by T S Florence
Judging by the rigid posture of Freya, when Cnut turned to ride back to his friends, he had been speaking to her of Magnus, and he doubted it was kind words that he was talking to her with.
Skald kicked his horse into a trot, riding up to Freya.
“Is everything alright?” Skald asked.
“What do you mean?” Freya returned his question with a question, her attempt at hiding her emotion was clear, but her eyes gave her away. It was not fear in her eyes, but something else.
“Was Cnut bothering you?” Skald asked.
“Do not say anything to him, please,” Freya said in a hushed tone, embarrassed by his question, looking around to see if anyone could hear.
“Why are you embarrassed?” Skald asked, lowering his voice.
“I’m not embarrassed,” Freya said.
“Then what’s the matter?” Skald asked.
“There is nothing wrong. So stop asking, please,” Freya said.
“Very well, shield maiden,” Skald said.
They rode side by side in silence, after that. Skald turned to look at Cnut, who was focussed on the road ahead of him. Skald knew the man could feel his hard stare, but he did not have the balls to turn and match his gaze.
“I can kill him,” Skald said.
“Skald, you can’t kill every single person who is an inconvenience to your life,” she whisper-shouted at him.
“It has worked so far,” he said.
“And now Campbell will never walk again. He is broken,” Freya said.
“That’s unfortunate,” Skald said.
“Yes. You changed his life forever,” Freya replied.
“It’s unfortunate that he still lives,” Skald clarified.
“You’re terrible,” Freya frowned.
“He was just as dangerous as an enemy on a battlefield, maybe even more. It was necessary,” he clipped.
“I don’t want you killing any more men in my name,” Freya responded.
“Very well, wife,” he said.
Despite the arguing, Skald saw a smile on her face, when he called her wife. It was there only for a moment, before she wrestled it away, taking its place with a frown.
“You’re allowed to smile, wife,” Skald said.
“Stop teasing me, Skald,” Freya said, wrestling again with another smile.
They talked back and forth for the rest of the day, more teasing and arguing, but all of it good natured. Skald felt as if he were in a dream, with no more obstacles in his way to stop him from living with Freya. Ivar was not displeased at the marriage, and even if he was, he wouldn’t have done anything.
The Scottish countryside was in full bloom with lush grass and fields all around, some of it being trampled due to the sheer size of their army, travelling back to England. Though the farmers would be displeased, they would not dare confront them, the little good it would do.
They camped the night along the edge of a wooded area, using the trees for shelter. Servants set up a grand tent for Skald and Freya, in the same area as Ivar and Isla. They rolled out carpets and set up great candlesticks that were as tall as a man, to provide light for when the sun set. The tent was more luxurious than most men’s homes.
“Your back is healing nicely,” Freya said, as she inspected his back that night.
“The Scot didn’t know how to use a whip,” Skald said, nonchalantly.
“Oh please, you were in a terrible state when I saved you,” Freya sighed.
“I was doing just fine,” Skald said.
“If you call barely being able to stand up fine, then yes, you were fine,” Freya said.
“Just like your conversation with Cnut was fine?” Skald asked
“You have tried solving my problems for me, and look where it got you, Skald. Let me figure this out by myself,” Freya said.
“I cannot promise you that,” Skald said, looking at the candle’s flame, atop the large candlestick.
“Well I would appreciate it if you tried,” She said, quietly.
“I will try. But if I think he is a danger to you, I will end him,” Skald said, finality in his voice.
“I do not want any more men to die because of me,” Freya clipped.
“It would not be because of you, wife,” Skald said.
“Don’t call me wife when we argue,” Freya said, fighting a smile.
“But it makes you smile,” he said, looking at her.
“Yes but I don’t want to smile when we argue,” she said.
“You are a strange creature,” Skald said.
“I’n not strange, you’re just acting stupid,” Freya said.
“Very well,” Skald said, as he stretched his arms up, causing a satisfying tugging sensation on his healing scars,”
Freya
Freya left the tent to go wash her face in the nearby river, before she was going to sleep. She noticed Cnut sitting near their tent with the same group of five or six men, talking in hushed voices.
She made an effort to get past them while drawing as little attention to herself as possible, and crept into the woods, where the river flowed quietly through, a vein of the country, providing life to all that came to it.
The water was icy cold and refreshing to touch. She sat by the river, letting the water run through her fingers, as she contemplated the last month of her life. A snapping twig caused her to turn around, but she saw no one.
“Skald, I told you I didn’t need you to accompany me to the river, I’m just fine by myself,” She said.
“You should never show all your cards to a face you cannot see,” a voice sounded from the dark.
“Who’s there?” She asked, realising immediately that she had been a fool to tell whoever it was that she was alone, recognising that the voice was not Skald’s.
A bald head with a red heart and rosy cheeks came out of the dark, surprising Freya at just how close he had gotten, before she heard him.
“Freya, Goddess of Death, your name precedes you. You are not frightening at all,” he said.
“Underestimation is a far more useful weapon than intimidation,” Freya said, smiling at him, though her heart was racing, and she could feel the hairs on her neck standing standing up. Something about Cnut felt off, and it wasn’t his open disdain towards her, but something more sinister.
“It was a pity that Gregor and Gorm died, I know Gregor would have enjoyed you,” Cnut said, flashing his yellow teeth in an ugly smile.
“He squealed like a pig when he died,” Freya smiled back, trying to swallow the disgust that she felt.
“Careful, bitch,” Cnut said.
“I would watch your language when talking to our guest,” a female voice said, coming from out of the darkness. Isla stepped down from behind Cnut, walking towards Freya, only stopping once she had reached her side.
Relief washed over Freya like the water from the stream that flowed quietly through the woods.
“She should watch her manners,” Cnut said.
“She should watch her manners, Princess Isla,” Isla corrected him.
“Yes, princess,” Cnut conceded, looking at the ground.
“I would like to talk with Freya alone, Cnut. I haven’t yet found reason to tell Ivar of how you’ve spoken to me, don’t give me one,” she clipped, looking towards Freya, in dismissal of Cnut.
Without another word, he turned and walked back to the camp, yet Freya couldn’t help shake the feeling that he had achieved exactly what he wanted to, by following her down to the river. To intimidate her. And despite her greatest efforts to hide it, she couldn’t help but feel like he knew he had succeeded in what he set out to do.
“He’s a terrible man, and has caused nothing but problems since he’s arrived in Newcastle. I’m going to ask Ivar to send him away,” Isla said, smiling to Freya.
“Why did you help me?” Freya asked.
“Because you gave me a choice, that day,” Isla said, taking her hand, before continuing, “You knew I came from a family with money, and you
could have taken me with you, but you chose not to. You treated me well, despite circumstances,” Isla said.
“I kept you as a prisoner,” Freya said, confused.
“I know that, and it’s in the past. You paid dearly on that day, and from what Ragnar said, you never quite recovered,” Isla said.
Freya began to break down, and decided to tell Isla everything, from the moment she shot down Magnus the Mighty, the following weeks when her men were slowly killed one by one, by Scottish raiding parties, before finally making it to the Mackenzie castle with only Jack left alive, just to be ransomed off to Gregor and Gorm, which started the whole ordeal with Skald.
“We’ve both been through difficult times, and we’ve both lost people,” Isla said, looking to her. But those times are done. You do not have to go back to those times. To be frank with you, Skald scares me, despite Ivar telling me he wouldn’t ever harm me. He has never actually done anything threatening towards me, but he obviously loves you deeply. And from what I’ve seen, if you have Skald looking out for you like Ivar looks out for me, then no man will ever be able to harm you like you’ve been harmed in the past,” Isla said.
Freya took Isla into a hug, crying on her shoulder, as Isla stroked her hair and whispered reassuring words into her ears.
“Once you’re in Newcastle, you don’t have to leave. You can stay,” Isla said.
“Thank you,” Freya said.
For the first time in her life, Freya did not feel a responsibility or obligation to be keeping anyone alive. She felt like she was cared for, and that finally, she didn’t need to fight.
31
Skald
Due to the sheer number of their party, they would need to pass through their viking village on the way back to Newcastle, for the roads that led directly to Newcastle from Scotland was already in poor shape from their journey to Scotland, making it treacherous for horses and carts, causing broken legs and wheels.
Skald sensed that Freya was in better spirits since their first night on the road, and the scabs were beginning to peel from his back, leaving shiny red scars. The pain had subsided to a minor annoyance, rather than mind numbing pain that caused him to grow dizzy after too much movement.
A new glow radiated from Freya, smiles came more easily, and she laughed a little more. Skald liked that. He liked it when she smiled. He really liked it when she laughed. He would steal a glance during the days when she wasn’t looking, and he would gaze outright, not caring when she looked back, and kept looking until she began to blush. He wanted her to be with him on his horse; he did not like that she had her own horse.
“We’re only a day’s ride from the village,” Skald said, as they lay in bed shortly after the sun had fallen in the sky, the walls of the tent danced to the movement of the candlelight.
“How can you tell?” Freya asked.
“I used to come out here and camp alone,” Skald said.
“Why?” Freya asked, frowning.
“I enjoy being alone, sometimes,” Skald said.
“Will, you need time away from me?” Freya asked, crossing her arms over her stomach.
“I won’t spend another minute away from you, if I can help it,” Skald said.
Freya smiled, as she walked over to him, before planting a kiss on his lips.
“I missed that when you were away,” Freya said.
“Thinking of you is what got me through it,” Skald said.
“Really? Freya looked at him, her lips parting slightly.
“You are always in my mind. You invaded my mind far before I met you,” Skald said, touching her cheek.
Freya
Freya felt herself grow hot under Skald’s touch, a yearning beginning to grow within her.
“How’s your back… Are you moving more easily?” Freya asked, a coy look on her face.
“My back is doing well,” Skald said, pressing his lips against hers.
“Kiss me again, I want to feel you,” Freya whispered.
He kissed her, tracing his tongue around her lips, this time with more force. He moved, down, kissing her neck, then he pulled at her dress, taking it off her body, before sitting back on his knees, looking at her as he rubbed himself through his pants. Freya couldn’t help but look and admire his length that was bulging through.
Skald went back down, kissing her stomach, before moving to the centre of her legs, tasting her wetness. She grabbed his head, feeling the thrill of vulnerability as she spread her legs, exposing her most private parts of herself to him. She struggled to keep her breath steady as she writhed under his tongue, grabbing at his hair, succumbing to the moans that escaped her lips.
She felt him moving his tongue up and down her entrance, before going back and focusing on the spot that was most sensitive; the sweet spot that felt like a point for all the pleasure her body could possibly receive.
She felt him nibble, just so lightly, causing her to buck her hips, and moan a little louder. She felt him penetrate her with his fingers. She felt his fingers rubbing her insides, causing the buildup of that familiar sensation that she had silently yearned for, every night since they had been apart. She had been afraid to ask him, for she knew he was in such pain.
“You taste so good,” he said, as he paused from running his tongue over her sensitive spot, causing that sweet feeling. He took his fingers out, running them up and down her entrance, before going back down and tasting her again. She bucked her hips again at the sensation, and lifted her legs over his shoulders, wrapping them around his head.
The buildup began to take over her body, causing her brain to turn to mush, as she let the sensation take over all of her mental reasoning. All her worries and thoughts dropped away, and suddenly all that was left in the world was Freya, Skald, and his tongue.
“Don’t… stop,” she gasped, as she felt the sensation building to a point of no return, until finally, her body shook and quivered as an explosion of ecstasy shot through her, waves of pleasure crashing through her body, radiating into a a buzz in her head, ending with a flushed face and wide eyes.
“Skald… Where did you learn that?” She asked, between breaths.
“I don’t know, I just see it and want to do it. It just comes to me,” he said, looking up at her, his lips wet from her.
“I want you inside of me,” She said, feeling dirty just saying the words. She moved forwards, pulling his pants down, and watched his shaft bounce out as it was freed from its confines.
She pushed him onto his back, and straddled him like a horse, before taking his member and placing its tip on her entrance, and sat down, enjoying the sensation of sliding down his shaft, causing another gasp to escape her lips.
“Fuck,” Skald said, his face a look of torment and pleasure.
“Is it ok?” Freya asked.
“It’s better than ok,” Skald breathed, running his hands over her breasts, squeezing her nipples, causing goosebumps to spring up on her arms.
She bounced on top of him, enjoying the feeling his member sliding deep and then shallow within her. A look came over his face, a look of determination and intent, before he put his arm around his back, and pulled her into his arms, before rolling over and standing up. She wrapped her arms around him as he began to lift her up and down, his hands on her behind, squeezing hard, with each thrust.
After several thrusts, with sweat pouring down his chest, he put her gently on the bed and lasted only two more stroked, until she felt him throbbing inside of her, the feeling of his seed being released within her filled her with a dizzy satisfaction that was rivalled by no other feeling in the world.
“You’re mine, now and forever,” Skald said, looking into her eyes.
Skald
The next morning, as Skald washed himself in the river, Ivar approached him with a serious look on his face.
“Are you aware of the Mackenzies having any allies?” Ivar asked.
“I did not hear of it. Logan Sutherland never mentioned any other clans. We’re being
pursued?” Skald asked.
“Rumours report over one thousand highlanders, which is a greater number than we have by at least one hundred,” Ivar said.
“Impossible,” Skald said, dismissing the statement.
“Nevertheless, I need you to check,” Ivar said.
“We have never seen more than three hundred highlanders, let alone over one thousand,” Skald said, waving his hand as if to brush away the claim.
