Note: This is loosely set in my Aching Blood timeline's canon. C:
Corrwain Week 2018
Day 2
Names
Sweat trickled down Odin's brow as he made the finishing touches on the grip of the axe on the worktable. Even a stone's throw away, the heat of the forge was overwhelming. Still, despite the blanketing heat, he enjoyed being on this rotation. Getting to maintain and enhance the army's weapons was great fun, and tinkering with them really got his blood pumping. Maybe that was why his wife always insisted on accompanying him. Corrin had seated herself across the room at a table a fair distance from the fire, pouring over the weekly expenses. They'd both been silent for the past hour, however; Odin took weapon maintenance very seriously, and Corrin had expressed a need for quiet calculating. Despite that, he was happy to have her nearby for shared smiles when they both looked up from their work, flirty winks and blown kisses interspersed throughout.
Wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist, Odin beamed at the completed weapon. "And that should do it!" he announced triumphantly. "Another weapon given the Odin Dark seal of approval!"
Corrin set down her quill, grinning. "Thanks for all your hard work, babe," she said, winking at him.
With a chuckle, Odin stood and stretched his sore limbs, stiff from the long period of sitting. "Your continued encouragement is appreciated as always, my love," he said, crossing the room to her.
"Glad to be of service, cutie," she teased with a broad smile.
Eyes crinkling with affection, Odin planted his hands on her table and bent across it to kiss her. Happily, her hands framed his cheeks and kept him, the two of them trading kiss after kiss that slowly deepened into a full-out snog, tongues caressing languidly. Minutes ticked by in bliss, to the point that Odin considered scooping her up and retiring to a corner of the forge for a proper moment of passion, but a voice in the doorway interrupted their revelry.
"Ugh, guys, seriously, get a room," Laslow said with a tone of disgust, a hand covering his eyes as he shut the door behind him.
Ignoring him, Odin nuzzled Corrin's nose. "Seems to me we're already in a room. Wouldn't you agree, beloved?"
"Absolutely right," Corrin said with a giggle, smooching him again.
"A private one, then!" Laslow retorted, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"It was until you showed up," Odin commented, his fingers gently gripping Corrin's chin, his focus still entirely on her.
Laslow let out an exasperated sigh, throwing his hands up in resignation. "I swear, you two are—wait, Odin, why the hells are you shirtless?!"
He had a point; Odin was, in fact, missing his tunic, attired only in his pants, boots, and a blacksmith apron. The absent tunic hung on a hook on the wall close to the forge fires.
"He got all sweaty sitting near the fire," Corrin explained with a soft grin, petting Odin's cheek. "So I told him he could take it off. It's just practical."
"And I'm sure it's just a coincidence that you're here, watching him all shirtless and sweaty, huh?" Laslow said with a raised eyebrow.
"It'd be a shame to waste such a lovely view," she said, winking at Odin.
"Aw, baaabe, don't make me blush," Odin said, ruffling his hair in embarrassment, grinning from ear to ear.
"But you're so cute when you blush."
"Baaaabe…"
"Dear gods, you two are nauseating," Laslow said, both hands over his face and his head tipped backward. The secondhand embarrassment was borderline unbearable; they weren't known as the most shamelessly affectionate couple in the army for nothing. "Can I just take my axe and get away from all this gross PDA?"
"Yes, please, leave," Corrin said, her eyes still on Odin and twinkling with mischief.
"Ughhh, you're doing this on purpose to embarrass me, aren't you?" Laslow said as Odin shuffled over to the worktable to retrieve the requested weapon.
"That's one reason," she said, propping an elbow on the table and resting her chin on her extended palm. "The other is that I absolutely adore my husband."
"Aww. I love you too, my dragonlily," Odin said with a broad grin, returning with axe in hand.
"Naga, take me now," Laslow said, staring at the ceiling with an vexed sigh.
"One Odin Dark special, as requested, Laslow," he said, offering the weapon to him.
Laslow took the axe, examining it with genuine interest. It was no secret that Odin was probably the best blacksmith in the whole of the army; he was meticulous to a fault when it came to weapon maintenance, and his technique with the forge was borderline flawless. The blade of the axe shimmered in the light, glossy from the fresh oiling, and the leather on the pommel squeaked in his hands. If he didn't know any better, he would swear Odin had handed him a brand new axe, not the same one he'd been using for ages.
"There's only one thing left to call the job complete," Odin said, hands on his hips.
Laslow cringed. Of course, there was one downside to Odin running the forge. "Odin, seriously, you don't need to name it," he said with a sigh.
"What?!" Odin gasped, face falling in shock. "Release a weapon from my care, unbaptized? The very notion is scandalous! How can a weapon properly protect you without a name?!"
"I think I'll manage somehow," Laslow said wearily. "Everyone else is the army seems to."
"Xander and Ryoma's weapons have names," Corrin pointed out, standing to join them. "As does my Yato."
"Yes, exactly!" Odin said, turning his head toward her and then back to Laslow to indicate his point. "And they're blades of infamy, radiating power! It's because my darling wife carries a named weapon that I feel she's truly safe on the battlefield!"
"Fine," Laslow sighed, a hand over his eyes. "But could you at least pick a name that isn't weird?"
"Midnight Cleaver isn't a weird name!" Odin spat, incensed.
"Good gods, Odin," Laslow groaned, hand sliding down his face. "You can't be serious."
"I'm very serious!" he said, indignance thick in his expression.
"I think it's a great name," Corrin said, looping arms with her husband and tucking into his side. "I know you worked very diligently on it today."
"I did," Odin said with a nod, huffing. "I labored not only over the weapon itself but also over the proper title to bestow upon it."
"And I'm sure Laslow appreciates all your thought and effort, don't you, Laslow?"
The leer she shot him pierced right through him, sending a shiver down his body. Curled around Odin's bicep, a deep glower accompanying her frown, one hand over the side pouch where she kept her dragonstone, Corrin radiated threatening energy, to the point that it made Laslow swallow, his throat suddenly dry. Her presence in the forge with her husband made sense now.
"O...Of course, Odin," Laslow said, eyes still locked with Corrin's scowl. "Midnight Cleaver, was it? I'll...take good care of it."
"Excellent!" Odin said, brightening in an instant. "Your dark patronage is much appreciated, my friend!"
"Right…" Laslow said, still eyeing Corrin as he backed up toward the door, his hand groping blindly for the handle.
"Be seeing you, Laslow!" Corrin said, her whole demeanor shifting to a more cheerful note but her eyes still carrying an undertone of intimidation.
"Uh-huh, sure," said Laslow, prying the door open and excusing himself from the building.
"Another successful delivery!" Odin said chipperly. "Everyone seems much more accepting of my eponyms today. It usually doesn't go this well for me." He grinned at his wife. "Maybe it's because my good luck charm is here."
"Maybe everyone's finally understanding your good intentions," Corrin suggested, sliding her hands onto his shoulders and turning him toward her.
"One can only hope, my love," he said, pulling her by the hips into him. "Now...I believe we were interrupted earlier."
"Indeed we were," she said with a giggle, pressing in to capture his lips.
If there was one thing Corrin couldn't stand, it was people not appreciating Odin as much as she did. He was so thoughtful and giving, and if she had her way, she'd make sure the whole world treated him the way he should be, one weapon name at a time.
