Refuge

The throne room was smaller than she’d expected for such a grand kingdom. The throne itself was simple, yet intricate, and Idunn found herself staring at it, and not the King who sat upon it. The Elders of their tribes surrounded in a U shaped semi-circle of chairs, and her uncle had his own seat, though his looked temporary and did not match the décor of the rest of the room. Idunn thought that was considerate.

The King stood as their oddly assembled party entered; a technological genius of a Princess, a lost warrior without a war, a newly healed tribe leader, and the former Valkyrie they’d picked up along the way, flirting with a Dora guard at the door. “Lord M’Baku. How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thanks to the help of your know-it-all sister.” Half of M’Baku’s mouth quirked up, though he looked like he hated to admit it.

“And how are you feeling, Captain Hjördísdottir?” Astonishingly, King T’Challa turned his attention to the clearly out of place Asgardian.

She fidgeted under his attention, already polarized by the simple black trousers and shirt she wore; everyone else was dressed in finery or armor. She felt naked and bare without hers. The reminder of her old title of Captain had thrown her off kilter. She’d thought that title fell with the rest of her home.

Idunn was more astonished that he knew her surname; but then, Heimdall must have informed him and the rest of the council while they sat discussing her crimes. Her fate.

This was her trial.

It sent a shiver down her spine to know that these people likely held her immediate future in her hands— at least, if she wanted any chance of staying with what was left of the people she cared about.

“I— f-fine, King T’Challa, thank you.” She lowered her eyes. Idunn was not used to having to submit her own strong will, to bend to the wishes of others, especially Midgardians. She supposed she should if she wanted to stay.

He nodded, with no show of how he could be feeling on his face. “Tell us what happened.” He commanded, sitting again.

Idunn swallowed hard, her eyes darting over to meet her uncle’s. He gave a short nod.

She took a deep breath and recounted the story from the beginning, in more detail than she’d given the General, who was not currently present. The room was completely silent as she spoke; you could hear the smallest of sparks pop in the quiet that ensued. The eyes trained to her every move made her nervous.

The second she’d finished, the silence shattered. The Elders murmured amongst themselves until the King held up a hand. “Silence.” There was a beat of nothingness. “Lord M’Baku, was anything she said untrue?”

“No.” M’Baku was not known for his brevity, but he saw no reason to continue this conversation, the charade to pin this on Idunn when she’d done nothing wrong, simply to quell the bloodthirsty rumors that swirled around Wakanda.

“Very well. If there are no other comments—”

“I have a question.” The Queen Mother, sitting silent, still, and sneering in her seat, spoke at last. “Why did Lord M’Baku take you to the mountainside to begin with?”

Idunn felt herself flush beneath dark skin. “I do not know, Queen Mother; we were attacked before he could explain.”

The Queen Mother’s gaze fell on the mountainous man. He simply shrugged, unbothered. “I wished to show her the fireflies. They do not come so far up the mountain to Jabari, where it is too cold.”

Idunn let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Their unclear relationship did not need to be broadcasted to these strangers.

A small noise of confusion came from behind them, and they turned to see the Princess fiddling with the beads at her wrist. “Brother.” The Princess looked up, eyes wide. “Sargent Barnes wishes to join us.”

Sargent Barnes? Idunn wracked her brain for a face to put to the name, but nothing appeared until he did.

The man with the metal arm.

The silver glinting through the trees.

“You.” Idunn blinked. 

His accent was unlike the others, the soft, new American lilt that contrasted so sharply with the Wakandans around him. “Captain Hjördísdottir.” He nodded to her before acknowledging the royalty in the throne room. She wasn’t sure if he was crazy, disrespectful and disregarding of the government of the country he currently resided in, or if he was simply ignorant. Maybe he just felt sorry for her. Or perhaps she was overthinking again.

 “Sargent Barnes, could you please tell us why you’ve decided to join this formal audience?” The King asked, raising an eyebrow at the pale man sticking out like a sword that had not been put away.

“I was there. I saw what happened, all of it. And I can give my own account.” Sergeant Barnes replied in a steady, unwavering voice, staring the King directly in the eye.

“You were there?” Idunn demanded. “That was what I saw through the trees, was it not? Your arm? The silver?”

“Yes.” His tone remained infuriatingly calm.

“You distracted me! You’re the reason W’Kabi took us by surprise.” Idunn huffed, her palms itching for Halvor once more. She stopped the thought in its tracks and shook her head. What was wrong with her? She could not simply run him through, much less before the monarch of the country she took refuge in. More so, he was trying to help; if he had truly seen everything, they had another person to back up her version of events and what could not be verified by M’Baku. The most important thing here was his word. She had to get her temper under control; it flared up and out with the slightest provacation. Idunn forced herself to breathe deeply and listen, the heat in her chest ebbing bit by bit.

And his word, he gave truthfully. “After Lord M’Baku fell, W’Kabi attempted to finish him off so that he could move on to the fight with Captain Hjördísdottir. She finished him off before he could, and I’m glad she did. How cowardly and dishonorable to kill an already beaten and poisoned foe.” He said the last of this in another tongue that Idunn and Heimdall understood immediately. Russian.

King T’Challa nodded as well. “I see. Is there anything else?”

“If my opinion is worth anything here—” and here an elder dressed in green, plates on his lips, scoffed in derision at Barnes’ words. Idunn raised an eyebrow. Was his opinion not worth anything? She had no idea of the Sargent’s place, or even why he’d been near them on the mountainside in the first place. “If it is, then I believe that Captain Hjördísdottir did nothing wrong. I don’t believe she should be punished, and if she must, please do not take it out on the rest of her people for her own mistake.”

“Thank you for your input, Sergeant Barnes.” Their King spoke. The council looked unhappy. The guards looked angry. The Princess looked worried. And M’Baku… no, she couldn’t even turn to see his face now. Couldn’t bring herself to gaze upon the hope that would crumple the second the King issued his decree for her to leave his country.

“My decision is final. While I regret that it was not Wakanda that brought W’Kabi to justice, we cannot deny the fact that it has happened. I have determined that Idunn was acting only in self-defense. The Asgardians will stay until they have found a permanent home.”

A ripple of shock went through the room. “Kumkani wam, you cannot be serious!” Exclaimed an elder draped in red and gold, her hair coated in vibrant clay. “Throw this alien scum and the rest of her friends out of Wakanda!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Idunn saw her uncle close his eyes briefly in annoyance, then reopen them. He looked as if he were going to speak up, but the Queen Mother got there before he did. “My son has stated that his decision is final.”

“The Mining tribe will host them no longer.” She snapped. “They may be welcome in Wakanda, but they are no longer welcome with us.”

“Same for the River tribe.” Spat the elder with the lip plate.

“They are welcome in the Border tribe.” Their blanket draped elder declared. “W’Kabi’s traitorous behavior has stained us with shame. We are glad that he has been brought to justice, no matter who has done it.”

“I cannot say that the Merchant tribe has no quarrel with the Asgardians.” Their elder spoke. “We believe they may be safer elsewhere.”

Idunn stiffened at the threat of violence against her people, hands instinctively dropping to a familiar, but empty, spot at her waist.

To his credit, M’Baku simply shrugged and grinned at the King. “Do I truly need to state my stance?” He looked around the room, locking eyes with each of the Elders who had declared themselves and their tribes separate. “Any of the refugees you cast out are welcome with the Jabari in Gorilla City. I’m sure they will enjoy themselves.”

Idunn glanced up at him, a lump rising in her throat. She owed this mountainous man more than she could ever repay him.

“Then it is settled. I will not force any tribe to house Asgardian refugees.” King T’Challa rose and walked swiftly toward M’Baku with all the grace of his Panther title. They gripped at each other’s forearms and seemed to exchange nonverbal words with a long look.

“Thank you, my brother.” The King told him. Idunn got the feeling she was missing a lot. What hadn’t he told her about his relationship with these royals?

Probably about as much as she hadn’t told him about their lifespans, or the other things she was ashamed of.

♤♤♤

Idunn didn’t feel the full rage of Wakanda until she stepped outside their palace, and now she understood why she’d been shut in. In complete contrast to the curious gawking, whispers, and avoid eye contract of the past few days, walking through the streets now garnered stares filled with anger and disgust, furious hisses whispered among citizens, even a few people bold enough to shout their unhappiness with these Asgardians in particular in disgusting slurs. They stopped only short of throwing rotten fruit, and that might have been more from their guard around them than anything else.

The Dora guards had abandoned them as they left the palace. Now Jabari flanked the small group, causing them to stick out even more through the crowd, surrounded by wood and fur and grass skirts. Idunn felt small, not the easiest feat for the muscular, tall woman. She walked between M’Baku on her left, Heimdall to her right, and Brunnhilde on her heels. The Princess had bid her farewell and promises of another tour before retiring to her lab once more. The Dora had returned Halvor, however reluctantly, and Heimdall’s Bifrost sword that she didn’t even know they’d taken. She was furious when she found out but contained it well. Though she hadn’t made it, that sword remained one of her favorite pieces of metalwork, and the forger who’d created it had her utmost respect.

At least she didn’t need to hike the mountain this time. Their vehicle wasn’t as technologically advanced as the rest of the Wakandans (“The Jabari are a traditional bunch,” she recalled M’Baku telling her. “We don’t need the new technology.”) but it beat walking.

Though it wasn’t like anyone had forced her to walk the first time.

The citizens were what worried her. While the King had assured her that short of a civil war, the Asgardians would say until further notice, Idunn worried. She fretted, though she hated to admit it. Causing a civil war within the country she took shelter in would be… bad, to say the least.

The ride up the mountain was silent and tense. No one spoke, each in their own world of worries.

Hilde had elected to stay with the Border tribe. “The mountains are too… crowded, right now.” She’d said, a bit shiftily, and refused to elaborate further. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

“That’s… ominous.” Heimdall had commented. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“Can’t be around too many Asgardians.” Was all she’d say.

“Good luck, then, Valkyrie.” He’d told her, and a smaller part of Idunn’s mind realized that she was likely the only living person to know Brunnhilde by her given name.

It made her feel odd. Important, but odd; like one of the strange Midgardian bumblebees M’Baku had shown her on their first walk up the mountainside, sweet and docile, unlike the vicious humle of Asgard who would sooner sting you than look at you. They toddled around clumsily in the vibrant wildflowers, and he’d urged her to touch one.

“Just put your finger out and let him climb on,” M’Baku had insisted, guiding her hand toward the violently violet petals, where a small fuzzy creature bumped around.

She’d drawn back, two thrills of different fears running down her spine; his touch, the sting. “Aren’t they… angry?”

“They’re as gentle as you or I.”

Idunn considered that. As gentle as the tall, solidly build man before her, leaning on his wooden staff, a colossal weapon, with all the grace and ease of a gorilla himself? Or as gentle as the war hardened captain, muscles just as solid beneath hand crafted armor?

Yet again, foolish, unearned trust forged her response. “Fine,” she declared, sticking her hand back out, quick and rash before instinct could kick in once more.

He held her wrist. “Easy,” he warned, his touch as gentle as he promised the pollen coated insect was. The bumblebee, seemingly done with his job, clamored on. She stared in fascination.

“They make the best honey you’ve ever tasted.” He promised. He had not yet let go of her hand. “And they’re quite essential for any thriving garden.”

“You garden?” Her finger twitched, almost experimentally. The bee hardly moved.

“It relaxes me.” The tone of his voice held no room for further comment, so she dropped it. Apparently, the bumblebee was done hearing it too, and slowly unfolded delicate wings to take off. Idunn’s eyes tracked it as far as the next flower, but the air was growing heavy with them in the summer heat. She couldn’t differentiate her bee from the rest within the minute.

“Strange little things.” Idunn commented.

“And important.” M’Baku’s voice held no offence taken on her stance to the creatures, though.

“They can be both,” she suggested, heading back for the path. She glanced over her shoulder. “You seem to be.”

“We’ve arrived.” His voice now startled her out of the memory. Idunn swallowed hard and looked up, blinking.

“Sorry,” She apologized, climbing from her seat. He took her hand again as they exited, natural as breathing. Idunn noticed her uncle’s eyes on them, but he made no comment as they headed to the throne room.

Time seemed to pass very quickly after that. She remembered M’Baku’s decree to his people. She remembered the ripples of emotion that fluttered across each face. She remembered that she’d dropped his hand and abashedly stepped aside. She remembered thinking that, though he treated her like one, she was not his Queen.

But she remembered this all in flashes and pieces. The next thing she knew, she was nestled between the sheets of the guest bed she’d stayed in before, sunlight bright on her night dark skin. Idunn groaned, rolling over, and pulled blankets over her head. Maybe she wouldn’t have to get up. Maybe everyone would just conveniently forget that she was there, and no one would come to wake her for food.

She wasn’t sure she could share another meal with him, look him in the eye, and go on with both of them knowing how the other felt.

She wasn’t sure she could face him at all.

She hated this. Being trapped, living at someone else’s whim, not being in charge of how she could live her own life, even temporarily, left her feeling small. Stupid. Dependent.

And if there was anything Idunn was not, it was used to depending on another person for a single thing.

She’d worked years of her life away in those forges, and that was how she had liked to live. Playing with fire, all on her own. Hammering away, infusing pieces of herself into every sword, spear, shield, and spiked gauntlet. After she specialized into smith work, she’d found her purpose, but could rarely be found unless you knew where to look. Kari always had; it was something akin to instinctual when he’d pop in on his first try every time, no matter where she was in the forge: down by the magma tunnels, on her bench, even taking lunch out to her spots along the mountainside. More often than not, he’d bring food along for her anyway. She forgot to eat. He never stopped baking, experimenting, trying new things and eagerly testing them out on her and her variable taste buds.

His favorite phrase had been “You will never guess where in the Nine Realms I found this recipe!”

It was usually Midgard. It became her default answer after a decade.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like food. But it was so much less interesting than dunking superheated metal into oil and absorbing the flame into the uru, wrapping handles in fine strips of leather, or grinding the edge of a blade razor sharp. She already knew she could hold her own in the kitchen. It held no challenge.

It hit her like a mace over the head.

She sat up sharply and glanced at the time displayed by her bedside. Still early enough that she could do this.

She could cook for him.

♤♤♤

That morning, M’Baku woke to the scent of food cooking for the first time in years. That had not happened since his mother passed away. He sat up, pushing aside white fur blankets. “Idunn?” He called.

“In the kitchen!” came her wind chime reply.

So it was her.

Interesting.

M’Baku wasn’t sure exactly what to think of Idunn, at least, not without fear of the ridiculous swirl of emotions that clouded his mind whenever he did think of her; her warm golden brown eyes and the fire that burned within them whenever she spoke. How her dreadlocks fell over her eyes and she’d brush them back in annoyance. How her dark skin glowed even early in the morning, waking her up for the Princess’s ridiculous tour requests.

It glowed now, too, when she turned to greet him as he walked in. The smell was something familiar. How had she known his favorite breakfast as a child? The same thing his Mama used to make on special mornings. He leaned against the doorway, trying not to let himself seem as effected as he really was.

Idunn was sliding the potatoes onto plates as he entered the room. “Good morning,” she told him, only a slight quiver in the smile she gave him. Nervous. “Did you sleep well?”

“You cooked for us?” He replied with another question.

Her ears warmed, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to meet his gaze at that. “You’ve shown me a lot of hospitality. It would be bad manners not to reciprocate.” Now the quiver made its way into her throat. “I hope I am not overstepping my bounds. I found the recipe in a book above the cabinet.”

“I haven’t had this in a long time.” He commented, picking up the plates and leading them to the table to sit. M’Baku set the plates down and pulled out Idunn’s chair. She wondered silently if it was out of chivalry or guilt. “It smells delicious.” He added, picking up a fork. “It was the best thing my mother used to make for me.”

“Then I apologize if I did not do it justice.” Idunn murmured, the tips of her ears now aflame. If she disrespected the memory of his mother, this would make this all so much more awkward.

They dug in. It was delicious.

“Are we going to talk about this or not?” Idunn asked. “It seems a bit ridiculous to pretend nothing happened.”

“What happened, then, Idunn?” His gaze was steady and too focused on her.

She bit back shame. “I killed someone.”

“You saved my life.” He shoveled a bite of food into his mouth, his tone so casual, you could think he was talking about the weather.

“I—”

“What more is there to discuss, Idunn?” He swallowed hard before speaking. “Thank you.”

She felt nothing for W’Kabi. She knew nothing of him more than his crimes against this country, and his murderous xenophobia. But she was only sorry for the trouble it had all caused. Not for the life, for the soul she had saved that called so intimately to her own.

Tears filled her eyes and threatened to brim over. Not for the first time, the reality of just how close she had been to losing him hit her. She had been breaths away from his flame extinguishing.

He saw the expression on her face become suddenly vulnerable, and he dropped his fork and moved out of his seat toward her. “Idunn, no,” he whispered, taking her hand and kneeling on the wooden floor beside her. “I’m being serious. Thank you for saving my life.” His words rang with sincerity.

She shivered under his stare, and half shrugged, laughing a bit to try and shake the tears away. “No problem.”

He reached up to tuck an errant, falling, gold wrapped dreadlock behind her ear. On instinct, almost unconsciously, her hand drifted down to cup at his cheek. “How are you feeling? Honestly.”

“My wounds have healed.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Idunn bit her lip. “Did you mean…? When we were in the lab.”

“What?”

“Did you mean it?”

“Every word.”

And suddenly his mouth found hers, his full lips every inch as luscious as she’d dreamt, but, oh, this was ten thousand times more alive than a vision in her head. He tasted of the spices she’d painstakingly measured to the milligram, following handwritten, yellowing instructions. He was gentle, letting her set the pace, but his warm hand crept around the back of her neck and pulled her closer.

Idunn melted into him, seeing stars and galaxies swirling as she closed her eyes. It lasted for the longest moment, a single sustained note of a symphony hanging in the air, before she pulled back.

“Oh…” It was the softest exhale from her lips. The simultaneous smiles that spread across their faces caused them to chuckle at the same time.

♤♤♤

“I want to take you out somewhere.” M’Baku told her, later, when she was curled under his arm on the couch, her head on his chest, being pulled in closer with his arms around her waist. Later, after innumerous kisses, soft caresses, exploring mouths and faces and necks, after hickies and love bites, after fear and vulnerability and whispered declarations of adoration.

“Somewhere?” Her voice was a murmur, a vibration across the onyx skin of his neck. “Some… where?”

“Somewhere out in my tribe. Somewhere you haven’t seen yet.” His thumb stroked soft circles in the skin of her back, her shirt having been shed what felt like hours ago. The skin to skin contact was immeasurably warming to them both.

“You really want to be seen out with me?” She sounded sleepy. Or maybe just tired.

“I want to shout your name from these mountains.” He said simply. “But I understand if you’re not quite ready for that level of exuberance.”

Idunn’s chuckle at that was even more warming than the heat of her body curled against his own, spreading through his chest like hot coals. “No, not quite.” She agreed, tucking a leg over his. Her legs were exquisite, he mused silently.

“But food? We could get something out.” He couldn’t keep the note of hope out of his tone. “And… I would like to show you my nursery.”

“You’re a parent, Great Gorilla?” She teased, the light-hearted lilt to her words combined with her adoption of that title causing his mortal heart to skip a beat. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“To quite a few plants, yes. It’s a greenhouse.” He clarified.

She sighed. “Do we have to? I’m so much more comfortable here.”

He bit his lip, unwilling to leave this shining bubble of a moment yet either. “I’d like to at some point today.” He breathed deep, the scent of her so close causing his head to spin.

“I don’t wanna move.” She whimpered, fingers curling into his soft skin, hard muscles. Having him this close felt like something had clicked, something that had been missing for a very long time. It wasn’t a feeling she could well quantify, or even truly qualify accurately in words. But if the word had to exist, she though he’d said it well already.

Soulmate.

“Idunn.”

“Mmm?”

“Ifemi, you fell asleep.”

Part of her brain that wasn’t quite aware from waking up, the Allspeak still stirring, recognized that he’d called her his love. But the larger part of her recognized the panic in it, and she sat up, but the couch was gone. M’Baku was too.

The stone beneath her was hard and faintly damp, flickers of flames in metal and wire baskets flickered around the enormous cavern. Babies wailed, the sound almost muffled, and she pushed herself to her feet, swaying on the spot, dizzy.

She was back on Asgard.

How?

Asgard had been destroyed.

What?

“She will be here soon.” Heimdall’s voice echoed, seeming to come from every direction at once. “We need to evacuate.”

The panic. The surging of refugees in their own homeland scurrying like rats to grab hastily at their few meager possessions, the stampeding of those who didn’t know better. Her heart beat a wild dance in her chest, her feet frozen to the spot.

“Idunn!” His voice startled her back into the wooden floor she’d collapsed onto, back in M’Baku’s living room, as he knelt over her, the expression on his face letting her know she’d been here all along.

“Sorry,” she whispered, eyes cast down as he helped her back up and sat her on the couch.

“Don’t apologize, just… tell me what’s going on. Are you okay? You were mumbling in your sleep about Asgard and Kari and…” he took a deep breath, sensing that his rambling wasn’t helping. “Are you alright?” He repeated, hovering, unsure.

Idunn’s head swam. She had just been there. And it wasn’t a dream, but it must have started with one.

Her head throbbed, a migraine behind her left eye building in pressure and intensity with every passing second. Her heart still beat an unsteady and awkward rhythm beneath her ribs, and she could almost feel the vise of everything she’d lost wrapped around it. It was amazing, the amount of pain that didn’t show on her face as she forced her lips into a smile. “I guess I just sleepwalk sometimes. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I’m sorry.”

“Idunn.” The sternness in his voice dropped the manic smile from her face. “You looked so… lost.”

She swallowed hard. His stare left no room to squirm. “It was just a nightmare.” She insisted. “It just seemed so real, and I was back on Asgard, and I…”

M’Baku wrapped her in a hug as she trailed off, tight and reassuring. “You’re okay,” he whispered, and for a moment, she simply melted into his touch.

Then he asked “Are you hungry? We could go out and eat now,” and her shoulders tensed automatically. He noticed. “Idunn?”

“I’m just really not ready to be stared at like a pariah, M’Baku.” She hummed, low, against his skin. “Or for you to be looked at the same because you’re seen with me. It’s not a great feeling. I’d rather not have either of us experience it when I could very well just cook for you again and we could spend some time doing… nothing.”

“I understand. But you cannot stay cooped up here forever.” His voice was low and had a hard edge to it that she couldn’t understand.

She pulled herself from his embrace and threw her hand up in the air. “I don’t plan to! But it has been an absolutely mindfuck of the past few days, and I would like just a bit of time where I’m not worried for my family’s survival, or that of what remains of my people, or having a mental breakdown over some ridiculous swords, or where we might find a new place to live since our home was destroyed, or anything else like that, okay?! Can I just have one day of peace? Please?” Idunn took several deep breaths after her rambling ceased, chest heaving in the wake of the pressure that had been released from it. It was like her torso had been wrapped in metal bands and they were being cut and falling away.

“Breakdown over swords? What are you talking about, Idunn?”

Shit.

In an instant, the bands were back. “I just meant—”

“What happened in the Princess’s lab?” He sounded calm. Too calm.

Her hackles raised. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Idunn—”

“Leave me alone!” She burst out, scrambling from the couch and fleeing to her room, shutting and locking the door behind her. M’Baku started for her door, then stopped himself. He’d pushed too far. Now guilt settled heavily on his shoulders, increasing in weight when he heard the muffled sobs and sound of the shower cutting on from behind the door.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, knowing she wouldn’t hear.

She did, only because through the thick wooden walls and the spray of the water from the shower, her hearing was that of an Asgardian, and more than that, her soul attuned to his.

But though she forgave him, Idunn did not come back out.

♤♤♤

At least, she did not emerge until later, when the sun had set below the mountains and was disappearing with brilliant colored plumage under the horizon when you looked down on it from Gorilla City.

He was in his own bedroom when she knocked, and his voice echoed when he asked her to enter. The knob turned easily, and Idunn took in the warm, rich decorations for the first time as she gazed around. There were white furs topping the bed, and everything else she looked upon was like a forest in autumn; draped in rich reds, golds, and browns. A few more of his paintings hung on the walls, sceneries of marketplaces and meadows and fireflies. That last one made her breath catch in her throat, and she looked over to where M’Baku lounged in bed, his back against a broad and ornately carved headboard, a book on his lap, still half open.

“M’Baku, I—”

“If you are here to apologize, do not bother, Idunn.” Her heart sank at his words, until he continued. “I should be the one apologizing. I should not have pushed you so far when it was clear what you wanted and needed. I am sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Though she’d heard his earlier apology in the hall, the sincerity that rang true in his words struck her like an open palmed slap. “I forgive you.” She answered, still hovering in the doorway, unsure if she should step in.

“Come in.” He insisted, a smile lighting his face as he patted the mattress beside him. “You are more than welcome in here.”

She crept forward, a gazelle on legs with the muscles of a cheetah, and eased herself onto the bed next to him, pressing fists into the soft blankets and half crawling until she knelt and faced him eye to eye. “I like your room.”

“Thank you.”

The silence that followed was not unpleasant. It was long, though, and Idunn found herself searching more for answers in his dark and beautiful eyes than she did simply enjoying them. He caught an errant lock of her hair and tucked it into the twisted updo that held the rest back. She smiled, and M’Baku realized this was the most casually he’d seen her dressed since her first night with him; in flannel, she was truly a sight to behold, and he could see why the old Norse had thought them gods. She looked more like a goddess now, though, than she had wielding a flaming sword in full armor.  

Perhaps it was the vulnerability on her face.

Either way, he was struck nearly dumb in her presence. It was an odd feeling. M’Baku was used to being a commanding presence, but he felt like a moon to her burning sun. She was radiant, and warm, and he drew to her like a moth to a candle in the night.

Before he realized what was happening, they were kissing again, and his mind drew blank on all other thoughts. Her lips were petal soft, and he breathed in her rose sweet scent as he drew her closer. Idunn climbed clumsily into his lap, her kisses trailing almost absentmindedly over the shell of his ear, the side of his neck. It was all he could do to hold her steady, and she seemed to relax, if only marginally, in his arms.

It was a slow and quiet little paradise between the two, each unhurried kiss melting into the next. M’Baku wanted to explore her, taste more of her, but his lips found their way back to hers time and time again, inescapable in their honeyed sweetness.

They eventually found themselves lying on their sides, noses nearly close enough to touch, two pairs of helpless eyes with everything laid between them locked on one another.

Their whispers were barely audible over the winds picking up outside, rattling at the windows, the very walls shivering but strong and built for this assault.

“I just…”

“Mmm?”

“There’s been a lot happening.”

“I understand.”

“I didn’t mean to blow up on you like that.”

“It’s alright.”

“It’s not.”

“I pushed you too hard.”

“I—”

“Idunn, it’s okay. Stop… stop apologizing.”

“It feels like everything lately is my fault.”

“Ah, so you caused your home to fall?”

“You know that’s not true.”

“And us being attacked, you planned that?”

“M’Baku—”

“Then everything that you have gone through as of late is not your fault, Idunn.”

“What’s left of my people was nearly ejected from the only refuge we know because I couldn’t control myself enough to incapacitate an attacker rather than kill him.”

“No one blames you for that—”

“I blame myself, M’Baku. I would have never seen you again.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen. It did not happen regardless, so stop worrying about it..”

“This is ridiculous, you realize…?”

“What is?”

“This. We’ve known each other less than… a week. A handful of days.”

“And that Hanuman has shown me my soulmate so soon is a blessing. Why can’t you see it that way?”

“Because if I let myself feel this for you, I won’t survive losing you.”

“You won’t lose me.”

“I will. Eventually.”

“How do you know that?”

“…I lose everyone.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to lose me.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“I can’t.” She whispered brokenly.

“Why not?” A note of frustration crept into his words.

Her throat closed up even as she tried to speak, and she simply shook her head instead, tears brimming in her eyes. M’Baku sighed, and she closed her eyes briefly, expecting biting words, only to feel his lips brush over her forehead.

“Keep your secrets if you’d like, ifemi. It won’t change the way I feel about you.” He murmured.