Chapter Five #2
Hakon was driving ruthlessly, stretching her walls, slamming into her punished ass.
The sting in her bottom mingled with the friction in her pussy, and Sif’s vision blurred as a second orgasm claimed her body.
She was losing her sense of self, falling into a fog of sensations, time and space disappearing under the pressure of an ecstatic now.
Just when she thought that she could travel no farther, Hakon increased his tempo and force, just as earlier he had increased the tempo and force of her spanking.
“Please…please,” she begged. Sif didn’t even know what she was begging for.
Hakon gave one last world-shattering thrust and exploded inside her, sending Sif over the edge one final time. She felt her pussy clamp down on Hakon’s stiff cock, milking him of every last drop of his seed.
Slowly, the forest came back into focus. Sif heard the sounds of birdsong, and the breeze blowing through the leaves. Hakon withdrew from her then gently rearranged her disordered clothing.
She straightened up. Her body felt thoroughly used, in the most delicious ways. Sif turned to face Hakon, leaning a bit unsteadily on the fallen tree, wincing at the sting in her bottom.
“Thank you, Hakon,” she said softly. “That was incredible, and the Goddess knows I needed it.”
“We’re in this together,” said Hakon. “Together, we can face whatever storms may come.” He stepped forwards and folded his arms around her, holding her head to his chest. “So now, my love,” said Hakon, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking into her eyes, “tell me of your news.”
All the information that had been driven from Sif’s mind by Hakon’s loving discipline came flooding back.
“The enemy has a face, Hakon!” Sif gasped. “It’s the Skraelings! They have burned Sigtuna and are making their way to Gotland!”
Hakon narrowed his eyes, processing this information.
Dread rose up in him. His whole life, he had heard stories of the terrible and savage people of the far North.
The only thing that had saved the civilized peoples was that the Skraelings hated each other just a little more than they hated everyone else.
“‘When the Skraelings break bread, let the world dread,’” Hakon muttered.
“Indeed,” said Sif. “It appears that the Skraelings have sat down and broken bread with each other and formed some kind of unity. Now they come for us.”
“How do you know this?” asked Hakon.
“From Baedi. The Sisters can see far and wide, although their vision has been clouded much of late. They have seen the sacking of Sigtuna, and that a fleet of Skraeling reavers is set to fall upon Visby.”
“Gods.” Hakon sat down on the trunk next to Sif. “Do the Sisters have any counsel as to what we should do?”
“Baedi advises that we go to Visby, talk to the Jarl of Gotland, and persuade him to raise his defenses. The Sisters themselves will be arriving in two days to lend their strength to the defense of the city.”
“They’re leaving the Ironwood?” said Hakon, shocked.
“They’ve already left. There will be no place for the Ironwood to hide if the forests are burned down around their ears,” replied Sif grimly.
Hakon took a few moments to gather his thoughts.
Leaving the Ironwood! Such a thing had never happened.
Somehow, this impressed the gravity of the situation upon Hakon in a way that nothing else could have.
He looked at Sif and felt his love for her rise in his heart.
With my lady by my side, all things are possible.
“Come,” he said, getting to his feet and extending a hand to Sif. “We must tell my brother and his foster family. We have much work in front of us.”
Sif looked at him wryly. “It was not me who put the world on pause for the sake of teaching me a lesson.”
Hakon looked at her in such a way that caused Sif to blush and look at the ground.
“Sif, my dear heart,” he said gravely, “you are far too important to me for me to neglect you. The world could be falling around our ears, but you will be my priority.” His love and desire for Sif swept up inside him once more, and Hakon seized her in his arms, kissing her deeply.
Her lips parted and let him in, and he plundered her mouth, long and slow.
Finally, their mouths parted and Hakon gave Sif one last kiss on the top of her head.
“Come,” he said.
***
Thorulf and Ignetha took the news stoically.
“I could feel the world begin to turn and knew things would not end with strange skies,” said Thorulf.
“I cannot believe the Sisters are on the move,” said Ignetha. “If nothing else were to signal a coming disaster, that would be enough.”
“Let’s hope the Jarl feels the same way,” said Hakon. “Who is the Jarl these days?”
“That would be Jarl Birger,” replied Thorulf.
“Still?” asked Gunnar, raising his eyebrows.
“A cautious fellow, who has lengthened his rule by seeing how others act before he commits himself,” observed Thorulf.
“It will be a challenge to get him moving, but he is no coward.” The homesteader got to his feet.
“Ignetha, we will not be safe here. We must prepare to move within the walls of the city. Breca, Ulf, your mother will need strong arms to help her make things ready.”
The twins looked at each other and nodded. “Where will you go, Father?” asked Ulf.
“Our lives depend on convincing Jarl Birger to act swiftly, which is something against his nature,” replied Thorulf. “I go to add my voice, as someone the Jarl knows, at least.”
“May the gods give power to your words,” said Ignetha fervently.
Thorulf smiled. “If they so choose.”
***
“Skraelings,” repeated Jarl Birger. His hands gripped the carved wood of his ornate seat at the far end of the chamber.
“Yes, my Jarl,” said Thorulf then held his peace. Hakon opened his mouth to add more but desisted after a subtle gesture from the homesteader.
“They have burned Sigtuna, you say,” continued the Jarl in his gravelly voice. He turned his head to one of the men standing behind him. “Eirik, what news do we have from Sigtuna?”
A heavyset man stepped forwards, head bowed. “None, my Jarl. Nothing for at least two weeks.” He stepped back.
“Nothing for two weeks,” echoed Jarl Birger. He brushed a lock of stringy grey hair from his face. “Which is a message in itself.”
Hakon struggled to keep his patience in check.
Time mattered, and at every moment, the Skraelings sailed closer.
But Hakon had spent time in the court of the Emperor at Miklagard, where every moment was filled with ceremony and ritual.
It was jarring to find such a slow pace of decision-making among his own people, whom he regarded as swift and decisive, but he knew he must adjust.
“You have brought others with you,” observed the Jarl.
“Yes, my Jarl,” said Thorulf, motioning for the others to come forwards. Hakon felt himself the object of Jarl Birger’s heavy-lidded gaze, and looked back unflinchingly. The Jarl flicked dartlike glances at Gunnar and Sif then returned to his examination of Hakon.
“Tell your tale,” ordered Jarl Birger, in a voice like a raven croaking.
“My Jarl, I have been on a strange journey,” said Hakon. “It began with a dream-vision experienced by my woman.” He gestured towards Sif.
“Then let us hear this dream-vision,” intoned the Jarl. There were some chuckles from the men behind him, but he raised a hand and they fell silent.
“My Jarl, I had a vision of the Lady Freyja,” said Sif, to audible murmurs.
The Jarl seemed to leer faintly as he looked at her. Hakon focused on breathing slowly. “And who are you, to dream of Freyja and set the affairs of men into motion?” he drawled.
“I am Sif Astridsdottir, daughter of Jomsburg and Sister of the Ironwood,” said Sif proudly.
In Hakon’s eyes, Sif shone brightly in a darkened room, and his love and pride in her grew.
There was more muttering from the men behind the Jarl’s great chair, and he leaned back to listen to whispers before turning to regard those in front of him once more.
“And who might the two of you be?” asked the Jarl, turning his gaze.
“Hakon Brynnson, my Jarl, a son of the Jomsburg.”
“Gunnar Brynnson, my Jarl, also of the Jomsburg, and foster son to Thorulf Henrikson.”
“Of the Jomsburg,” repeated Jarl Birger, “but not Jomsvikings, I think.”
“No, my Jarl,” answered Hakon. “Before taking the Trials, my brother and I sought to learn more about the world and took the Long Road to Miklagard with Thorfin the Red. We had only just returned when we learned of Sif’s dream-vision.”
“Then I suppose it is time to hear about this portentous dream-vision,” said the Jarl.
Once again, Hakon concentrated on his breathing. This was taking so long, with no guarantee of success. He hated seeing Sif having to confront the Jarl’s skepticism and its undertones of mockery. Sif, however, gave no sign that she was being asked anything other than a simple question.
My woman. Gods, how I love her.
“My Jarl,” she began, “I dreamed that I stood in Folkvangr, with the Lady Freyja speaking directly to me. She spoke of a terrible danger to Gotland, and Visby and the Ironwood in particular. She said that her vision was clouded, and that an unknown threat was coming from the far North. The Lady Freyja said that both magic and swords would be needed to face this threat, and so my companions and I have journeyed here.”
“Well, we certainly have at least a few swords, but we’re rather short on magic here,” said Jarl Birger dryly, to the accompaniment of chuckles from the men behind him.
“Then I have good news, my Jarl,” said Sif innocently. “The Sisters of the Ironwood are on the move and will be joining us in a little less than two days’ time.”
Hakon knew that it was unwise to goad nobility, but he did enjoy the reaction to Sif’s pronouncement. Jarl Birger’s hooded eyes flew open, and he jumped as if he had been pricked with a pin.
Hakon did not enjoy what followed.