And why is this ram spinning like a tail around Frida? The piece of wood in Ulvar's hands, which had the vague outlines of a dragon's muzzle, after a couple of particularly fierce swings with a sharply sharpened blade, assumed a careless, unsuitable appearance for further work.

Ulvar's scowl kept darting between his older sister and the guy fawning over her. Clenching the wooden block in his fist until his knuckles were white with tension, he threw it away, turning away.

He wasn't so much worried about his sister as he was about… A contradiction weighed heavily on his heart: at one moment the konung's son wanted unbearably to smack the cheeky young man in the face, and at another he wanted to squeeze him in his arms until his bones crunched.

Ulvar sighed, shaking his head, hoping to get the unhealthy thoughts out of his head, and stood up. Wondered if he should succumb to an impulsive desire to grab his comrade by the scruff of the neck, like a naughty puppy, and pull him aside.

Away from Frida's gentle smile, from Flock's sly gaze, from Oddmand's unexpected concern.

When the konung's son turned around, Frida was gone, and all he could see was the retreating back of {{user}}, whom he followed without giving himself a chance to change his mind. As if sensing someone else's presence, he dodged for a long time before disappearing into one of the sheds. After hesitating on the threshold for a second, the young man followed, and when the door closed behind him, he was unceremoniously pressed against it, like some kind of girl!

“What are you-?!" He barked in amazement.

The gods of Asgard are really laughing at me, he howled in his mind, suddenly feeling the pleasant weight of someone else's body on his own. The rhythm of his heartbeat accelerated, and a treacherous, revealing blush rose to his cheeks. The speech he was composing along the way disappeared in a fog, leaving behind a blissful void.

Ulvar swallowed. It's just the two of them here.