   consequences   …   was   sinful   .   “   a   few   more   weeks   .   getting   closer   to   meeting   my   son   .   “   the   tipsy   prince   mumbles   before   drowning   his   words   in   another   sip   from   his   cup   .

he  watches  the  prince  take  a  sip  of  his  drink.  has  the  thought  that  perhaps  this  is  just  what  was  needed  for  arie  to…  pull  himself  together.  he  has  never  thought  the  prince  to  be  stupid,  merely  irresponsible.  a  child  can  heal  people  like  nothing  else.  he  has  seen  this  for  himself,  the  way  a  young  princess  has  been  one  of  very  few  things  that  has  kept  his  own  family  together,  united  in  regards  to  at  least  one  thing.  “a  son,”  he  says,  smile  warm  as  he  nods  in  thought.  “forgive me for questioning what reason you might have to celebrate. congratulations.”  

" we can do it now. i have time... if you do? " a smile appeared on the advisors lips. now or later, some other day, magnus only had to ask and he would show up. finnr knew better than to ever admit that he'd stepped away from his role as advisor to go in search of magnus - it didn't need to be said. they both knew. " it does, but i've grown used to sleeping outside of it. i may keep it that way. "

he  turns,  makes  his  way  over  to  his  bed  and  crouches  down,  reaches  beneath  it  to  pull  out  the  sword.  stands  up  straight  and  with  ease  slides  the  sword  into  its  sheath  already  secured  to  his  back  -  this  movement,  he  has  been  practising.  he  jogs  back  to  his  father  and  then  pushes  the  door  open.  “where  is it that you've been sleeping, anyway?”

chocolate   eyes   avoid   the   gaze   of   the   other   as   he   is   lead   to   sit   on   the   bed   .   good   .   his   legs   were   too   close   to   giving   in   .   “   this   is   your   lords   doing   .   you   must   be   proud   to   follow   him   .   “   arie   spits   out   words   like   bile   though   the   angry   was   not   directed   at   aksel   anymore   .   fighting   ,   scratching   ,   clawing   to   the   last   bits   of   dignity   –   the   rage   the   only   shield   from   crumbling   to   vulnerability   which   he   had   so   successfully   ignored   away   for   weeks   ,   months   –   maybe   his   whole   life   .   because   if   he   didn’t   ,   if   that   he   let   that   wall   shake   and   fall   …   then   perhaps   he   would   have   to   admit   that   from   the   day   he   had   first   seen   the   light   of   day   until   today   …   there   was   no   love   in   his   life   .   because   how   could   a   man   whose   parents   had   not   loved   him   be   loved   by   anyone   else   …   the   grimace   on   his   face   grows   colder   the   more   pain   spreads   through   his   body   until   it   is   magnus’   touch   that   makes   him   finally   look   at   the   other   man   .   “   i’m   bleeding   on   your   bed   .   “   the   prince   finally   speaks   ,   more   of   a   statement   rather   than   an   apology   .

“you certainly are, my lord. should someone else ever be lucky enough to see the stains up close, i shall tell them all about the brave prince who came to rest here after battle,” he says, offers a small smirk, and brings the rag up to carefully clean away what blood has ran from his nose, to see if it is all old and dried or if he is still bleeding. “we can hump in his tent later to get back at him if you’d like.” a jest said in very poor taste as he gently wipes away blood from the prince’s neck. perhaps in attempt to distract from the gruesome state of him, or in wanting to hear a softening of the tone of prince arie’s voice. the anger was a shield which he’d like to pry out of the prince’s hands. it would do neither of them any good right now. “now. i can fix your nose, so long as you promise not to get angry with me— where else are you hurt?”

Kitty wanted to visit Adam as soon as he was freed but had held off so that he could recover in his own time. What had been done to him… well, she did not know the full extent of it, but she knew enough to know space might be appreciated. Some wounds were better nursed alone or in the company of a person’s closest loved ones, where privacy and understanding were never in doubt. And so, she waited, until one day Nate suggested that Adam might enjoy a bit of company. It pleased her that he asked her to go. It felt like being trusted with something precious, because she knew Nathaniel wouldn’t invite just anyone into Adam’s company so soon after what happened.

Endeavoring to live up to that trust, she carefully considered what to bring. Popsy, so that Iggy might have a bit of fun too, and wine. It would come in handy whatever the mood Adam was in – sad or happy, alcohol usually found a role to play.

“Hey,” she greeted him with a soft smile, careful to hide any reaction she might have to unhealed bruises. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought this one along.” Kitty placed Popsy, whose tail had started thumping against her side immediately at the sight of his feathered friend across the room, down onto the floor. “Or this one,” she lifted the wine bottle she carried in her other hand up for him to see. “Thought it might be nice to have, if you’re interested.”

“hi,”  comes  the  reply,  meek, pathetic  -  not  sounding  quite  as  confidently  casual  as  he  had  aimed  for.  he  clears  his  throat,  and  then,  moves  aside  some  half  finished  knitting  to  make  space  for  her,  should  she  wish  to  sit  on  the  bed.  he  can  hear  iggy  clucking  with  familiar  curiosity  upon  being  reunited  with  a  her  friend,  though  he  does  not  turn  his  head  to  look;  trying,  still,  to  minimise  his  movements  as  much  as  possible,  not  quite  sure  what  state  he’s  in  yet - having just woken up from what was more likely a foul start at a night's sleep rather than just a nap.

"i don't mind at all," he assures her, pushing aside what embarrassment he feels as a result of being seen like this. "you're a sight for sore eyes, both of you. or, i guess, the three of you." he smiles. "literally, even."

" we sleep in tents. " the viking nodded her head. the longhouse was impressive, their clan had made no effort to build something so impressive and winter would be cold. they had survived similar and would again, even if her bed sometimes felt emptier than ever. " how about tonight? i would not turn down one night in the warm at least. if you have room. "

he  leans  away  from  her  then,  reaches  for  a  log  to  chuck  onto  the  fire  -  the  reason  he’d  been  sat  here  in  the  first  place.  as  he  sits  back  up  he  finds  himself  intentionally  closer  to  her  than  before.  "my bed is by no means large, though, so we will have to stay close." it's silly. it's a cliché, even, and it draws a chuckle out of him. "i hope you don't mind."

face to face at last, elric made no attempt to move out of his way, his jaw clenched, only made worse by the others petty greeting. " long time no see, " the trader repeated the others words and stepped forward leaving little space between the two. " why are you still here? do you wish to die? "

the  way  the  man  looks  at  him  as  if  he  is  something  that  ought  to  be  merciessly  dealt  with  -  brown  eyes  scan  him  as  if  to  judge  his  own  odds  in  surviving  should  he  have  to  defend  himself.  the  alcohol  in  his  blood  certainly  puts  him  at  a  disadvantage.  he  doubts  that  words  would  do  the  trick,  here, and yet, it is worth a try.  “why  am  i  still  here  as  in,  in  scotland?  surely  you  understand,  as  an  advisor  i  am  in  no  position  to  simply…  up  and  leave.  i  have  a  duty  to  fulfil. i shall... get out of your hair, though.” he holds his hands up defensively. "should you let me pass, my friend; i do not seek any trouble."

njal leaned up using his arms, "apparently failing at cheering you up," which usually he'd say he was relatively good at.

he pulled his legs closer, moving to a criss-cross position to sit up fully. "okay," he cleared his throat, grabbing his fur that fell off his shoulder to put back on himself. "what happened?"

"nothing happened," he says then, rolling his eyes and dropping his gaze to his hands in his lap before instead looking off into the distance - anywhere but at the other man. "i just do not like being manhandled."