Berserkr (boyxboy)

Chapter 7: Lost and Found

Above the trees and encircling a backdrop of fog-tipped mountains, hundreds of crows howled, taunting the scene below with irreverent squawks of freedom. Feathers glistened, heavy with the rain that fell from the heavens with a renewed vengeance – as if Odin himself were crying – while they swirled and dipped, overlooking the scene below with beady, blackened gazes of pity.

One would think that the ravenous flock of fowl would only convene in such excess when staking out the rotting carcasses of their latest prey. But be it that true, perhaps the thick, murky scent of misery that wafted endlessly from the grounds below was just enough to trick even those with the most attuned of senses.

For torment was not nearly strong enough a word to encapsulate the violent state of turmoil that Einar found himself drowning within as he heaved out a rich, chest-deep grunt, palms chafed raw and bloody as he heaved the horse cart yet another foot closer to the refinery.

Tendrils of dirty blonde hair – darkened to a light brown by the unforgiving downpour that accompanied the passing storm – stuck to Einar's face and neck as he pressed onward, numb to the solid sheets of precipitation that fell against his back like tiny shards of ice.

Although the thin soles of the Alpha's cloth boots slipped and sank into the sludge of the earth with each step, and the rickety wheels of the cart struggled to turn properly as they cut through the dense mud, Einar barely felt the added strain. Instead, dim blue eyes only squinted through the impenetrable deluge, pupils focused on nothing and ears deaf to the blunt clash and bang of the picked-over cart of gold as he yielded himself to a much harsher hurricane of introspection.

Only a single day had passed since Einar was bestowed the highest honor of joining bodies with his fated. But even still, every time the mere thought of sweat-slicked limbs, breathy cries, and desperate embraces flickered across his mind, the Alpha found himself doubly overcome with an onslaught of flames that crackled to life within the depths of his gut, filling him with so many emotions that it was quite remarkable that he had yet to pop.

But through it all, there wasn't a single moment in the day that Einar wasn't thinking of him, of what his precious Omega – his Vali – was doing to keep himself company whilst Einar tended to his everlasting duties.

Maybe he was shuffling through Einar's drawings again. If so, did he glance upon them with regards of awe or disdain? So badly, Einar longed to know.

Or maybe, he was busying himself by brushing Frode's mane with those soft, delicate hands that Einar always longed to touch, showering the powerful stallion with all of the adoration of which he'd been deprived for so long.

Was he happy? Thirsty? Hungry?

... Was he thinking of Einar, too?

In a matter of days, Vali had become the sunlight peeking over the horizon at the dawn of an endless winter, the very life that thrummed through Einar's every vein, replenishing him with a warm, fuzzy, and distinctly alien sense of hope that he'd never been brave enough to pursue alone.

But Vali... His sweet, perfect Omega, made him want. Vali made him yearn.

But of course, as inevitably as a whip met flesh, all of those wondrous, vibrant feelings that Vali made bubble up from some long abandoned place deep inside of him were only destined to be tarnished by the sharp talons of reality's truths. And every day, Einar could feel them slice their way down to his very core as he tried his best to come up with any way to resist them.

You see, the previous morning, Master Guiscard had jovially called for an assembly in the village square. Then, only once he'd concluded a thorough whipping of one of his house slaves for an offense that likely only existed in his own mind, did the stout Beta announce the details of their next raid, all the while the bloody, battered woman lay slumped over in the dirt behind him, like an omen of what further bloodshed was undoubtedly to come.