Had a blast writing this one!

Eirik has never been fond of amusement parks. Between the seemingly endless queues, the masses of people in such close quarters to one another, and that nagging voice at the back of his mind that tells him the ride will burst into flames the second it sets off, he has plenty of reasons he can use to convince Mikkel that an amusement park is not the ideal place for a date.

Apparently this one is different.

"It's more like a Renaissance fair," Mikkel explains, "except there are loads of different time periods. Obviously you have to queue for the shows, but since they all start at specific times, it's not that bad."

Eirik decides to give him the benefit of the doubt. Mikkel knows his tastes well enough by now; he wouldn't suggest they go someplace he'd hate.

However, it seems he's underestimated just how complicated it is to plan their day. Mikkel insisted they print the show schedules the day before and map out their itinerary so they won't be stuck with everyone else when the gates open.

"It's really easy to miss the first show if you decide to plan your day as soon as you get there."

He's currently chewing his pencil, eyebrows furrowed, as he takes note of show times and mentally calculates how long it should take them to get from one performance to the next. Many times he crosses something out, muttering under his breath. It's amusing, to see him so serious about this. Eirik doesn't mind only seeing a few shows, but Mikkel's determined he see every last one of them.

"We'll have to skip the Romans, because there's no way we're missing out on the Vikings," his boyfriend finally says. "We might have to run once or twice, but we should be okay... You're fine with us eating in the queue, right? I want us to have the best seats."

Eirik glances at the planning, and suddenly regrets ever agreeing to this. Ten shows in just under nine hours. Most of them miles apart from one another, according to the map. If nothing else, it will be a good workout.

Sure enough, by the time they finally wait for the Vikings to start, Eirik's legs are aching. The late afternoon sun isn't as harsh anymore, dappling the sandy path in a mosaic of shadows and light. A tall wooden gate bars entry to the seating area, and people have gathered around it to form a blob rather than a line.

He takes a shaky breath, hating how close everyone is, dreading the eventual bruises he'll uncover this evening from where someone elbows him or crushes his toes beneath a heavy foot. At least this is the only queue he's found unbearable. The others have all been almost organised.

Mikkel squeezes his hand, tugs slightly at it, leads him away from the mass of bodies to a more open area further back in the queue.

"This better?"

"Thanks," Eirik flashes him a small smile between deep breaths.

Now he doesn't fear being crushed, he eyes his surroundings. Or, more precisely, he watches the people around him. People watching is always a fun pastime in situations like this, and he's happy to learn Mikkel enjoys the activity too, though the comments he makes are less cynical than Eirik's.

A few metres away, a group of small children - members of a catechism group or summer camp - play with plastic swords. Four of them, dressed as knights, are defending what appears to be a cool box from three musketeers. Foam swords clash against plastic rapiers, and Eirik can't help but think that the fight isn't exactly fair. Apparently two other children, from a different group entirely, think the same, as suddenly war cries split the air and the two Vikings join the fray, wielding wooden axes.

"Bet you a euro there'll be tears in five minutes," he murmurs to Mikkel.

"Nah, they'll be fine. Looks like their supervisor's going to tell them to stop."

They both chuckle as a tired-looking young woman interrupts their game and distracts them with a snack of bread and chocolate.

"You know," Mikkel comments, "the artisanal shops in this area sell really cool axes."

Eirik knows exactly where this is heading.

"Do they now?" he looks up at the sky.

"Yeah, they're wicked! Can we get one for the flat?"

Eirik shuts his eyes briefly, picturing the second-hand furniture they've somehow managed to match together, the landscape paintings on the walls, and tries to imagine an axe hanging up somewhere. It doesn't fit. He opens his mouth to refuse, but Mikkel is staring at him with that look on his face, and really, what could be the harm in having such an item on display?

"If you think we need an axe in our living room," he shrugs.

Any further discussion is cut off by the gates swinging open. Suddenly Mikkel is dragging Eirik along, through the crowd, not minding whose feet they accidentally trample as they make a path towards the middle row.

The wooden benches are uncomfortable, and Eirik shifts to find a comfier position while Mikkel talks to him as they wait for the show to start. He tells him the history behind the show, how it's one of the oldest, therefore not quite as exciting as some of the stunts pulled earlier on. He gives Eirik hints where to look, even though he'll nudge him in the right direction during the action sequences, from the tower that towers over a canal made to resemble a river, to the quaint village where the actors are gathering.

The narrator's voice booms over the crowd, reminding everyone to remain seated, and the show starts.

True to Mikkel's words, it isn't as impressive as some of the things he's seen today. There are no complicated acrobatics performed on a galloping horse's back, no breathtaking courting ceremony between flamenco dancers and musketeers riding horses of the purest white. No birds' feathers brush against his hair as they soar over his head, no actor emerges from within the audience to hold them hostage. Instead, there are bellowing flames Eirik feels even from the middle row and ships that rise and sink into the depths of the canal. Historical inaccuracies tarnish the clothing the actors wear, even the depiction of Vikings rubs him the wrong way, but he still finds himself clapping alongside the rest of the audience.

Mikkel spends the last half hour of their time in the park picking out an axe he likes. He settles on a massive thing almost as tall as him that they decide to split the cost for. The Dane carries it with two hands, and Eirik wastes no time forbidding him from ever swinging it, wincing as he avoids whacking the other visitors with great difficulty.

Eirik can barely keep his eyes open now. The second he rests his head against the window, he's fast asleep, lips curling into a smile as he replays the day's events in his mind.

Now that's an amusement park he's happy to visit again.