VBS - Dawn of the Gods: Prequel ~BL~

“That looks painful.”

With the cork of my water skin still gripped between my teeth, I turn in the direction the voice comes from. Blinded by the sun, I manage a quick glimpse of blonde hair and fine clothing before the rays force my eyes shut.

The boar’s tusk has gored through the soft tissue of my right arm, and with my left primed to flush it with water the best I can, I can’t shield my eyes to get a better look at the approaching stranger. My vulnerable position spikes my anxiety. I don’t make a habit of being caught off guard, and today it’s happened twice.

It wasn’t the boar’s fault. I’d been setting a snare and the youngling had startled straight into the trap. Setting it free had been a challenge. With only one working arm and the sun against me, the man currently striding over has me at a disadvantage. Pushing up on shaky legs, I do my best to shield my injury from view and turn to face my opponent. In my experience, people are infinitely more dangerous than any animal.

“Here, let me help.” He holds out his arm, uncaring that his fine leather boots are miring in a vile mix of blood and mud.

Without waiting for my answer, he grips the hem of his tunic in his teeth and tears off a long strip. Nudging his way closer, he ties it around my bicep - just above the wound that won’t stop bleeding - and deftly sets to clearing small bits of debris from the torn flesh.

Up close, I can smell the scented oils he uses. Something savoury with a hint of spice. A decorative braid swings loose from behind his ear, glass and pewter beads clanking softly. Everything about him screams prestige, and I instinctively stiffen. Nothing good ever comes from catching the attention of the elite.

“Sorry if I hurt you. I’m trying to be careful, but it’s full of dirt. The bleeding is finally slowing though. That’s good news.” He tilts his face up and the bluest eyes I have ever seen stare back at me.

“You didn’t.” I clear my throat of phlegm before clarifying, “Hurt me, I mean.”

I’m not used to speaking out loud. Nor am I used to being so close to other people. When was the last time someone treated me with any level of compassion? Never, at least not without wanting something in return.

“I have some fine pelts? Rare herbs? You can choose.”

He drops his gaze at my words, fine lines furrowing his brow as if confused. Silence stretches between us, but that’s not why my heart continues to pound in my chest. I have nothing else of value to offer, and the last thing I need is to be indebted to a member of an elite family. The thought of losing what little freedom I have makes the muscles in my jaw clench.

“I needed to escape,” the stranger eventually says. His low and calm tone is soothing, but I don’t trust it. Standing perfectly still, I watch him like a hawk as he inspects my wound. He takes the water skin from me and soaks a second torn-off strip of tunic with it. “Do my actions surprise you? Is it because of the clothes I wear? Or because I’m evidently from a House?

I grimace as he swipes at my wound with the cloth. “My Aunt makes that same face when I do something ‘not befitting’.”

He pauses as if lost in thought, deliberately catching my gaze and holding it for a moment. “Like the time that I bailed during an important meeting, and she found me three quarts into a cup of mjöd with the butcher’s apprentice.”

The corner of my mouth quirks up at the image he paints. He laughs loudly and the sound, along with his appearance, distracts me entirely from the throbbing pain in my arm. I don’t easily trust. Life has taught me not to. But there’s something disarming about this stranger.

I rest my head against the tree, forcing my gaze from the wheaten stubble that covers his jaw to the trickles of water and blood that flow down my arm. Drawing courage, I ask, “Are you supposed to be in another meeting now?”

He sets down the water skin and a wry smile spreads across his face. My mouth tilts up in a half smile in response. This stranger has a rebellious streak. “Thank you,” I offer, but instantly, the platitude feels less than. “I live out here, in the forest. I’m not used to this.” I use my good arm to motion between us.

His blue eyes widen as he looks around, taking in our surroundings. “By yourself?”

My bark of laughter fills the air around us. It’s been a long time since I had anything to laugh about - someone to laugh with. This man has absolutely no idea who I am. It’s refreshing. Will that change when I tell him my name? Will he recoil and make his excuses to leave?

“I am Modi.” I extend my good arm for him to take, as is the customary greeting.

He doesn’t hesitate to latch on to my forearm with a firm grip and holds my gaze as he introduces himself, “Fjolnir. Thank you for accepting me into your home. It’s beautiful.”A smile takes over my face. Maybe I was wrong before. Maybe I do have something I can offer him after all. “You’re welcome here anytime you need to escape. There’s plenty of peaceful spaces I can show you, ones no one else would know how to find.”

Fjolnir smiles in return, and I can’t help but notice the crinkle in the corner of his eyes.

“If you have time, I’d very much like for you to show me.”