Names used: Sweden (Björn), Norway (Leifr), Denmark (Ketill), Finland (Þórfreðr/Tófi)
Tófi, child of Iðunn
"Come on Björn, let's go," Ketill calls out, clapping his hands as he walks away from the other two. "These villages aren't going to attack themselves."
"Idiot," Leifr complains, rolling his eyes. One of his hands is on Björn's shoulder as they watch the Dane disappear in the direction of water. "Hurry up, we don't want him to leave us here again."
"You liked it last time," the taller Viking teases, kissing the other's cheek before bending down. That's when Leifr's hand falls from his body, the striking Norse watching him move.
The little boy comes barely to Björn's waist, so young and fragile but already obviously like them: different, forever young, his immortality a sign that he too is a child of Iðunn, their precious Norse goddess who watches over them.
He flinches a little as Björn reaches out a hand to stroke his cheek. The boy is beautiful like Leifr with his pale skin and light blond hair. But his eyes, unlike the indigo ones of Björn's lover, are purple in their color like the Viking has never seen in another, deep and rich like a jewel.
There's the sound of shouting behind them as the men ready the boat for its next voyage. From his pouch Björn removes a bracelet made of gold, beautiful in its design. On the little Sami's wrist it's too large, so Björn pushes it upward until it rests easily on the boy's upper arm.
A hand holds the little one's head steady while Björn kisses his forehead, Swedish eyes closing as he inhales the smell of the other's hair.
Purple eyes meet his sea-green ones as the boy holds up his arm in an unspoken question, inspecting the item. "For you," Björn tries to explain. "From me-" he points to himself "-to you-" he points to the boy "-as a gift." It takes the child a few more seconds to seem to understand something. He nods and smiles, pulling something small from his pocket to hand to the older man. "For me?" He points to himself again; the boy nods.
It's a tattered piece of fabric that's been dyed green. It takes Björn a second to register that it's the same color as his eyes; that makes him smile wide.
"Thank you Tófi," he whispers, bowing his head to receive his own kiss to the forehead. The little boy, unnamed when the three Norse immortals had found him, scurries away.
"I will never understand," an emotionless voice says above him, "why you spoil Þórfreðr like that? The boy is to be conquered, not coddled."
Björn, standing, lets his lips form a sly grin on one side of his mouth as he turns to the other man, pulling him to his body. "Are you jealous Leifr?"
The Norseman tuts. "Either conquer him or forget him; I do not like that you think of him when you should only think of me."
He kisses his lover tenderly, holding him tight. "Do not fret Leifr; Tófi will never come between you and I." With one last look back, the little boy's eyes glinting in the light, Björn sets off towards the boat with an arm around the smaller man's shoulders, ready for the next raid.
The worthless square of fabric is placed in his pouch where the precious gold bracelet had been, their value equal to Björn.