Epilogue
Njord
The black beach stretched endlessly beneath Fonn’s mighty wings, framed by the ocean to his right and the mountains to his left.
Njord leaned into the wind, holding onto the protective ridges along Fonn’s neck as she glided across the waves.
Spray kissed his face, salt-sharp and clean, and below him the coastline of Vanaheim unfolded in familiar curves of jagged rocks and black sand.
The midnight sun hung low on the horizon, painting everything in purple and gold.
Fonn chirped, a sound that still made his heart ache because she sounded exactly like Jokull. He followed her gaze down to the beach and laughed.
There!
A lone rider was galloping along the waterline, sand flying from the hooves of a powerful horse.
Even from this height, Njord recognized that particular grace, the way Thori moved with his mount like they were one creature.
The horse was a gray gelding from Njord’s own stables, sturdy and swift, and Thori rode without a saddle and nothing but a simple halter.
Showing off, Njord thought with amusement.
They’d left Nóatún at dawn, Thori claiming he needed to clear his head after three days spent indoors during the storm that had battered the coast. A longship had taken Thori to shore, and Njord had given him some space before following.
But then Fonn had nudged him with her snout, already eager for flight, and Njord had given in to the temptation.
Fonn was still young, barely a season old, but she’d grown with alarming speed. Her scales gleamed white and blue like Jokull’s, though the patterns were different, more like ice flowers blooming across her body. And her eyes held an intelligence that was both ancient and new.
Fonn took another sharp curve, lower this time, and Thori noticed them. He looked over his shoulder, his golden hair streaming behind him in the wind. Even at this distance, Njord could see his delighted grin.
Then Thori urged his horse faster, leaning low over the gelding’s neck.
Fleeing.
Asking to be chased.
To be hunted down.
Njord laughed.
Fonn dove, gaining even more speed and skimming so close to the surf that her wingtips nearly touched the foam, and Thori coaxed the gelding to go faster.
They raced along the beach, dragon and rider in pursuit of the fleeing horseman.
Fonn’s shadow flew across the sand, and her pleased rumbling vibrated through Njord’s whole body.
She was playing, he realized. This was a game to her, the way it had been with Jokull when she’d chased seals through the waves or circled Njord’s longships in lazy spirals.
They were gaining.
Thori urged the gelding faster, but the horse was tiring.
Black sand flew from its hooves, and its sides heaved.
He’d been riding hard, and now with a dragon giving chase…
Fonn raced past the horse, so close that Thori probably could’ve touched them if he’d extended his hand.
Her shadow engulfed them, horse and rider, for a heartbeat, and the gelding stumbled.
Njord didn’t think. He simply dropped from Fonn’s back, reaching for Thori. He caught him around the waist mid-fall, using his momentum to pull Thori sideways and out of the saddle. They tumbled down into the soft sand together.
“Caught you.”
They came to rest half in the surf, waves lapping at their legs. Njord braced himself on his forearms, looking down at Thori sprawled beneath him. Golden hair spread across black sand like a halo. Amber eyes bright with mischief and something softer. Cheeks flushed from the chase.
He was breathtaking.
“You’re impossible.” Thori laughed.
“You were asking to be chased. Running from me down my own beach, riding along the waterline.”
“Your beach?” Thori arched an eyebrow in familiar challenge. “All of Vanaheim belongs to you now?”
“This stretch does.” Njord couldn’t help but grin. “Everything the tide touches.”
A wave washed over them, cold water seeping through their clothes. He could feel Thori’s heart hammering against his chest. Njord’s hand came up to cradle his jaw, thumb brushing across his lower lip, and Thori’s breath hitched.
“And what do you do with trespassers?” Thori asked, flushed and playful.
“Depends on the trespasser.”
Thori grinned at him, and he couldn’t help but lean down and kiss the smug expression right from his face. Melting into the touch, Thori’s hands came up to fist in Njord’s damp tunic.
Overhead, Fonn chirped.
They broke apart, and Thori reached up to brush sand from Njord’s cheek; the tenderness of the gesture almost unbearable.
Fonn landed nearby with a splash, sending up a spray that drenched them both further. She chittered, amused, and nosed at Njord’s shoulder.
“Yes, yes, I know,” he told her without looking away from Thori. “We’re a mess.”
“Your fault,” Thori said without heat.
“Worth it.”
“We should probably head back,” Thori said, though he made no move to pull away. “Andora and Gylfa will worry.”
“Let them worry. We’re gods, not children in need of care.”
“You say that now, but remember what happened last time we disappeared for a whole afternoon?”
Njord huffed. “Gylfa needs to learn that we don’t require constant supervision.”
“She found us naked in the hot springs,” Thori pointed out, clearly unaffected by the memory and the fact that their state of undress was the most harmless part Gylfa saw of them.
Heat crept up Njord’s neck at the memory.
“That was your fault. You were the one who suggested—”
Thori leaned up and kissed him, swallowing the rest of the sentence, and Njord decided that perhaps Gylfa was the one who needed to learn, because he couldn’t be bothered. The sun was warm on his back, the beach empty, and the dragon rumbling contentedly behind them sounded almost like laughter.
Thori’s hands slid into his hair, tugging, and Njord groaned against his lips. The tide washed over them, and Njord tasted salt and desire, sensing the faint crackle of Thori’s thunder responding to his touch.
Precious. That’s what Thori was. Precious and his.
Fonn’s shadow fell over them both, and somewhere down the beach, the gelding whinnied.
Later, they would have to retrieve the horse.
Later, they would return to Nóatún, to warmth and dry clothes and the responsibilities waiting for them.
But for now, pinning Thori beneath him on a black sand beach under the midnight sun, with his dragon watching over them and the waves singing their ancient song, Njord had never been happier.