The Viking Hero's Wife

by Catherine DeVore

  Edda was pleased to see that she could be as patient and skillful as Valgard. As her lips and tongue ravished the velvet surface of his cock, his fingers gripped the coarse blanket, clenching hard. Valgard’s groans and little cries of pleasure made Edda’s slit hotter than a forge as she squeezed her thighs together, determined to ignore her own pleasure for as long as possible.

  Edda could taste Valgard’s fluids spreading across her tongue as his shaft twitched with pleasure between her lips. She eased back, not wanting Valgard to climax until he was inside her.

  “Oh, sweet Freya’s tits,” he groaned as his shaft slipped from her mouth. Panting lightly with arousal, Edda positioned her dripping slit over the swollen red head of his cock.

  “You will promise to return to me,” she commanded, her slick lips grazing over Valgard’s sensitive skin.

  “I swear it,” he gasped, his hands clutching desperately at her hips. “No matter what, I will see you again.”

  “Swear by the gods,” Edda gasped, sliding the very tip of him into herself.

  “I swear by Loki and Thor, by Freya, by Odin’s lost eye itself that if it takes every last ounce of will I have, I will return to you once again,” Valgard groaned. “If I am on my very deathbed, I will cling to life to see you one last time.”

  Satisfied, Edda impaled herself fully on Valgard’s cock in one swift motion. They cried out simultaneously as their bodies joined. Their rhythms matched perfectly as they began to thrust together. Valgard’s hands reached to cup Edda’s firm buttocks as his shaft plunged into her with the force of a stallion.

  “What do you require of me, my lady?” he asked breathlessly, his question punctuated by the sharp slapping sounds of their skin meeting.

  “First, you will bring me to climax,” Edda groaned, bracing her palms against the firm planes of his chest. “And then you will fill me up.”

  “As you wish.” In one swift motion, Valgard flipped Edda onto her back, hoisting her legs up over his shoulders. “Now you are at my mercy!”

  She nearly screamed with pleasure as he drove into her anew, his thick shaft ramming into her from an even more exquisite angle. Reaching down between her legs, Edda stroked her own clitoris desperately as heat built up deep within.

  “Faster,” she urged, head thrown back in ecstasy. “Please!”

  Her climax struck her like Thor’s lightning. Edda screamed Valgard’s name as her entire world exploded into pleasure. Her eardrums bulged with the force—Edda briefly, deliriously, thought that her orgasm had raised the very waves themselves. Through the field of stars that bloomed across her vision, Edda heard Valgard cry out in response, his cock spurting hot, thick ropes of fluid into her as her channel clenched convulsively around her.

  “Gods above,” Valgard said, his voice almost reverent, as he shook all over. “Woman, it’s a wonder I can be torn from your side at all.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t,” Edda said softly, trying to savor the feeling of his warmth deep within her. She laid her head on his chest so he wouldn’t see the tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

  “I know, my love,” he murmured. “I know.”

  Edda meant to stay awake, to remember every last breath Valgard took and hold it close, but before she knew it, sleep stole over her like a thief.

  ####

  The next morning, Edda watched the Odinsvolk sail away at the head of the fleet, a blackness over her heart. Although Valgard had journeyed on many, many similar campaigns in the years they’d been together, Edda had a feeling that this was different. Despite his promise, deep in her heart, she feared she would never see Valgard again.

  Edda’s lonely nights were filled with dark dreams of blood and thunder. She went through the motions of each day with her eyes always on the shore, always watching for the prow of the Odinsvolk. Although she feared the worst, Edda could not let go of the hope that Valgard would return to her safely. Each night, she and the other lonely wives shared dinner together, telling only tales of bravery. Whenever spirits flagged, Edda herself sprang up with another story about how Harald had captured a runaway chicken or how Knut had wrestled a wild bear even when his arm was broken. It was hard, pretending to be in good spirits, but Edda could see that somebody had to keep the village together. It bolstered her spirit to know that Valgard would be proud of her strength.

  ####

  Edda was hauling water from the well when the cry went up that the ships were returning. Her bucket dropped from nerveless fingers; Edda was well up the path by the time it hit the ground. Her heart, frozen in her throat, sank when she saw the wolf’s head prow rising over the trees, black with char. “No!” she cried, her feet fairly flying down the path.

  Her fear was realized when she saw Thialfi and several others lifting Valgard down the plank on a crude stretcher. “My husband!” she cried, horrified to see the deep red stain on the side of his tunic. “Quickly, we must tend to your wounds.”

  “Take him to my home,” Thialfi ordered. “It’s much closer.”

  “Edda,” Valgard whispered, his voice a hoarse ghost of its normal strength. “My love. I am so happy to see you before...”

  “Don’t you say it,” she scolded, her voice shaking. Valgard just smiled wearily at her from an ashen gray face that she barely recognized as his. Thialfi and the men laid him gently near the cold fireplace. Thialfi chased the other men out. “I must report to Jonakr,” he said to Edda. “Care for him.”

  Edda barely heard him as he left. Kneeling next to Valgard, Edda slowly peeled away the crusted tunic. As soon as the fabric was clear, she knew that Valgard was going to die. The wound was black with both burns and decay. With a little cry, she flung herself onto Valgard’s chest. His skin was feverishly hot to the touch.

  “Something wasn’t right,” Valgard said hoarsely. “When we arrived the whole village was dead already. The sorcerers knew we were coming. It was an ambush.”

  “Do you think Jonakr knew?” Edda asked, horrified. “Could his grudge extend so far?”

  “I don’t know, but somebody told them,” he said, his eyes closing with the effort of speaking. “Be careful, my love. I am so, so sorry I must leave you.”

  Edda wept silently, holding his hand in hers, until Thialfi sprang back in.

  “Valgard, my friend,” he cried, dropping to his knees. “Jonakr has declared that you are a hero of legend.”

  “How thoughtful,” the wounded man said wryly.

  “You don’t understand,” Thialfi said desperately. “When you have passed, he means to throw Edda onto your pyre.”

  Valgard, in spite his great weakness, sat bolt-upright. “No!” In his rage, his voice was strong as it had ever been. “I will not have this.” He thought for a long moment. “Thialfi, fetch me the priest from Odin’s sanctuary.”

  “What are you doing?” Edda asked nervously supporting his back.

  “I must disown you in my last minutes,” Valgard replied grimly, a harsh cough punctuating his words. “I will not drag you to my grave!”

  “My husband!” Edda cried, leaping to her feet. “I would sooner burn than be severed from you. You are my savior, and my love. I cannot do this!”

  “You must!” he roared. “This is all that I ask of you before I die. Leave me, and wed Thialfi in my place. He will protect your honor and care for you as I have. He has sworn this to me.”

  “I won’t! I could never love another,” Edda wept. “Please, Valgard, don’t leave me!”

  “I must,” he said wearily, the strength run out of him again. “You are all that I truly care for in this world, Edda. Let me go to my death knowing you are safe under the protection of my truest friend. Jonakr is moving against me, and I fear for you already. Please, do this for me.” He paused, then took her face gently in his hand. “And please, try and love him, if you can. Thialfi is the brother of my soul, and I would not ask if I did not think you could. Do not live your life alone, my love, not when such a fire burns in you. Promise you will grieve me,
and then give him at least a chance to win your heart.”

  Edda nodded slowly, weeping wordlessly against Valgard’s chest. She scarcely noticed when Thialfi and the tiny, wizened priest who went by no name entered the house.

  “It is with a heavy heart that I do this,” the priest said solemnly. “But if all is as Thialfi says, I will perform this ceremony in honor of your great deeds, Valgard.”

  Edda squeezed her eyes shut as the priest declared her and her beloved severed for all time, and re-wed her to Thialfi. Her shoulders shook as Thialfi gently held her limp hand during the vows.

  When it was done, Edda dropped to her knees beside Valgard. His breath came shallow and his skin was pale as milk. “I will wait for you in the afterlife, my love,” he breathed, his voice a mere whisper. “Be safe. Be loved. Be happy without me, knowing we will meet again.” Valgard closed his eyes for the final time, content in the knowledge that his love was safe.

  Dashing the tears from her eyes, Edda crossed his arms over his chest and covered the dreadful wound that had slain him. “Thialfi,” Edda said, her voice grim. “Husband.”

  “Yes,” he said, moving to her side.

  “I am sorry you must wed me, for I do not know that I can love another, no matter what I said to Valgard. And yet, I must ask you a favor.”

  “Name it, and I shall do all in my power to see it through,” Thialfi promised.

  “I would know the truth of Jonakr’s allegiance,” Edda said, steel-eyed with resolve. “And if he is responsible for the death of Valgard Thorson, I would see him brought to justice.”

  “My wife, I swear in Odin’s name that together, we will see Valgard’s killer stricken tenfold with the pain he has suffered,” Thialfi swore. “But this I also swear: I will not force you, and I will not push you, but when we have mourned Valgard, I will do my best to win your heart.”

  “Witnessed,” the priest said gravely, head bowed. “And best of luck to you both.”

  As Edda and Thialfi stood next to each other, close, but not touching, Edda made a secret promise to herself, too. Whichever direction her new marriage to Thialfi took, Edda would not consider him her husband until Valgard’s death was avenged and his soul could truly rest. Then, and only then, would she consider herself free to love again.

  ####

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