Page 50 of The Magic of Vanaheim
Fidgeting beside him, Håkon was adorably excited about accompanying him on a patrol to the borders of Vanaheim and visiting the halls of Talvi’s sworn chieftains. He looked stunning on horseback, his fair hair and skin contrasting beautifully with the black leather of his armor, and Talvi couldn’t get enough of watching him. Many citizens of Saeborg had left their homes in the early hours of the morning to show their respect and wish them a safe journey.
Talvi could scarcely wait to escape the confines of the city and head out into the wilderness. If only his mothers would return, he could spend his days devoting himself to Håkon and showing his beautiful husband all the wonders of Vanaheim. Guiding his horse next to Håkon’s, Talvi rested a hand on his husband’s thigh as they made their way through the narrow streets of Saeborg’s lower town and toward the main gate. Håkon tensed up, still unused to public displays of affection. “Ready to see more of your kingdom?”
Håkon nodded, but didn’t meet Talvi’s gaze, instead looking almost bashfully to the ground. And although theVanirmet them with affection, some even throwing flowers at their feet, Håkon seemed to expect to get dragged off his horse and lynched by the citizens of Saeborg.
“The people of Saeborg don’t blame you for the raid. They know Bergelmir was the one who ordered it.”
“Still, I am your peoples’ sworn enemy. They’d be right to loathe and fear me. Not everyone is as careless as you are.”
“You don’t have to be our enemy. My people will respect you. I’ll make sure of it.”
“You can’t force this kind of respect,” Håkon mumbled, voice so low it was barely audible.
Snatching his husband’s hand and holding on to it for everyone to see, Talvi smiled. It was moments like this that he could clearly see what kind of person Håkon was behindhis carefully cultivated disguise as a fearlessJotunngeneral. There was so much kindness in him, so much wisdom and understanding for those not as fortunate in life as princes and mighty warriors.
“They’ll love you because I love you.” Talvi leaned over to whisper into Håkon’s ear.
Blushing fiercely, the bluish hue on his high cheekbones a beautiful match to the ice blue of his eyes, Håkon just stared at him for some long moments.
“You’re mad,” Håkon finally said, but his words were spoken low and breathless, full of wonder.
“Is that a bad thing?”
Chuckling softly, Håkon watched their joined hands as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Talvi’s heart beat faster at the admission. The gentle smile that touched Håkon’s lips, his more relaxed posture, and his almost playful tone gave Talvi hope Håkon might one day feel at home by his side.
“So you could still be swayed?”
Håkon’s grip on Talvi’s hand tightened. “We’ll see.”
“Good enough for me.” Actually, this wasmorethan Talvi had hoped for. Only a few weeks had passed since Håkon had come to the citadel, disguised as a princess, and already Talvi couldn’t imagine going back to a life without him. Håkon fit into his life—and his bed—seamlessly.
The first day of the summer trip was always a short ride along the fjord to Astrid’s shipyard and her hall. There, on the first evening of the journey, the master shipbuilder hosted a sumptuous feast.
Talvi rarely cared much for festivities and socializing, but with Håkon at his side, it was a different story. He loved introducing Håkon to his chieftains and friends as his husband, offering him the place of honor at his side at the feast, and serving up the best food for him personally. And he was relieved by the friendliness Astrid and her clan treated Håkon with. The hall was filled with the delicious scent of the banquet, and Thyra was reciting a frivolous poem to the laughter of the other warriors.
“Can I offer you some more mead?” Astrid asked. Her brown eyes were already a little glazed over and she was more than a little drunk.
“No, thank you,” Talvi answered, putting a hand over his cup. It wouldn’t do to start their journey tomorrow with a hangover.
“What about you, Håkon?”
“One more can’t hurt.” A little tipsy himself, Håkon looked unfairly cute. But he could obviously handle the alcohol better than Talvi. Relaxed and chatting animatedly with Astrid about the craft of boatbuilding, he was easily the most gorgeous thing Talvi had ever seen.
“That’s my man,” Astrid laughed as she filled Håkon’s cup again. “Reminds me of the summer when Ahti was too drunk to mount her horse the morning after the celebration.”
Talvi chuckled, but Håkon regarded him with a worried expression. Touching Håkon’s thigh reassuringly under the table, Talvi smiled at his husband, and Håkon mirrored his gesture by covering Talvi’s hand with his. How could this hardened warrior be so adorably soft at times?
“Mother wasn’t amused,” Talvi said with a wistful smile. These were memories from more peaceful days when their whole little family had still been together.
“Yeah, Vellamo was so miffed with her wife,” Astrid giggled.
“I saw Vellamo fight as a boy,” Håkon said carefully, always so concerned not to upset Talvi with a careless word. “A duel with a chieftain who questioned her claim to the throne, I think. She was a fierce little woman.”
“Oh, she is,” Talvi said, leaning over to Håkon. He couldn’t stop watching the play of the shadows cast by the fire on his husband’s face. “She’ll adore you. Both my mothers will.”