Only once the Vikings had heaved even the last barrel from the storage area in the guts of their ship, the boat emptied. The woman was the last one who stood at the wooden plank that connected the dock to the dragon ship. She eyed Wooyoung suspiciously from time to time, as if not trusting that he wouldn't run off.

Sǫndúlfr returned to the ship after the rest of the burly Vikings had taken off with their families. Their boisterous voices carried to their huts, where they retreated to the warmth of fireplaces and rested their chilly bones after their long journey. The only two left standing at the shore were a woman and a dog at her side. The grey fur of the animal contrasted and blended into the snowy field at the same time.

When Sǫndúlfr knelt in front of Wooyoung, the historian nervously looked between him and the captain. He was unsure of his fate, unsure how many days they would leave him before they would dawn the horrible fate of being sacrificed to their god on him. And yet, the mysterious stranger who had appeared through the centuries in front of Wooyoung offered an unexpected safety. With both of them defying time, Wooyoung would put all of his trust in this man and his explanation on how they could meet again.

Sǫndúlfr's body language was tense and guarded, but in the privacy of their gaze, his eyes conveyed curiosity. Wooyoung doubted Sǫndúlfr himself would do anything to him. Not when the man stretched out his arms in an offering gesture.

"May I?"

Wooyoung was about to refuse when he remembered the role he played. The sickly, youthful stranger who also had no boots to walk in the snow with.

When Wooyoung got on wobbly knees to lean towards the man, his muscular arms caught Wooyoung before he could fall over. He scooped up the blanket together with the smaller male inside and lingered for a moment until Wooyoung had tucked most of his body away. The icy wind tugged on his curls and had his teeth chatter once more when it cooled his frozen hair in his nape. Some whirling white snowflakes had found their nests in Sǫndúlfr's hair and stood out like stars in the night sky.

Sǫndúlfr carried Wooyoung without trouble. After they had passed the lingering gaze of the captain, Sǫndúlfr slowly descended the unsteady plank. The crunch of the snow under his soft boots reminded Wooyoung once more of how real this was. His mind had detached from his body in his fright after landing in the frosty sea. It wanted to fixate on solving the riddle surrounding Sǫndúlfr, Sandalius, and Suusaandar, but the reality had him fear for his life.

When Wooyoung wrapped his trembling body tighter into his blanket, his teeth still chattered. Sǫndúlfr still took it as his incentive to quicken his brisk pace. Once they had reached the woman waiting for him at the coast, she joined their group. Wooyoung eyed her curiously as she walked alongside Sǫndúlfr. Her long hair was bright and thin like spun gold and cascaded over her green dress. The fur wrapped around her hips and shoulders was well-groomed and shone in different shades of brown. Ferret fur, maybe.

She had a scar on the corner of her lips that contorted her mouth into a constant grimace, but it didn't take from her beauty. Awed, Wooyoung regarded her as she marched alongside Sǫndúlfr through the snow.

"Where did you find the boy?"

Her bright eyes scrutinised Wooyoung. He had huddled tightly against the chest of who he could only assume was her husband. The familiarity he should have with this man's body felt tampered with. As if Sandalius and he were not the same, even if they were.

"Swimming with the fishes. We hauled him on board but he hasn't told us his story so far." With a questioning gaze, Sǫndúlfr looked down at Wooyoung. His sharp cut jaw and cheekbones seemed sharp as a knife from this angle.

Wooyoung cleared his throat. His body already got weary from the damage the cold had done to it.

"I'm from the west. The farm I lived on with my parents burnt down, so I wanted to seek a village to live with. On the way, I got carried away by an avalanche and landed in the ocean," he spun his lie. Sǫndúlfr detected the secret veiled behind it. Soon, he would ask how it could be that Wooyoung had recognised him through the ages.

"Hilda already decided he would become a sacrifice for Odin, but I want to learn more about him first. Can you distract the town chief for me tonight?"

The gaze that passed between the two of them was that of a couple used to cleaning up after each other. The woman smiled. One of her hands came down to pet the wolfhound that jumped along their sides and played with the snow.

"Of course. They will be drunk with celebrations, anyway. Take your time." Her quiet voice carried determination. Wooyoung silently marvelled at her and the heavy axe she wore on her belt. The path up to the hut the two resided in was steep and slippery, but they made it up soon. Murky, the pine forest loomed over them as they stepped into the cosy hut they called their own.

Wooyoung exhaled as soon as he left the biting cold. The skies outside had already darkened and the snow probably wouldn't let up all night. Inside the hut, it was warm. Sǫndúlfr set him down on the soft carpet in front of the open fireplace that had a cauldron with stew cooking above it. While Wooyoung stretched out his hands for the flames with a relieved sigh, Sǫndúlfr got rid of his weapons.

The woman distanced herself to collect some bread and stew in a basket. The dog followed her around most of the time but halted to sniff on Wooyoung's hair once. Deciding the scrawny kid in their midst wasn't worth any further attention, it trotted back off.

When Sǫndúlfr returned, he didn't wear his tunic anymore. He left the wet garment to dry on a wooden rack next to the fireplace. The leather belt that held his fur coat over his shoulders crossed over his sculpted chest. As he hung up Wooyoung's wet clothes next to his, his companion stepped in once more.

"I'll take Bein with me. See you in the morning," she said to Sǫndúlfr. Her gaze held no malice as it brushed over Wooyoung's huddled form. Sǫndúlfr nodded gratefully and pulled her in around her hips.

"Just tell them I wanted to rest and guard him," he whispered against her lips. They kissed sweetly while Wooyoung stared into the dancing flames. He recalled how those lips had kissed him. Drunken and oh so ardent in their passion.

"I will. Good night." With those words, she called the dog to her side and left the hut together with her.

The second only Sǫndúlfr and Wooyoung were left in the wooden hut, the Viking let go of a breath. He retrieved two wooden bowls from the desk in the corner and brought them over. Once he had scooped some stew in both, he handed one to Wooyoung carefully. The blanket slipped from his shoulder when Wooyoung reached for it, but it was warm enough that he just let it rest around his hips. He was skinny and had little fat, but next to Sǫndúlfr, Wooyoung felt like a twig.

For a few moments, they just sat in front of the fire and warmed their bodies. Wooyoung hadn't noticed how hungry he was. His drowning adventure had cost a lot of energy, and the stew had meat and potatoes in it that provided his strength back to him. Dreamily, he sighed. Sǫndúlfr's wife was an excellent cook.

"Do you have children?" Wooyoung asked to make small talk. He didn't know why that was the first thing that came to his mind. He hadn't asked Sandalius and Suusaandar the same.

Sǫndúlfr lowered his bowl into his lap and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

"I'm unable to have children. Ljóðey and I live alone with Bein."

"Oh... I'm sorry." Embarrassed, Wooyoung looked at his stew. The mixture of ingredients didn't look half as appetising as it tasted.

"No need to apologise. Let's talk about what you mentioned earlier. About you knowing me." The nonchalance in the man's voice brought some confidence back to Wooyoung. He sat up straighter and risked a peek at the Viking's face. Sǫndúlfr already looked back at him with misty eyes that reflected the dancing flames in front of them.

"Do you know the places I described? Back in Rome, I had black hair. And in Babylon, your hair was about as long as now, but straight and tied up a lot. You wore pretty orange veils back then. You were the concubine of a king."

"I remember, yes," Sǫndúlfr whispered it in awe as if he had tapped into a forbidden well of wisdom long lost. The shine in his eyes softened Wooyoung's voice further. The privacy of the hut in the night while the fire crackled next to them set an atmosphere he was weak for.

"Who are you? That I found you again after so long?"

The nervous chuckle that escaped Sǫndúlfr's lips resonated in Wooyoung's heart. In the dancing light of the flames, the handsome man looked admirably soft.

"I think you won't believe me if I tell you."

Wooyoung's lips quirked into a matching grin. He emptied his bowl so he could put it aside and lean back on his hands. His full attention was directed at his companion. Warm, the fire heated Wooyoung's chest until it got too hot under his blanket.

"Try me."

Sǫndúlfr visibly hesitated to tell him. His eyes flickered between Wooyoung's eyes, his lips, and the fireplace. He gnawed on his own lips for a moment before he voiced the words carefully, as if he would snatch them back the moment Wooyoung's eyes changed.

"I lived back then. I lived... for many hundred years now. I don't die as the humans around me do."

A soft gasp threatened to slip from Wooyoung's lips, but he caught himself. All interest and wonder that bubbled up in him got shoved back down as he sat up slowly.

"So... You are really the same person? Whom I met twice?"

Sǫndúlfr nodded hesitantly.

"I don't remember it all but... Yes, I think I am. I never thought I would meet someone who is the same."

Wooyoung's heart cracked a bit at the raw yearning in his voice. His gaze on Wooyoung was so vulnerable, so open. And while Wooyoung wanted to jump in joy and bury the man under a mountain of questions, the chilly truth broke down on him first.

This man in front of him was immortal. Just how the myths said and just how he sought a formula to become.

But this man in front of him was also incredibly lost. The tears that shone in his eyes conveyed years of loneliness. Of confusion, of loss, of fear. He wasn't a modern man who wished for prolonged life. He lived far from technologies and safety through epochs of war and change.

This man had seen more than Wooyoung could ever fathom seeing. And it all came down to him grasping for Wooyoung's hands with a trembling grip.

"I never- I don't remember you, but I am so thankful. Because I had no one return. Seeing someone again after such a long time is-" His voice broke. Taken aback, Wooyoung clutched his fingers as well. He didn't know how to react to the centuries of emotion that swam in the man's eyes. How he even had to react to having found an immortal so effortlessly.

"I'm not... like you," Wooyoung replied. Sǫndúlfr's shoulders had hunched as he sunk into himself to cradle Wooyoung's hands close like a precious good.

"I am from further beyond in time. I travel through time but I live in the year 2087."

Sǫndúlfr looked confused, but he didn't back out. His finger pads were rough on Wooyoung's skin, but their touch was familiar to him.

"And what year is it now?"

"838. I last saw you about a thousand years ago and my birth time is more than another thousand years in the future," Wooyoung whispered. His throat was constricted as if tied shut by a string.

A shuddering breath escaped Sǫndúlfr.

"Oh... That long. So you... exist only sometimes."

"Yes, I do."

Silence spread between them. Neither knew where to start with the rush of questions they had, so they just held onto each other. Crackling, the fire next to them ate away at the wood provided to it.

Sǫndúlfr had lowered his eyes to the ground, and he looked so incredibly battered down and depressed that Wooyoung's heart clenched in his chest uncomfortably. This was what laid behind the facade of the royal concubine and the outgoing Roman lord.

Wooyoung didn't notice that he reached out for the other man until his hand already touched his cheek. Through tear-ridden lashes, Sǫndúlfr looked up at him.

"But I am here now. And I want to listen to everything you have to tell me. How can I help you?"

By the time Sǫndúlfr reached to wrap his arms around Wooyoung's waist, the historian basically already sat in his lap. When their chests aligned, Wooyoung wrapped his arms around those shoulders he gravitated to. And Sǫndúlfr seemed to be the same. He seemed to remember Wooyoung faint like a ghost in the distance as he engulfed Wooyoung's waist with his hands.

"Can you... Make me remember? The memories in my head; they are so precious. You were precious."

And just like that, Wooyoung's heart melted in his chest. He surged forward to catch Sǫndúlfr's mouth with his lips and drew all the memories he had stored so reverently in his own heart back to the surface. With one hand on Wooyoung's nape and the other one on his waist, Sǫndúlfr kissed him back.

His tears were salty on Wooyoung's tongue.