Alfred, true to the blood running through his veins, acclimated well to the life of a Viking.

Almost too well.

Ivar had his suspicions of course. How could he not think of betrayal and espionage? If Ivar was Alfred, endurance, allegiance, and deception would be key to returning home. The notion wasn't too far fetched - become a Viking, form a semblance of trust within the ranks of heathens, and return with the Vikings when they again invaded Wessex and Mercia. After all, this was a tactic used once before by a man not too unlike Alfred himself.

And, as most knew, Ivar The Boneless fully intended on returning to Wessex. The land and people were his to do as he pleased, as confirmed by the Gods and his father. There would soon be another day that Ivar and his world linked the lands by sea and blood.

Whether or not that blood belonged to the little Christian was yet to be determined.

Thoughts of blood and Alfred became all the more appealing as Ivar narrowed in on loose waves of chestnut and a chest half bared to the public. That would not do.

Children of many ages circled Alfred, listening with intent ears and wide eyes. A particularly young child crawled into the Christian's lap and looked onto Alfred as if Thor himself was telling tales. It wasn't surprising that the Wessex Prince gathered such a crowd of young admirers. His face ripped through expression after expression, mirroring the characters he was portraying. His voice rose and lowered, depending on who he was channeling, and his eyes radiated warmth and ease.

As his story must have came to a close, a signature bright, infectious smile split the Christian's face. All the children laughed, but thereafter quickly lost joy as they saw their entertainer stand to leave.

"One more, Alfred!" demanded a boy in the crowd.

"Please Alfred, what of the giant and the hen?" asked a girl with intricate braids.

Alfred's hand rubbed the back of his neck in a bout of what could only be bashfulness. "Next time. I'll tell them all again next time."

Loud and childish groans were his reply.

Their eyes then met, and Alfred's smile widened.

If it had been a few new moons ago, Ivar would have believed the light to be playing tricks. Or Loki to be impersonating a Christian.

But now...

Alfred quickly made his way to Ivar. "Ivar, what brings you here?"

Ivar straightened his spine, blue eyes narrowing in suspicion. "I am Ivar The Boneless. I can go wherever I please whenever I please."

Alfred laughed, thick with humor and ending with a smile even brighter. "Of course, I wouldn't suggest otherwise. I just meant-"

Red high on his cheeks, the Christian averted his eyes for a moment. He quickly looked up again, determination set in his gaze.

"I meant to see if you were here with purpose. I would ask your company if not."

Ivar lifted a brow but acquiesced none-the-less.

It seemed Alfred had a destination in mind, walking with purpose through the village.

"Are you plotting my death little Christian?" Ivar asked, almost amused at the thought as they passed the village outskirts. Greenery became wilder and more overgrown with every step they took. Only the moon lit their way, casting peculiar shadows across the slightly less overgrown path.

Ivar caught a knowing smile. "And if I was?"

The taller man paused to think. "Then I would be disappointed."

Alfred didn't seem to care for that response, not until they reached a clearing with short grass. A tree old and knotted from roots to stem hung over half the clearing, leaves and branches limp and thin. They almost looked to be vines with the way they dangled from some heights.

It must have been the destination all along, as Alfred immediately sat underneath the tree. Ivar assumed he was meant to sit also, but he remained standing. Alfred grinned in response. If Ivar wasn't suspicious before, his hackles were surely raised now. He could feel his shoulders tense.

"It has been a while since we spoke like this. Just you and I."

Ivar rolled his eyes. "Feeling abandoned little Christian?"

Alfred shifted. "Perhaps. We're to be friends, are we not? Conversation is the best path to that."

Endurance, allegiance, deception.

Ulterior motive was a sixth sense to Ivar. Alfred reeked of ulterior motive. Ivar's only doubt was the grey-eyed sincerity staring into his soul.

Ivar huffed and sat. Just far angled enough to see Alfred's face, yet close enough to reach across and touch.

"Then let's converse," Ivar began, adjusting his metal braced legs. "You demand far too much of me for a captive."

Alfred cocked his head. "Perhaps you should have made me a slave instead."

Ivar finally laughed. "I know you little Christian. Demands would still leave that mouth of yours as surely as war always comes," Ivar paused, a dark thought flitting through his mind. "But maybe if you were a slave, I could have then enjoyed your punishment that followed."

Ivar could not see it, but he knew a flush stained Alfred's skin at his words. The little Christian shifted almost uncomfortably. Punishment, humiliation - Alfred was surely flustered at the thought.

Bravery seemed strong within this Christian though, his soft eyes meeting Ivar's own. "You know as well as I that punishment is just as possible now. Yet I do not hesitate in my words."

"You should-"

"Or what? You'll strike me?" Alfred interrupted, an air of confidence to him. "Perhaps I'll just run. I wonder how long it would take for you to-"

Ivar lunged, tackling Alfred backwards. Thin shoulders impacted with the ground, held firmly down with rough hands. Ivar's teeth and mouth pulled into a snarl, metal-clad legs a heavy weight on Alfred's waist and hips. The lean man wouldn't be going anywhere without Ivar moving. He felt his chest heave, hovering over the Christian. He could think of many ways to misuse him.

And as the moon's light illuminated the soft curves of Alfred's pretty face, all of Ivar's thoughts of punishments began taking a twisted form. The lean man under his body, soft yet firm in all of the right ways, pliable to his whims. A fierce heat curled deep within him, and desire circulated through his blood hand in hand with fire. Alfred's eyes peered up through thick lashes, brazen longing battling humor, and Ivar went blank.

"I do not fear you, Ivar," the little Christian said. Bold, Alfred brought a slender hand between them to touch the line of Ivar's jaw, a knowing smile upon his lips.

Ivar felt the hunger of a beast in that moment.

The hand upon his jaw pushed his face towards the left. "You should get off. Look! You'll miss the reason that I brought you here."

Around the clearing, almost in a full circle, hundreds of dim lights slowly came to life. They began to rise and float through the air a few feet above their heads, circulating on the breeze.

Alfred gently pushed into a seated position, face bright with wonder as he gazed at the bugs flitting around them. Ivar rose with him, hands unclenching from the hold they had.

Alfred watched the spectacle intently, sharing his amazement fervently with Ivar. "Have you ever seen such a unearthly sight Ivar? I rather hope not after I've made you come so far."

"Kattegat has far more enchanting visitors. Gods, faeries, creatures that will give you nightmares." Ivar felt an odd rage. Alfred would enjoy his home far more than the lands of an upstart King. "This is nothing in comparison."

Alfred's did not stray from the scene, but he acknowledged Ivar's words. "Perhaps. There's many things about these lands that feel odd and beautifully tragic. I'd enjoy seeing more."

"It is settled. We will return to Kattegat by the next fortnight. We shan't wait for Rollo any longer."

Alfred whipped his head to look at Ivar, surprise clear. "So quickly? You're sure?"

Ivar stood, the tree being of use. "No long faces Christian. I feel vengeance is upon us. Besides, your swiftness in battle is much better than average, maybe you can just run if things get bloody."

Alfred stood also, seemingly ready to return to the village with Ivar. "I do not fear death either, Ivar."

"Ah, yes. You fear a death that shames your God. You fear sin and Satan and heathens tainting your soul," said Ivar cruelly.

Alfred shook his head morosely. "I fear the death of my loved ones Ivar, the death of my friends." The shorter man stepped closer, hand lifting to rest on Ivar's bicep. "Your intellect is unreachable Ivar The Boneless. I believe in your ability to win, but I also fear your mortality."

Ivar again went blank. Alfred had a way of stealing his emotions, with words and looks and touches. The Christian was almost too sickeningly good to be around, sucking away the solace of hatred that Ivar hoarded inside himself.

"Worry about yourself, little Christian," Ivar finally said, removing the other's hand from his own person. He placed the slender hand on Alfred's bare chest, between the edges of his tunic. "Starting with this. Cover yourself, do you Christians have no shame?"

Alfred simply laughed loudly. "I have as much shame as I can bare. I'm afraid modesty is too far out of my reach now."

Ivar let go of the captive hand and made to move. As he did, three rough fingertips slid down the pale chest slowly, from heart to navel and even further, grabbing Alfred's trousers and tugging gently. A shiver visibly brushed over the pale skin, and Ivar again felt the beast within him stir.

"Perhaps modesty could protect you from the pagans," he said, lying. Letting go, he began to walk, leaving Alfred wanton and alone. Ivar knew the little Christian would not yet be coming with him.

Alfred's voice carried on the breeze with Ivar. And it said-

"Nothing could protect me from you."