Chapter One #2
“They are also well, although Gunhild caught a fever in her chest last winter and has been moving much more slowly ever since. Still, her spirit is strong. The Sisterhood has been growing in size, all told,” continued Sif.
“The Elder Sisters are hard at work with their teaching. I think they fear the loss of learning with the passing of the seasons. Baedi, in particular, has taken a great deal of the teaching load. They are particularly skilled with the ancient texts that no one except Baedi and Lady Brede herself can still translate.”
“How goes your own education, my dear?” asked Astrid softly.
Sif flushed and briefly looked down. “Truth to tell, they make a fuss over me, Mother. The Elder Sisters say that they have not seen a talent like mine for generations. They tell me that they want to make me a galdr-songvari.”
Both Astrid and Kasia sat back in surprise. Huw glanced at Brynn, who shook his head then asked, “What, pray tell, is a galdr-songvari?”
Astrid provided the answer. “It’s the old tongue, Huw. It roughly translates into ‘spellsinger.’” She took a deep drink of her mead. “No spellsingers have been seen or heard of in the Ironwood for generations.”
“Well that sounds very good!” said Huw encouragingly. “We always knew that magic ran strong in your veins.”
“It would be a high honor, Father,” answered Sif. She hesitated then added, “It would mean many years of training.”
Huw’s expression seemed frozen then passed through anger and finally into sadness.
Astrid put a hand on his arm, and he covered her hand with his own.
He looked at his daughter appraisingly. “Ah,” he said finally.
“Your return to us here at the Jomsburg is only a visit. You are here to say goodbye.”
“What they are offering is a high honor,” murmured Astrid.
Kasia was looking at Sif with awe. “This could mean a new golden age for the Sisterhood,” she said.
Although Sif heard the words of her mother and aunt, her eyes had not left her father’s face. He seemed to have aged years in a matter of minutes. Her breath caught in her chest.
Then, slowly, a smile crept across Huw’s face. It began at his mouth then climbed up to his eyes, until the aged warrior was beaming with pride. His daughter allowed herself to breathe again.
“My dear daughter,” said Huw, his voice heavy with emotion, “I owe my life and happiness to Freyja, the goddess of the Ironwood. For you to have the opportunity to serve the goddess, and your Ironwood Sisters, in such a way…it fills my heart with pride, and joy. I could ask for no more, though”—he rubbed at the corners of his eyes—“I will miss you terribly.”
Sif could not hold herself back anymore, and with tears running down her cheeks, stood to embrace her father and mother. After a moment, Kasia joined them in their embrace, and finally Brynn, after pausing to rub at his own eyes, enveloped them all in his massive arms.
They all held each other for a long moment, until they were interrupted by a young man flinging open the door to the Wanderer, and announcing excitedly, “Thorfin and his crew have been spotted off the point!”
“My boys!” roared Brynn, disentangling himself from the others.
He leaned down to give Sif a kiss on the top of her head.
“Well done, lass. I’ll want to hear all about this spellsinging of yours.
But for now, I want to clap my eyes on my boys, and see what Miklagard has made of them!
Come, Kasia, our sons have come home!” Sweeping his cloak around his shoulders, he half dragged his wife along with him, rushing out of the tavern.
“No matter how old he may get, he’s still a thunderstorm in human form,” laughed Astrid, shaking her head. She turned and looked at her daughter. “Do you wish to go, Sif? No doubt they’ll go straight from the docks to the Hammer. You could meet him—I mean, them—there.”
Sif shook her golden head. “I think I’ll take a walk. Get some fresh air.”
Huw and Astrid smiled at each other as their daughter left the tavern.
***
Sif stood at the railing by the dock, letting the sounds of the evening wash over her.
The raucous noises of laughter and celebration drifted from the doors of The Swinging Hammer; clearly, the welcome party was in full swing.
The background of the sounds of human cheer mingled with the quieter but closer sounds of the water lapping against the shore, coupled with the occasional splash made by seals playing in the harbor.
“You remembered,” came a voice from behind her. Sif straightened, and was about to turn, when the voice said, “No. Don’t move. Keep your hands on the railing.”
A thrill ran up her spine as she gripped the wooden railing tightly. The voice was familiar to her, as familiar as breathing, but the years had given the voice depth and timbre.
“I wasn’t sure if you would come,” Sif said, and she hated how small her voice sounded.
She heard footsteps behind her, and then she could feel his presence; his warmth, his nearness, the scent of him, which, while it had changed in subtle ways, was undeniably him.
“Hakon,” she said, and lifted one of her hands from the railing as she began to turn for a second time.
“No,” said the Viking. “Stay exactly as you are.” He moved closer and placed his hands on hers, pressing himself into her back.
Sif arched as she felt Hakon’s body against her own. Even through the layers of clothing that separated them, she could feel his hard length pressing against her ass. She gasped. Before she could even think about it, she was pressing backwards, pushing her bottom against his groin.
No, no, no! This is not how this is supposed to go. I need to tell him my decision. But how can I think clearly?
Sif needed space, room to recover her wits and tell Hakon what she had decided after their long years apart. She tried to move yet again.
Hakon’s hand struck her bottom with a firm smack. It was as if he had lit a sudden fire in her nether regions. Unbidden, Sif let out a whimper that had far more to do with surging desire than any kind of pain.
“Naughty girl.” Hakon’s lips were brushing against her ear, and she shivered. “Do you need a lesson in obedience?”
“N-no…” Sif managed. His hands—larger and more powerful than she remembered—circled possessively around her waist. Her breath caught as one hand slid downwards, cupping her mons over the material of her skirt.
His other hand rose upwards, cupping her breast. Suddenly he was pressing into her again, molding her body to his, and she could feel the throbbing pulse of his need against the curve of her ass.
Sif was afraid that she was going to soak right through her skirt. Her body was sending thrills of pleasure everywhere. She couldn’t think of anything beyond having Hakon—her Hakon—take her right here, against the railing, amidst the salt air and the sounds of the sea.
His hands. They were gripping the folds of her skirt, dragging the material up higher and higher.
What had she meant to tell him? Gods and goddesses, did it matter?
“Push your ass out,” his voice whispered in her ear, rough with rising desire.
I can’t say no to him. Freyja help me, I don’t even want to say no to him.
Sif arched her back once more to present her naked backside to the Viking. Her Viking. Her hands trembled on the railing as she felt the tip of his rock-hard length nestle against the petals of her sex.
Slowly, he pressed forwards. Agonizingly slowly.
“Gods, Hakon, do it!” she urged. “Take me!”
Sif heard his low chuckle in her ear, and he drove forwards, hard, sinking the full length of his shaft inside her. Her knees buckled, and Hakon held her hips firmly as pleasure blossomed inside the deepest parts of her.
“Sacred—” The rest of Sif’s ecstatic cry was cut off as Hakon drove into her relentlessly, again and again and again.
Even as the waves of her first orgasm ran through her shuddering body, she was overcome by a second, and then the surges of pleasure seemed to blur, and the entirety of Sif’s world shrank to encompass only the feel of the wooden railing under her hands, the moonlight shimmering on the water, and above all else, the rapturous pleasure of being rammed by Hakon’s powerful cock.
Sif was afraid she might pass out and fall.
She would have fallen, had it not been for her Viking’s powerful hands grasping her hips.
Then, she could feel something change in the manner of Hakon’s rough taking of her.
His thrusts seemed to be more urgent, driving harder, as if he was climbing towards something higher, and then she could feel her own body respond and climb with him…
until finally, gloriously, Hakon sent a stream of cum into her battered pussy, just as she clamped down on his cock in a final convulsion of ecstasy, and the two of them were lost in the graceful downwards arc of post-orgasmic bliss.
Hakon brushed aside Sif’s golden hair, kissed the base of her neck, and gently withdrew.
“I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time.” He smiled, pulling up his breeches. “You must think me some youngling bedding his first wench, to be so swift. I promise you, I will take greater care the next time we couple. Which I hope will be later tonight,” he added.
Sif adjusted her clothing, her mind working furiously. Oh, gods and goddesses, what have you done? Foolish girl! How are you supposed to tell him now?
“I…I have matters I must attend to,” she blurted, aware of how foolish she sounded. “I’ll see you as soon as I can, but for now I must go.”
Hakon lifted a hand as if to stop her, but Sif said desperately, “Hakon, please,” and something in her tone of voice caused him to drop his hand. Deeply unsettled in her spirit, Sif rushed off into the night.
***