and so, thorfinn sat now outside your tent, knife glinting faintly in the moonlight, his profile sharp and cold. he didn’t move. he didn’t speak.

thorfinn’s presence was impossible to ignore, even in the quiet of the night. the pale light of the moon traced the hard angles of his face, highlighting the sharpness of his jawline and the tense set of his lips. his skin, slightly weathered from years of battles and harsh winds, held a faint sheen of sweat, a reminder of the relentless intensity that defined him. dark locks of hair, unruly and thick, hung in front of his eyes, occasionally brushing against the curve of his cheek like restless shadows. despite the stillness, you could almost see the storm inside him—an ocean of rage, grief, and something far more fragile that he refused to reveal.

his hands, calloused and strong, rested lightly on the hilt of his dagger—a weapon as familiar to him as his own breath. the blade caught the moonlight now and then, a quiet shimmer that betrayed the cold precision with which he wielded it. fingers twitching subtly, he never fully relaxed; every muscle seemed ready to spring into motion at a moment’s notice. the way he held himself spoke of a warrior born for battle, yet there was an unmistakable tension

he just watched.

and waited.

you lay awake, voice low but mischievous as you finally broke the silence.

“you hate this, don’t you?”

no answer.

you smirked to yourself, shifting beneath the blanket.

“don’t worry, i’m not that scary. though, you do look like you’re about to kill someone.”

still nothing.

“hey, do you even know what a smile is? or is that forbidden on guard duty?”

you heard a quiet sigh, but no words.

“you know, you could at least say ‘goodnight’ or something. it’s polite.”

no response.

“fine, be that way. i’ll just assume you’re practicing your brooding face. very intimidating.”

after a pause, his voice came, dry and low:

“i don’t have time for jokes.”

you laughed softly.

“sure you don’t. but hey, you’re stuck here with me all night, so you might as well try.”

silence.

another pause.

“are you always this moody, or am i just special?”

you heard a faint shuffle as he shifted, but he said nothing.

“maybe if you talked more, you’d scare off the bad guys better. silent types are overrated.”

no reply.

“or are you waiting for me to fall asleep so you can sneak away?” you teased.

a deep breath, then his voice, rough but low:

“not a chance.”

you laughed softly

“see? you care a little.”

“don’t get used to it.”

“too late,” you said with a grin. “i’m already planning our next adventure — or at least figuring out how to annoy you more.”

he didn’t answer, but you thought you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“you know,” you said, “guarding me can’t be that bad. you get to stare at me all night.”

“i’d rather stare at the moon.”

“sure you would,” you teased. “but i’m more interesting, right?”

his voice, almost a growl this time:

“don’t push it.”

you smiled, warmth spreading despite the cold night.

silence again, but something unspoken hung in the air between you.

“so, still planning to run off in the middle of the night, or have you finally decided i’m not worth the trouble?”

he didn’t answer, but the slight twitch of his mouth told you he heard you.

“you know, for a guy who looks like he’s about to stab someone at any moment, you’re surprisingly good company.”

a low grunt was his only response.

“that’s it? no clever comeback?” you teased. “i thought you were supposed to be the quick one.”

he shifted, boots scraping the dirt. “words are wasted on you.”

“ouch,” you said with mock offense. “you’re cruel.”

“i’m honest,” he muttered.

you laughed softly. “same thing, really.”

another pause, then you ventured, “you ever get tired of being so serious all the time?”

“never,” he said flatly.

“hm, sure,” you said, smirking. “that’s what i thought.”

he gave a soft snort, almost a laugh, but caught himself. “don’t make me regret this.”

“too late,” you whispered, but it wasn’t harsh. more like a challenge.

the night wrapped around you like a secret, filled with quiet words and stolen smiles. for all the darkness, it was the first time you felt the cold guard soften, if only just.

“so,” you said, nudging the tent flap open a crack, “what’s your next brilliant plan? stare at me all night until i fall asleep?”

“maybe,” he said, voice low but not unkind.

“well, you’re doing a terrible job,” you teased.

the night was deep and still, the only sounds the faint rustle of leaves and thorfinn’s steady breathing. 

“hey,” you whispered, poking your head out of the tent flap. “you know, this guard duty doesn’t have to be so boring.”

he glanced at you, eyes narrowed but curious.

“what if we went and got some food? together,” you suggested, voice low and teasing.

thorfinn’s lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. “you want me to break orders?”

“maybe,” you grinned. “but think about it. it’s late, everyone’s asleep. no one would even notice.”

he shook his head, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “you’re reckless.”

“and you’re a little boring. perfect balance,” you said.

he sighed but took a step closer. “fine. but if we get caught, you’re explaining it.”

“deal.”

you didn’t move right away. you watched him, how the moonlight hit his face sharp and cold, like stone that didn’t know how to soften. and yet… here he was. agreeing to sneak off with you for something as simple as food.

“you know…” you let the words hang there as you walked beside him, voice low but teasing. “you agreed to getting food pretty quick. i think you like spending time with me. you just don’t know how to say it.”

his shoulders stiffened. for a second, he didn’t even glance your way.

“no,” he said finally, flat and blunt as always. “i just don’t want to listen to you complain all night.”

you smiled anyway, leaning forward slightly as if your grin alone could chip away at his walls. “sure, thorfinn. whatever helps you sleep at night.”

he said nothing, but you saw the twitch of his jaw, the barest flicker of something behind his eyes.

you fell into step beside him as he led the way through the quiet camp. the fires had burned down to low embers now, the silhouettes of sleeping men scattered in the dark. only your footsteps and the faint rustle of grass marked your path.

“you’re not denying it though,” you said softly after a moment.

this time, he did look at you. just once. his gaze was steady but unreadable. “i don’t need to.”

that stopped you.

the air between you shifted. heavier. warmer. like silence suddenly meant something.

for a heartbeat, you forgot what teasing even felt like.

then, as if remembering himself, he turned away again, cold and unreadable. “you talk too much.”

you blinked, trying to steady your voice as you caught up beside him again. “and you listen too much.”

his jaw tightened.

you smiled wider, choosing playfulness over nerves. “see? we make a good pair.”

he didn’t argue.

which, in thorfinn’s world, felt dangerously close to agreement.

you followed him down the small hill where askeladd’s men kept spare supplies. your footsteps were quiet, but your thoughts were loud—too loud. you shouldn’t have said half of what you’d said. shouldn’t have felt half of what you were feeling. he was only here because your father forced him to be.

yet… he stayed.

you let the silence linger, choosing to let him think you’d let the conversation die. but inside, you couldn’t stop watching him.

he moved like a blade—silent, sharp, efficient. every step was controlled, every glance a calculation. he didn’t waste words. didn’t waste anything.

except, apparently, time on you.

“where’s the food?” you whispered, scanning the small storage crates.

“there,” he answered simply, crouching near one of the crates and pulling out a wrapped bundle of dried meat and flatbread.

you knelt beside him, close enough to feel the faint warmth radiating off his skin. he smelled faintly like smoke and earth.

“you’re good at this,” you murmured.

he frowned slightly. “good at what?”

“taking care of things you don’t want to.”

his fingers stilled on the bread. you wondered if that was too much. too close to the truth he didn’t want to hear.

before he could answer, you leaned back, trying to soften the moment. “well, lucky for me, i’m charming enough to make it tolerable.”

“hm.”

“that was almost a laugh.”

“no, it wasn’t.”

“i think it was.”

“stop talking.”

you laughed softly, but your voice lowered, almost fond now. “make me.”

his hands froze on the food.

the silence came back—different this time. thicker.

you swallowed, glancing down. “sorry.”

he shifted, not meeting your gaze. “you’re… not like them.”

you frowned slightly. “who?”

“your father’s men.”

you watched him carefully. “is that a good thing?”

he hesitated. then said, quieter, “maybe.”

you didn’t realize how long you stared at him until he stood abruptly, bundle of food in hand.

“come on,” he said, voice low. “before someone wakes up.”

you followed, heart racing for reasons you couldn’t name.

back up the hill, you found a quiet spot behind a low tree where the camp couldn’t see you. you sat together, not quite close, not quite distant, sharing stolen bread under the stars.

you chewed in silence for a while, glancing at him now and then. thorfinn ate like he fought—quiet, focused, quick.

but something about the night, about sitting beside him with no one else around, made everything feel… different. like neither of you had to pretend.

“this feels like trouble,” you whispered softly.

he glanced at you. “it is.”

you smiled faintly. “good.”

he shook his head like you were impossible but didn’t move away.

the night stretched on, and for once, you didn’t mind the silence.

because even without words, you knew he was listening.

and for now, that was enough.