Chapter 3
Somehow, his own snores woke Kol up. He sat up straight hastily, a hand on his pounding heart. The last traces of his dream flew away, forever out of his reach. Only the feeling of having run faster than he had ever did and being more thirsty than he had ever been remained.
It wasn't the first time he had this particular dream. Ever since he had done magic for the very first time, he had this dream at least once a week. Sometimes more, but never less. He could never remember the exact details though. They were always eluding him, blending together in a swirl of vague feelings and blurred images. And yet, the race and the thirst were deeply rooted inside his mind. His body, even. Despite being awake, he could still feel the dryness, the ache in his throat, the attempt to drink his own saliva to find some relief, and the desire, the true desire, to drink, drink, and drink until he was full.
The thick bearskin cover which had protected him from the fresh night air fell on his thighs and he shivered despite the fire at the center of the room. Henrik, who until now had been sleeping huddled against him, wrapped his own cover tighter around himself and tried to snuggle against Kol a little more. His nose crinkled when he didn't find his usual source of heat. Fondly, Kol pushed a lock of hair behind his little bother's ear.
His older siblings were still sleeping and Rebekah was curled up on Elijah and Nik, snoring loudly and drooling. Making sure he didn't disturb their sleep, Kol pushed the bearskin off, stood up and spread it on his brothers and sister. A soft smile curled the corner of his lips up as he heard Henrik' sigh of relief.
He walked towards the fire. A large basin of tepid water was standing next to it. With his hands cupped, he collected some water and splashed it on his face. Feeling more alive than a moment before, he swallowed a mouthful and then washed his hands and forearms. Once done, he put his outer clothes on and left the house.
Cold air hit him hard in the face. Without moving, he let his magic embrace him in a warm cocoon and relaxed. It was already late at night. Though there were still some stars decorating the dark canvas between the Earth and one of the so-called gods' realms, Asgard, there were hints of orange on the horizon. Slaves were already working, handling the dirty work for their master.
Close to a fire, his parents were talking in a low voice while Sigr was dressing his mother's hair. Mikael had come back from his raid the day before with quite a lot of loot. Actually, Kol could hear the sniffles and terrified whimpers of the new slaves in the quiet of the night. New people with brown skin, dark hair and more generally an exotic appearance were bustling about the village, head down and a metal collar around the neck.
Victory over a savage tribe had his father in a good mood. For once, Nik only had to suffer barbs from the man. Nevertheless, Kol knew it was only a brief phase and his older brother would sooner than later have to bear new blows. Mikael could never stop hitting Nik for too long.
Just the thought of his brother's cries of pain left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.
His parents looked at him. As per usual, Mikael's face was impassive, impossible to decipher. His eyes seemed to sound him out and Kol couldn't help but shudder.
He hated their father.
Esther raised an eyebrow, "Kol? Already up?"
"Indeed Mother. Thought I would already start doing my chores for the day."
He grabbed the handle of an axe leaning against the wall of their home and began walking towards the tree line at the edge of the village.
His mother stopped him though, "Have you made any progress with your project, Kol?"
He knit his brow and turned around to face his parents.
"A project, son?" Mikael mocked before Kol could say anything, "And what are you trying to do?"
Tyring to do. No doing. No. The man didn't know a thing about his desire to make a golden rose for Rebekah and yet he already supposed Kol could only try. Not succeed. Sure, Kol still had a long ways to go before succeeding. He had yet to have a viable lead, though it wasn't for lack of trying. He just lacked time.
Still, Mikael thought he would end up failing.
Kol really, really, hated it. Just like he hated everything related to his father. Even though he would never dare to admit it aloud.
"Just a spell I'm trying to do," he replied, his teeth nearly grinding.
Irritation appeared on his father's face, breaking his emotionless appearance.
"Son, magic is women's work," Mikael said sharply, "It's time for you to grow up. Gods knew there are already enough rumors about how much time you spend on your back with legs spread apart!'
His mother gasped, "Mikael!"
Kol ignored her, just like he didn't pay any attention to his father's words. He already knew what was said about him in the village, thanks to Rebekah. His sister was always too happy to repeat him everything she heard. And frankly, he didn't care.
He rolled his eyes insolently, not even trying to hide from his parents. Nora's improper comportment must be rubbing off on him.
His grip on the axe handle tightened. He turned his back on them and walked away. And once again, his mother's voice stopped him, "Kol, you aim to change something in gold. A spell might not be what you need. A ritual and a golden item to be used as a conduit might be the answer you seek."
The idea wasn't bad, Kol decided. He would just have liked it better if it had come from him, not from his mother.
Oh well, he still had much to learn.
And to do. Wood wasn't going to cut itself alone. Besides, he intended to profit from his chores in the forest to go see Nora. Just to be sure she hadn't poisoned herself. Yet.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" he teased when he saw Nora on her hands and knees, trying to rekindle the fire by blowing on the ashes. Her long red hair was tangled, a sign she had just woken up. Her head and arms were sticking out of an animal hide in which she had clumsily cut three holes.
The woman jumped to her feet, panicked, and frantically scanned the area. Her face split into a smile when her eyes fell on him.
"Kol," she welcomed him, "Good morning hon!"
He grinned, happy to see they had made some progress in their attempt to learn the language of the other. Most of her language was still a mystery to him, and vice versa, but he could now recognize some words. Such as hon, which she often said to him. Or damn it, when something annoyed her. Although, given her propensity to be especially improper, he wasn't sure he wanted to know the meaning of damn it.
"Good morning Nora," he greeted her back.
He approached the fire, took several branches he had brought there the day before and put them on the fire. He then put his hand over it and concentrated. Soon, flames sprang under his palm and licked the wood.
He tensed as Nora sat behind him and put her chin on his shoulder.
Even though he was getting used to her shameless actions, it didn't mean he felt comfortable. Far from it. He opened the mouth to ask her to step backwards, something he knew she could understand.
"Woah," she whispered before he could speak, "So xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx"
He turned his head toward her and stared at her profile. Her eyes wide open and flames being reflected in them, she was gazing at the fire dreamily.
He blinked and could only stare at her next actions, mystified. Without changing her position, she tended her hand over the fire. Flames wrapped around her fingers and danced on her skin. She closed her fist, turned it over, palm facing the sky. Her fingers unfolded and the flames that once were intangible were now shaped as a young woman dressed in weird tight-fitting garment. It twirled and a long elegant dress appeared.
A new figure, male, arose from the fire. It bent its head before the female dancer and held out a hand. The female took it and a beautiful, graceful dance began. They turned, twirled, whirled. They blended into each other and became a fire vortex.
Kol was fascinated by the scene going on in front of his eyes. It was magnificent. Magical, even. Beauty in its purest form.
"How…?" he asked quietly, not daring to truly break the silence.
She shrugged and smiled. She didn't really know and it made sense, he guessed, as she hadn't been able to rekindle the fire.
Once the flames left her hand and went back to licking the wood, she abandoned his shoulder and sat by his side. Her arms and hands disappeared inside the cover she wore and she brought a few pieces of dried meat out. Without saying anything, she held out one to him and he took it. Ruth wouldn't finish making the morning meal before at least an hour.
He was chewing on his meat when Nora sighed loudly.
"God," she said with her nose srunched up, "I want real food!"
"Real food?" he inquired, smirking.
She truly came from an extremely rich family.
"Yes! Real food! Not berries and, " she showed her piece of meat, "this."
"It's squirrel."
She nodded and repeated after him, "squi-rrel."
"And what is 'real food'?" he asked without losing his smirk.
He shouldn't have asked, on second thought. The question had barely left his lips that Nora was vomiting a torrent of incomprehensible words. Food was apparently a subject she liked. Loved. A lot.
Seeing his confusion, she put her hand in the fire. It took different shapes, looking like what he guessed were dishes. And he recognize… nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Truly. Nothing.
Nora's eyes became watery and despair took place on her face in front of the image of some weird horn from which rectangular bars came out.
"And… What is this?" he asked, chuckling.
"French fries," she replied miserably, "I want fries!"
"Is it that good?"
"God yes! You eat this one day!"
He tilted his head, "you mean you'll make me this one day?"
"Make you?" she murmured uncertainly, more for her than him, "Right, make you. I can try?"
The way she spoke was so hesitant that he couldn't help snorting. Right. She making dinner. He wouldn't be surprised if she had once burned water.
They continued talking the best they could and, before he realized, he had his hands in her hair, combing out the tangles and braiding the long strands of hair. The red curls were soft under his fingers and cascaded to her lower back like a waterfall. For once, he wasn't the only one uncomfortable. She was touching nervously her neckline and there were hints of red on the top of her shoulder blade.
Still, as soft as her hair was, it was also extremely tangled and he had to start again a few times to untangle some knots.
Once he had - at last - finished, Nora turned around quickly, her new braid almost hitting him. She kissed his cheeks and he was left spluttering and blushing.
"Thank you!" she said, beaming.
She stood up, twirled, and he watched, fondly, as the animal hide ridiculously swirled with her.
She was growing on him. A bit like a furuncle.
End of chapter 3 :) Not much going on, just Kol and Nora teaching each other their language, and some Kol's feeling about his family.
Historical fact (as far as my researches taught me, so if I'm wrong, Don't hesitate to tell me): About Mikael's remark to Kol, homosexuality wasn't actually seen that badly… FOR the "active" man. Sexual relations in the viking period weren't much about man and woman, but more about being the "active one", vs the "passive one". Men were meant to be warriors and "active", while women were thought as "passive". As such, the passive one in a homosexual relations was seen as shameful, sullied, etc. There is even a story dating from back then where a captive man is raped by several men, and only him is seen as being diminished and ashamed. All the same, magic was considered to be a women's work, and as women were passive… not something for men. So, I hoped it makes more sense about Mikael's remark if it wasn't before :)