Threads of Time

16. Destiny's POV: The Northern Lights

It's the final leg of the journey back to Rune's farm. We'll reach there by tomorrow's dinner time. The sun is barely starting to set and my body aches from hours of horseback riding. When I return home, I'll make sure to appreciate my car more. If I ever make it back home.

Freygerd's words from that morning keep echoing in my mind, as if they hold some hidden meaning. "When are you from?" she asked, not "where." How did she know? How could she tell? Her surprise at my answer, 2024, was evident. And then she urged me to be truthful with Rune. I tried to ask her if there was a way for me to go back, but she only smiled and promised to discuss it later. Next time...

Rune's been restless during most of the ride, his ramblings drifting in and out. Ever since our almost-kiss, he's acted differently around me. More awkward. Maybe he thinks I rejected him when I turned away, but that's far from the truth. I've never felt this way about anyone before, especially not someone from a different century. If Rune belonged to my time, I wouldn't have hesitated to kiss him. The fact that someone as amazing as him would desire me fills my heart with butterflies, but it doesn't necessarily mean he feels the same way. It's evident that he's had his fair share of lovers in the past, while I've had none. Nevertheless, if I were to lose my virginity, I couldn't imagine a better person to share that moment with. Or a more unique experience...

"This spot is perfect," Rune exclaims, turning into a wide expanse of grass, protected by towering rocks on the mountainside and leaping off Vidar. Luckily, the overhanging ledge has shielded this area from the snow.

"I love it here. It feels much cozier than the past two nights," I remark, reaching for his canteen once again and taking a generous sip of the sweet wine from Freygerd. I don't mind being a little tipsy, as long as I'm warm and my nerves are at ease. In fact, I feel wonderful. Rinsley barks and leaps out of my bag, excitedly exploring the surroundings of our campsite. What am I going to do with him if I ever make it back home? After the grueling pain and bloodshed it took to get here, I doubt animals can safely journey alongside us.

"If it's not warm enough, you can always snuggle up in my cot," Rune teases, winking at me as he grabs my waist and helps me down to the ground. I giggle and stumble playfully.

He attempts to snatch the canteen from my hand, but I swiftly move it out of his reach and dart away, laughing and stumbling. He chases after me through the trees and bushes, weaving around our camp until he finally captures me, his toned tan arm encircling my waist and his other hand firmly grasping my wrist that holds the canteen. His face is mere inches away from mine, and I can detect the scent of wine on his breath as he smiles down at me. I want to kiss him passionately, to feel his lips against mine and his strong hands exploring every inch of my body. The desire in his eyes suggests he shares the same longing, yet he makes no move to initiate it. So, I simply hand him the horned flask and say, "I'll help gather some firewood."

He releases me, and for a brief moment, I swear I catch a hint of disappointment crossing his face. But before I can dwell on it, we both set about gathering wood and stones to build a fire. In less than an hour, we find ourselves sitting side by side against the rocky mountain, basking in the warmth of the crackling flames and our cots spread out for the night. The intoxicating combination of wine, cheese, and apples keeps us in a delightful haze as we continue to indulge.

"England was quite something. I raided there once when I was eighteen, a couple of years before Ubbe and Harold passed," he shares, referring to his father and older brother. "They were by my side, of course. It was my first and only raid. That's where I acquired this." He lifts his shirt, revealing not only his chiseled muscles and abs but also a long, deep scar etched across his chest, stretching from one armpit to the other. It's mostly concealed beneath his intricate black tattoos, adorned with runes and symbols unfamiliar to me.

"What happened?" I ask breathlessly, unable to resist the urge to trace my fingers gently along the scar.

"I got too arrogant," he replies, his jaw tightening and his gaze distant, causing me to immediately withdraw my hand from his chest. "I was engaged in a fight, winning with ease, and I was enjoying it a bit too much. I prolonged the battle, savoring the moment. But the damn English bastard managed to slice me across the chest with his sharp sword. Harold swiftly killed him, but I returned home on the brink of death. Vigdis insisted that I refrain from raiding for a while after that. That's why I wasn't there when they passed."

I can sense the sorrow etched on his face, so I place my hand on his forearm and give it a gentle squeeze, meeting his brown eyes with empathy. "You can't blame yourself. Who knows, you might have died alongside them," I offer, trying to console him.

"I... I don't want to dwell on it anymore," he finally admits, his voice tinged with sadness. We both decide to let the conversation fade away, allowing silence to envelop us. The sounds of nature surround us as Rinsley curls up next to me, soon drifting off to sleep.

Unexpectedly, he rises to his feet and extends his hand towards me, which I hesitantly accept. "What are you doing?" I ask, curiosity lacing my words as we begin ascending the side of the mountain.

"You need to see the wonder of the stars from up here," he explains, his hand firmly clasping mine throughout our climb. We reach the summit, and he gazes up at the sky. My eyes follow suit, and I'm astounded by the sight before me. Thousands of stars illuminate the heavens, accompanied by mesmerizing ribbons of purple, green, and grey lights dancing around the full moon. The Northern Lights.

"This is incredible! I've always wanted to see the Northern Lights!" I exclaim, my gaze fixed on the celestial spectacle. I've never witnessed such a multitude of stars, nor have I ever beheld the awe-inspiring beauty of the Northern Lights. The sky is remarkably clear, devoid of any hint of snow.

"The what?" he asks, his confusion evident. "We refer to it as the Bifrost Bridge. It's the bridge connecting Åsgard and Midgard, the realm of the gods and the land of men."

"I've never heard that before, but I like it," I respond with a smile, the lights reflecting off his skin, adding a touch of ethereal allure. Fuck. He has to be the most attractive person I have ever seen.

He takes a deliberate step closer to me, his grip on my hand unwavering, as he inhales deeply. "You are absolutely breathtaking. Even the stars themselves pale in comparison," he murmurs, his voice a velvety blend of depth and softness. Intensity radiates from his eyes as he gazes down at me, our faces mere inches apart.

"But these stars have to be the most beautiful I've ever seen," I argue, not knowing what else to say as I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment. No one has ever spoken to me with such tenderness, nor looked at me with such captivating desire.

"Now you understand how I feel," he whispers, his voice barely audible. Moving closer, he waits, anticipation shimmering in the air, as if seeking permission. This time, I don't turn away. I hold his gaze, my breath hitching, as he tentatively draws me nearer, his free hand finding its place on the small of my back. Closing my eyes, I brace myself, and within the span of a heartbeat, his lips meet mine.

The kiss is more passionate, more fervent than I had ever imagined. Our lips press against each other with an eager hunger, and my arms instinctively wrap around his neck. The hand that was once holding mine cups my face, while his other hand pulls me closer, pressing me firmly against his body. Standing on my tiptoes to reach him, he bends down due to his towering height. In a matter of moments, both of his arms encircle my waist, lifting me effortlessly as my feet dangle above the ground. I am fully pressed against him, acutely aware of the hardness that presses against me—his undeniable desire. And holy shit it feels huge, even through his pants.

Feeling his tongue gently graze my lips, seeking entrance, I part my mouth, allowing our tongues to intertwine in a passionate dance. Every fiber of my being ignites with an insatiable fire and craving for him. My head spins, not from the wine, but from the intoxicating way Rune makes me feel. I never want to lose this moment.

Only briefly breaking the kiss, he shifts me into a cradling position in his arms, carrying me back down the hill. Each step is punctuated by stolen kisses, our lips reuniting with a fervor that speaks volumes of our shared desire.

"Fuck. You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he confesses, his words tinged with a mixture of awe and longing, as we find ourselves entwined in his cot. Throughout the night, his tongue explores the depths of my mouth, intertwining with mine, until our bodies succumb to the embrace of sleep, finding solace in each other's arms.