Two
Lena watched Ivar’s approach as she pushed her sopping hair away from her eyes. She ran from Ivar because the pain of thinking of him with another woman, a wife, always stole her breath away. They avoided discussing the future with a tacit understanding that there was not one between them. Their relationship would run its course, and one day a bride would arrive for Ivar. As the former companion of the future jarl, Lena stood a strong chance of finding a husband when she was ready. No man would approach her now, but once Ivar moved on, she would be a desirable mate because of her looks and her former status. It did not mean the future was not a constant thought. She recognized that they were both of an age to marry, and she had heard the rumors that Jarl Soren had already been making inquiries with neighboring clans to find his son a bride.
Their conversation that day made Lena run from Ivar in part because it felt impossible to look at him as the pain ripped through her and in part because she was certain she would be ill. She had run to avoid heaving across his boots. The bile still rose in her throat each time his declaration of love echoed in her ears. She wanted to shake her head until the sound fell out, but she knew that was impossible. Instead it left her with the memory of how her heart had soared only to crash seconds later, and the relief—then the crushing regret—of confessing her own feelings.
She knew Ivar, and she knew their conversation was not over. He would try to convince her that he controlled their fate, but she knew he had no more say in the gods’ plans than she did. Odin and Freya would decide who he should wed to maintain the power that their clan had built through bloodshed and hard work. She might be lucky if Freya remembered to look down upon her and offer her a future with another man. A man she was unable to picture and did not want.
“Lena,” Ivar slowed his pace as though he were creeping towards an injured animal, and in that moment, Lena felt wild and trapped. “Lena, wait. Don’t run from me again. We don’t need to speak of what we already said. I would enjoy your company simply because I’m relieved we both survived.”
Lena looked around as other warriors searched for the dead members of their clan. A funeral pyre was already being constructed, and in the distance, Lena saw where they would camp for the night. The day was not even halfway over, and there was plenty of work to do despite everyone’s battle exhaustion.
“Help me then. I need to look for our women who traveled without family. I must make sure they died with their swords in their hands, and if not, you can help me find them and return them.”
Ivar nodded, thinking Lena already demonstrated the duties of a frú. No one gave her those responsibilities. She assumed them, not because she presumed an elevated status as his companion, but because she was a natural leader to the other women. If only his father would acknowledge what others understood, and if only he would recognize that no one would be a greater helpmate than Lena. Inga certainly would not. She had never trained as a shieldmaiden and had no interest in doing so. Her parents pampered and spoiled her. He failed to see her journeying with him, nor could he imagine her leading a defense if their homestead was raided while he was away. He saw her cowering in fear and defeat. She would probably open the gates to the enemy to avoid being attacked. The only thing he pictured her defending was herself if any man tried to violate her. Granted, the moment she opened her mouth and her nasal tones seeped into a man’s ears, he would gladly forgo rutting with her.
“Which direction do we start?” Ivar would follow Lena’s directions and do what he could. He trusted her decisions implicitly, and he would complete any task if it kept him in Lena’s company.
They spent the next several hours working with the other members of their clan as they sifted through the fallen bodies to find their fellow Norse warriors and searched for the lost weapons. Men and women carried the bodies to the funeral pyre, laying weapons against chests with arms crossed over them. They piled the bodies of the enemy as far from the camp as possible. They would leave them to the animals or any of their enemy who returned once they left in the morning.
Ivar and Lena stood together as the pyre burned and the Norse bid farewell to the fallen. Some would venture to Valhalla and others to Fólkvangr. Those that the Valkyries selected would feast with Odin in the Great Hall, and some would find peace with Freyja in her realm. The keening sounds of women’s voices as they sang the songs of the dead filled the air as the rain continued as a drizzle. The somber and gray weather matched the crowd’s mood. Sparks flew from the fire, and some parts blazed blue where the metal from the weapons melted. Ivar’s fingers entwined with Lena’s as he squeezed her hand. She had lost three cousins in that day’s battle, and he offered his silent support as she said her goodbyes to family she had fought beside for a decade. Ivar had already lost both of his brothers the year before, and Lena drew strength from Ivar’s shared understanding of her grief. Ivar was now his parents’ only surviving child, and the future of their homestead rested on his shoulders, a duty of which his father never failed to remind him.
Lena’s trembles turned into shivers as the temperature dropped and the moon rose. Ivar was not sure if Lena would acquiesce, but she allowed him to draw her into the circle of his arms.
“Come,” he murmured near her ear.
Ivar led Lena to where he had laid their bedrolls earlier. He eased her to the ground and sought hot food for their supper. They ate in silence as Lena stared into the fire, her thoughts a jumble of grief, both for her family and for the future she would not have. Once they finished eating, Ivar took Lena’s hand again and led her into the copse of trees.
“Let me ease your mind, if only for a little while,” Ivar whispered.
Lena looked into the hazel eyes she knew so well and nodded. She longed for the escape only Ivar offered. They came of age together and were the other’s first, and thus far, only lover. Once they moved past the initial awe and wonderment of joining, their coupling had the fierce need as it did from the very beginning, but they were slower, savoring each time together. Ivar had proven to be a giving and considerate lover, and Lena had proven adventurous and caring.
As Ivar brought Lena into the shelter of his arms, he realized she was still shaken from the funeral, and worse, their conversation from the last time they stepped among the trees. He wanted to distract her from her troublesome thoughts and bring her what relief he could offer. He pressed his arousal against Lena’s mound, scared that he would rush her but unable, and unwilling, to hide his need for her. His hands slid down to her bottom and cupped the soft globes. Lena tilted her hips forwards as she tried to get closer, her need matching his. Ivar maneuvered them until Lena’s back pressed against a tree trunk. He slid his hand to cup her breast as he kneaded the supple flesh. Her mewls grew more needy as her fists clung to the front of his tunic. Ivar slid the tips of his fingers beneath the neckline of her vest until he cupped her warm skin. His own groans matching hers.
“I can’t wait, Ivar. I need you too much.” Lena’s breathy whispers sounded desperate to her own ears.
“Neither can I.” His own need filled Ivar’s voice. “I’m going to make love to you over and over tonight, Lena. I can never get my fill.”
A shiver coursed along Lena’s spine hearing Ivar’s mention of making love and her anticipation for their coupling. Her moans began as soft mewls but intensified as her body reacted to Ivar’s hands cupping her backside. The sensation of his hands kneading her flesh had her rocking her hips in a way that only instinct guided. She shifted in frustration as her body yearned for more, her sheath begging for their bodies to join. Ivar’s responding groan as her mons brushed against his rod only increased her desire.
When Lena’s cool fingers ran along his neck up to his cheek before cradling his jaw, Ivar was sure he would spend himself if he did not position them where it was possible for him to undress and sink into her. He pulled away and looked around the trees until he found a spot where leaves had gathered to soften the ground, but the overhead coverage kept the moisture from them. He took Lena’s hand and led her to the spot where they stood facing one another. He pressed her palm against his cock as his eyes drifted closed.
Lena’s impatience grew knowing that despite Ivar’s pledge, they would not have the entire night together. She pulled at the belt that held his sword and laid it on the ground as Ivar did the same to her. She tugged at the laces of his leather pants, frustrated that they would not give with her first yank. When his rod sprung free, she gasped then licked her lips, still taken by surprise at the length and girth of his rod. Ivar’s groan was one of agony as he watched a seductress emerge from his trusted shieldmaiden. Ivar lifted Lena off her feet and guided her legs to wrap around him. Her moan of unspent need as his cock pressed against her entrance had Ivar sinking to the ground.
As he pressed his length against her entrance, Lena rocked her hips in a timeless invitation. Her knees cradled his hips until she let them fall wide, and her hands sought the chiseled flesh of his backside. She marveled at how different Ivar’s body was from her own. Despite their countless times together, his impressive physique still made her heart race. She wanted to remind herself of every inch of him, but her mind stalled when Ivar’s finger slid along the swollen skin of her nether lips. A moan escaped before she stifled it, but Ivar’s responding growl reminded her that he enjoyed knowing he aroused her. As he dipped a finger into her dewy sheath, she rocked her hips again.
Ivar pressed his finger into her, and her shudder of longing and her nails biting into his back told him she was ready for more. He slid a second finger into her and began to work her heated flesh. He stretched her as he stroked her inner walls, and his thumb found the hidden pearl that would push her over the edge. She grasped his face and lifted hers to bring their mouths together. She pressed her tongue against his lips, inviting his tongue to duel with hers. They went back and forth, each giving and taking.
Lena experienced a tightening low in her belly as a wave of sensation built. When it cascaded throughout her, and she moaned her first release, Ivar withdrew his fingers and surged forward, impaling her with his length. Their bodies moved together with a familiarity born from sharing their love and bodies for four years. There was no future to think about, only the present, as they both crested and crashed over the edge. Ivar groaned as the jets of his seed filled Lena and thanked the goddess Freya once more that Lena used pennyroyal to prevent pregnancy and to allow him to climax while they were still one.
They held one another, still joined, until Ivar’s body no longer cooperated with his mind or his heart. He rolled to Lena’s side and pulled her body flush to his. She wiggled until she pressed as close to him as they had been only minutes ago, but this time for comfort rather than for release. Ivar stroked Lena’s hair, trying to relieve some of her tension, but her body was coiled tight despite the boneless sensation of only moments ago.
“I dread telling my aunt and uncle that all three of their children are but spirits now. It will devastate them.”
“You don’t have to do it alone, or I’ll go to them instead.”
Lena’s fingers ran over the warm skin of Ivar’s chest as he held her. She felt protected from the outside world, but it was not enough to ease her mind.
“I must be the one. I promised to watch over them, just as they had promised to watch over me. I failed them.”
