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"I could tell it by that look."
Crystallized irises, surrounded by long, pale eyelashes, and hidden under thick golden fringe—that was the look Askeladd was talking about.
Cold, composed and imperturbable, the prince was watching him twenty steps away.
The snow made it difficult to move forward, boots pressing into his ankles.
"You are more fit to command than me and King Swein, your father."
Askeladd held Bjorn’s weight on his left shoulder. He struggled a little, his breath slightly short. Small white clouds came out of his chapped lips as he spoke to his prince, turning his back.
"I could tell it by that look."
The prince’s hair waved in the air, blowing in the wind. The long red cloak concealing his tall and slender figure had opened in the center, revealing a turquoise dress with garlands at the end of it.
The prince didn’t open his mouth, not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he knew it wasn’t the time to ask stupid questions.
Of course, something left him bewildered. Everything about Askeladd left him bewildered. It was hard to predict his moves; he wouldn’t leak any information, except for when it suited him. In short, Askellad remained a mystery to all the men who had met him, even to the prince himself, and now his figure was fading in the midst of the storm.
The sun had given way to the cold and icy darkness of the moon. High up, thousands of stars sprinkled the black sky, illuminating the road submerged by snow.
Canute approached Thorfinn’s unconscious body. The prince turned him around and felt his wounds with his cold hand: a bruise on his nose and a lot of scratches on his cheeks.
He ordered Thorkel to take Thorfinn’s body to one of the royal chambers and have his wounds treated. In return, Thorkell got his own box of wine.
______
Retiring to his room, Canute took off his cloak and laid it on the bed. He sat in an armchair, his elbow resting on the armrest and his legs crossed one over the other.
In front of him, there was a circular mirror; he looked at his reflection cast upon the pristine surface. How much have I actually changed? He wondered.
What did Askeladd realize from his gaze? Was he really worthy of ascending the throne by overthrowing his father? He was tired of watching multiple battles fought over useless pieces of land.
He was tired of God, having fun putting them to the test and seeing them killed without intervening, waiting to judge them only once they were dead.
He made this promise to himself and to the only man who truly appreciated him, Ragnar. He would take the reins of the situation, bringing an end to the miserable wars caused by previous kings.
So, he would have to make up for other people’s mistakes.
Canute sighed and massaged his temple, his fingers still frozen.
That night another party would be held in his honor. Probably, it was Thorkell who arranged it, or maybe one of his men. He wasn’t in the mood for another loud party full of drunks, but he couldn’t resist something prepared just for him.
______
Canute went down to the tavern full of people. As soon as they noticed him, everyone raised their horns in his honor, clapping and shouting.
Canute raised his hand in greeting and sat in an armchair. Someone had already brought him food and drink, and he thanked them politely.
At his side, a chair was empty. Askeladd would not come. Where did he go?
Then, the crunch of the wood brought him back to reality.
"Prince! Were you waiting for me?"
Canute turned. "Askeladd!"
The man chuckled and filled the empty chair. He sipped wine from his horn and looked at Canute serenely.
"Forgive me, Prince, but I had a matter to resolve. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you alone at this banquet."
Canute blinked a couple of times. He didn’t really understand that man. He turned around and looked back at the chaos reigning over the tavern.
For a moment, he closed his eyes and imagined that he was still in his room surrounded by silence. His head seemed ready to burst.
"I see you don’t like the mess, do you?" Askeladd chuckled.
"I hate it. Every loud noise hurts me." Canute sighed.
"That means you have very sensitive ears." Askeladd smiled.
"Unfortunately for me, having them in these places is a torture."
"Do you want me to walk you out? Not even to-"
"Askeladd! Come here and challenge me! You promised me this morning, remember?" Thorkell screamed, grabbing the attention of all those present. He seemed to be angry with Askeladd.
The other man snorted. He turned to the prince as if to give him an apology.
Canute made a laugh-like sound, covering his mouth with his hand. "Don’t worry, Askeladd. I’ll go outside and relax a bit."
The prince got up and left his post, disappearing in seconds.
Askeladd continued to observe the empty chair of the prince. He would have preferred to converse with him a thousand times over.
"Askeladd, will you hurry?"
"Yeah, yeah, I’m coming." Askeladd was exasperated. Reluctantly, he went to sit in front of Thorkell.
The evening lasted a long time. The tavern was reduced to a minefield with chalices and horns poured on the ground. Only around two o'clock, all the noise stopped.
Everyone had returned to their room (if they were allowed to have one).
Finally, a little peace, thought Askeladd, lying on his bed. Unfortunately for him, however, even with the silence, he was not able to fall asleep.
He had been suffering from insomnia for a couple of nights, which has never happened in his career. He tried everything: he moved the pillow, turned over several times on the mattress, even tried to lie on the ground, but nothing helped.
Taken by a slight moment of nervousness, he threw the pillow, which slammed into the closet. Fortunately, the sound wasn’t loud enough to wake someone in the next room.
Behind the balcony, there was a small wooden terrace. Perhaps a breath of air would stimulate his drowsiness.
The view was nothing—Both because it was dark, and because this was a common guest room, not designed with luxury in mind.
Not far away, he saw a figure leaning against a marble railing. He immediately recognized the long blond hair blowing in the breeze.
Askeladd couldn’t call to get his attention, else he’d wake up the whole building. From the sole of his boot he took a wedged pebble and threw it towards the marble.
The prince was frightened. He turned his head and saw Askeladd staring at him with a grin as he waved his hand.
Canute greeted him and asked him what he was doing there at that time of night. He obviously could not speak, so he used the sign language he had learned from Ragnar.
So educated? Askellad thought. 'I couldn't sleep,' he replied.
'Come in my room so we can talk peacefully,' Canute answered.
Askeladd smiled cautiously, heading for the prince’s room.
It was definitely bigger than his own. Everything was still in order; it seemed that it had not been in use for long. He reached Canute and settled next to him, leaning his elbow on the marble.
"How did you know I knew sign language?" A grin formed on the bearded man’s lips.
Canute timidly played with a strand of his hair. "You are a cultured and cunning man, Askeladd. I just guessed."
"A good guess.. Good job, smart prince." After that, Askeladd tilted his head slightly, receiving a grunt from the blond boy in response.
"Now I want to know the truth."
Askeladd’s tone gave Canute goosebumps. The prince turned, looking at the dark horizon. His hair acted as a wall between him and the wrinkled face of the older man.
"I needed to talk to you."
You did? You could have done it tomorrow, right? But Askeladd didn’t ask him.
"Anything for you, your Highness."
A few minutes of silence followed. The only audible sound was the rustling of the leaves swaying on the branches.
Askeladd eagerly awaited the prince’s words. The stretching silence made what Canute was about to say seem all the more important.
And then, he spoke.
"What did you mean before, during the storm? What did my gaze really convey to you, Askeladd?" Canute’s knuckles whitened as his hand pressed on the marble.
Askeladd sighed loudly. "I knew you’d ask. You’re a bit predictable, you know prin-?"
"Answer."
What a change of nature, Askeladd thought, scratching his beard.
Then, he opened his eyes and faced the prince, who seemed less like a prince and more a young boy angered with his father because he didn’t take him along on his hunting trip.
"Would you like to know what I think of you? You are so interested in the opinion of a simple vikin-"
"Askeladd, don’t mock me with your stupid jokes."
The old man stared at him for a while. He didn’t expect all that impatience from the prince.
From Askeladd’s lips came a puff, followed by a small laugh.
Canute turned to stare at him, his wrinkled brow making the old man smile.
"I have seen the gaze of a true king—of someone who, overnight, has decided to bear all the sins of the previous kings—someone with a specific dream."
Soon after, Canute’s eyes lit up. Askeladd looked deeply into those crystalline eyes..
"I want to build a paradise on the earth. I want to drag the Vikings away from the horrors of this stupid and useless war. I will become a leader, and..." Canute took a deep breath. His grip on the marble became more decisive.
"...I will also become a demon, if I have to," he concluded, lowering his head. Then, something cold touched his arm.
"You are far too pure, Prince, and you will remain so. I can assure you." Askeladd tightened his grip slightly, taking care not to bruise him.
Canute’s eyes rested on Askeladd’s hand. "Do you say that because of my angelic and androgynous appearance?"
"Not only that. A demon wouldn’t stop the war and save poor souls."
Canute desperately tried to hide the blush that spread over his cheekbones—a scene tender enough to warm Askeladd’s stone-cold heart.
The man approached the prince and tucked a golden lock of hair behind his ear. With his thumb, he stroked the younger man’s cheek.
Canute, on the other hand, was so embarrassed he could only look away. He had never found himself in such close proximity with another man besides Ragnar, but now Ragnar was gone.
"Your Highness. Are you uncomfortable with my sudden approach?"
"No, it’s just… No one has ever dared approach me so casually, other than Ragnar." The prince’s voice trembled.
"I think not to spoil such beauty."
"Because they were afraid, Askeladd. You would be executed if you laid so much as a scratch on me."
Canute was pampered by the warmth of Askeladd’s hand. Maybe it was wrong to relax so much in front of a man like Askellad, but after all he had done for him, the least he could do was give him some confidence.
Canute took Askeladd’s hand and examined it. It had multiple cuts on its back and chapped knuckles. Despite these, touching his skin felt more like touching a white sheet than the hand of an old man.
Askellad chuckled. "The years have led me to accumulate many scars."
"It hurts a lot?" the prince asked innocently. His look resembled that of a child worried about his father.
Askeladd burst into a thunderous laughter. "Prince! You are so gracious to a man like me! It cheers me up-"
The prince covered the old man’s mouth with his hands. Now the two were extremely close.
"Askeladd, lower your voice! Someone might hear us!" Canute whispered with a note of panic in his voice.
Askeladd laid his hands on the young man’s tight waist. So, even a man can have gentle features, he thought.
Canute frowned and pushed Askeladd’s dark armor, trying to drive the man away, but Askellad showed no signs of moving.
A gust of wind struck the two, causing Canute’s hair to hit Askeladd’s face.
The young boy gasped and tried to apologize to the man, pulling his hair back.
"Don’t worry, Your Highness, this hair wouldn’t hurt a fly." Askeladd passed his wrinkly fingers over the long blond locks.
Canute searched his pocket. "I have something to tie it up. Would you like to help me?"
Askeladd took the turquoise ribbon in his hands and picked up the thick golden hair, fashioning it into a high tail.
Now, the prince's face was more visible.
So round and candid. Askeladd coughed, as to draw attention to himself.
"Your Highness. May I ask you a private question?"
The Prince nodded.
"Have you ever kissed anyone?" Askeladd grinned.
"Have you been drinking?" The prince became worried.
Askeladd suddenly approached the boy. "I don’t drink alcohol the night before an important meeting." The tone and the look on his face were deadly serious.
Canute stared at him. Although Askeladd’s look made his bowels tremble, he did not see Askellad as a threat.
Then he took a deep breath. "No, Askeladd, I haven’t."
The old man’s lips curled upwards, knowing what he was walking into. When would he have such an opportunity again?
He cupped Canute’s face and slowly approached him. The brush of their noses was icy. Any closer, and their lips would graze.
Inside, Canute struggled between the urge to run away and forget this ever happened, or staying there beside the man, helplessly waiting for them to kiss.
Would Canute have sinned? Well, it was no longer his problem. God had abandoned them on earth. A kiss could not compare to what he had already done to men.
When their mouths touched, Canute gasped against Askeladd’s icy, chapped lips.
Being inexperienced, he had no idea how to behave. His hands were anchored behind the elder man. Canute was tremendously rigid, as though he was once again the silent prince who spoke only to his servant.
Askeladd noticed this, so he moved his hands to the prince’s hips, leaving the prince a chance to cling to him, which he did shortly afterwards.
Canute felt more comfortable in that position. He also took part in the kiss, moving his lips in sync with Askeladd’s. The boy blushed darker, the redness even reaching his ears.
When they pulled apart, Canute was breathless, and his lips were slightly swollen from the pressure.
Askeladd laughed, satisfied with the result.
"Not bad as a first experience, Prince!" commented Askellad contentedly.
"I guess it was different for you. You must have kissed so many women," Canute taunted him.
"It’s true, you’re absolutely right, but a lot of people were just interested in my money, you know? That’s hypocritical. While you are different. You're already rich, so I won’t run into that problem. Besides, I would never disdain being your lover. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever met in my life, or boy, if you prefer."
Canute narrowed his eyes and snorted, but he was accustomed to those comments which he had long since gotten over.
Askeladd took the young man’s hand and kissed his smooth knuckles. "Let this sweet little secret remain between us."
Canute looked into Askeladd’s blue irises which glowed with pride. He could only accommodate his proposal, nodding softly. He closed his eyes and let Askeladd’s hands pamper him a little more.
It was terribly late. They had spent the whole night chatting like two old friends.
Askeladd withdrew from the marble and bowed before the Prince, announcing that he would retire to his chambers, but before he could leave the terrace, Canute’s hand dragged him back.
A confused Askeladd turned his head, and at that moment, Canute’s lips landed on his cheek—a gesture that caught Askellad off-guard.
A small smile formed on Canute’s face. He lifted a finger to his lips and winked at Askeladd, who still seemed upset about the incident, but then he let a laugh slip.
"Good night, Prince." Askeladd waved his hand, disappearing into the tents.
"Good night, Askeladd." Canute remained outside, admiring the bright constellations in the night sky. His body was a whirlwind of emotions, his lips burned and his fingers tingled.
It would be difficult for the prince to fall asleep that night.