Chapter 14 #4
Wrapping his arms around her, he drew her with him as he laid back down upon the bed.
As she snuggled against his chest, he pulled soft furs over them both, enveloping her in a warm embrace.
“Tell me about Fólkvangr and your life as a Valkyrie. I can feel your eyes upon me when I gaze out at the sea.”
She told him of Freyja bringing her to Sessrúmnir and the seier lessons with her goddess móeir in the Amber Hall that left her with violently shaking limbs. She described how the Valkyries worked in three triads, selecting the slain through different forms of seier.
“My Laguz Triad wields seier through water,” she murmured, her whisper laced with sorrow.
“I watch you every day through the Mirrored Sea. O, Sigurd… I long for you with an endless yearning that robs my breath and gnaws at my bones. Though I am proud to ride as a Valkyrie, the price of losing you is more than I can bear.” She buried her face and sobbed on his chest as he softly stroked her long hair.
“We are soulbound,” he whispered, kissing the top of her bent head.
“Though distance may separate our bodies, our spirits are forever entwined. I am yours and you are mine. In this life and the next.” When he lifted her chin so she would look at him, his smile clenched her heavy heart.
He kissed the ouroboros above her left breast, sending a surge of seier through their unbreakable bond. “Now, tell me more.”
She wiped her tears and tossed her blonde hair over a shoulder, determined to enjoy every precious, fleeting moment with him. Taking a deep breath of the salty air blowing through the open window, she smiled and continued her tale.
“You met my white winged horse when Freyja claimed me at the Sólhjarta Tournament.” She sat beside him, tracing patterns in his chest hair as he laid upon the bed, brawny arms tucked behind his head.
“Himingdrápa is more than just a steed to me—he is my companion, my guide in the skies…he carries me into battle when I select the slain.”
Brynhildr smiled at the man she loved with every beat of her fierce Valkyrie heart.
“But I also have a golden falcon named Gyllin. She is blood bound to me—and therefore, to you, since you and I sealed our blood oath in seier and starlight.” She leaned down to nuzzle the dark blond hair on his inked chest, deeply inhaling his Sea Wolf scent, locking it inside her soul to bring back with her to Fólkvangr.
Raising her head, she gazed into his feral lupine eyes.
“Falcons bear our messages to Midgard,” she whispered, kissing the ouroboros which blazed above his thumping heart.
“Odin has his ravens, but Freyja has falcons. And if ever a golden falcon should come to you…you’ll know it’s Gyllin, bearing a message from me. ”
He nodded and smiled. Love, lust, and longing blazed in his hungry gaze.
He took her hand, opened her fingers, and kissed the inside of her palm.
“You must leave at dawn,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms and laying her down on the soft furs.
“Our last joining was urgent and rushed,” he murmured, drawing her lips into his own. “This time, I want to make it last.”
As her Sea Wolf’s warm lips worshipped her body once again, Brynhildr surrendered to bliss.
In the morning, just before dawn, she and Sigurd made love a third time, desperation and despair mingling with ecstasy.
She reluctantly rose from his warm bed. Her heart heavy as lead, she donned her golden corslet and amber leather armor, wrapping the blanket over her head while he quickly dressed and secured his wolfskin cloak.
Hand in hand, they slipped down the dark hallway and out of the fortress.
Skogul and Kára awaited on the clifftop, Himingdrápa nickering to her between their winged horses.
“Find the dwarf and reforge your faeir’s sword to slay the dragon and claim the hoard of treasure.
With the winged helm, the golden brynja, and Agnar’s aid, you can sail to Sweden to defeat King Lyngvi and reclaim your Volsung lands.
” Tears streaking her wind-whipped cheeks, she kissed his bearded lips and shared his halting breath.
“I am yours, Sigurd Sea Wolf. I shall watch you every day through the Mirrored Sea…and long for you with every beat of my Sun Falcon Valkyrie heart.”
Tearing herself from his loving arms, she dashed across the clifftop meadow.
Leapt into the saddle, flanked by her Laguz Triad sisters.
And, as Himindrápa unfurled his magnificent white wings, flew west over the open sea.
When they descended through the clouds and landed on the wildflower-strewn field near the gleaming amber walls of Sessrúmnir, Freyja and the other Valkyries stood waiting.
Shock, disbelief, and horror etched upon their stunned faces, they watched as Brynhildr silently slid from the saddle and turned to face her goddess móeir.
But before she took a single step or uttered a single word, a thunderous spear arced through the sunlit sky and slammed into the fertile earth at her feet.
“Gugnir.” Kára whispered, pallid skin and pale eyes wide with fright.
Freyja’s frigid voice cut like a steel blade as she fixed Brynhildr with an icy glare. “Odin arrives from Valhalla. Prepare to face his wrath.”