#vikingsfandom

in the theatre of these lush green woods, under the canopy of trees, they put on shows for me with their wooden swords and blunt axes

he is lithe, bending and ducking away from his brothers’ swings. but when he strikes, it is considered and thoughtful but not careful - no, there is nothing careful about it

the force. swords collide like a thunderclap, the sound making me and whatever other mice who roam in this forest flinch

the boys laugh at me for some of my timidness but ubbe says, in private moments, that i am stronger than all of his brothers combined- “quiet strength,” he says, cupping my cheeks in his hands, “they know nothing about quietness” and we laugh because it is true

these are my favorite moments - the private ones when he stares into my eyes - because my pupils blow out and my face becomes like the moon - lit up, reflecting the sun’s beams.

today is a private moment. we are walking in the woods - it is spring and he picks berries as he walks, gathering handfuls and giving them to me to eat. sweet.

eventually we reach a calm riverbank and rest, sitting on the grass in front of each other

“you are beautiful today,” he says to me.

i smile, “what, am i not beautiful every day?”

“you know what i mean,” he tucks a stray hair behind my ear. his fingertips linger on the side of my head and i lean into his palm, humming at his touch. i close my eyes for a moment in peaceful bliss but only for a second, for i cannot bear to not look at him. his face.

his dark eyebrows that quirk in electric conversation, furrow in confusion, rise in amusement, harden in frustration

they frame his eyes. his special eyes. they are blue like rolling tides, and they are revealing. all one need do to peer into the emotional world of him is look into his oceanic orbs - they harbor his pain, confusion, sadness, anger, disillusionment. but today they are calm like a roman bath, and i wish to float them, suspended in weightlessness

he has sloping cheekbones, and gravity pulls my eyes down towards his lips

his eyes trace my movements, burning a path of desire across my face and he stares at my mouth too

and then, in this forest of calm sunshine, to the sound of a babbling brook, his soft lips meet mine. he knows when to push and pull, softly biting my lower lip and suckling as if he were pulling all of the juice out of a fruit. i melt into him, a pool of water at his touch. his tongue enters my mouth and gently dances with mine, teasing and joyous. his hands cradle my face and pull me even closer to him. we are so close that we are breathing in sync, the molecules of air divide into an atom for each of us before we exhale in gentle liveliness. we pull away only just to let in room for more air and his forehead rests against mine. there is a string of delicate spittle between our mouths, like a golden line drawn through the air, tracing our kiss, reluctant to part.

he sighs contentedly. “what are you thinking?” he asks me. “hm?”

“i think i love you.”