With frantic fingers, she lifted the hem of his blue tunic, which he removed and tossed onto hisBlárúlfrcloak, laid atop the wooden table. He quickly shed the rest of his clothing, standing hisÚlfblóðrsword against the wall next to hers.
She unplaited her golden braids, the long locks tumbling like a sunlit cascade to her slim waist. When she stood nude in the moonlight, the soft wind from the fjord stirring her blonde hair, her ethereal beauty stole his breath, scattered his thoughts, and struck him blind.
He swept her into his arms, settling her upon the soft furs. “At dawn, you shall ride into the sky, and I shall sail across the sea…yet we shall always be together—bound in body, breath, and blood.”
Sigurd worshipped his beloved Brynhildr with reverent fingers, lips, and tongue.
He sampled the sweet skin on her neck and suckled each pink nipple, her whimpers of want driving him wild. When he tasted the tender flesh between her sleek thighs, the irresistible blend of salt and sweet—like golden mead and the glorious sea—was more than he could bear.
He parted her legs with his knees. Positioned himself between her lithe thighs. Sliding his rough hands beneath her soft hips, he plunged into paradise.
She wrapped her limbs around him, pulling him deeper inside.
He pumped her warm depths, the thunderous wave cresting quickly. When she shuddered in release beneath him, crying out his name in sweet surrender, Sigurd poured himself into Brynhildr.
Seed,seiðr,and soul.
In the moonglow and starlight, amidst the floral scent of roses and the briny tang of the fjord, they lay entangled together all night in the soft furs of the sleigh-shaped bed.
Theouroborosabove their hearts blazed with golden fire.
When the deep violet night sky faded to mauve in the early light of dawn, Sigurd dressed in solemn silence.
And left his broken Sea Wolf heart with his beloved Valkyrie.
Chapter 12
Fólkvangr
The salty wind over theVesthaf—the wild open sea west of Hrafnfjall—whipped her long blonde hair and the gold-tipped white wings of her Valkyrie swan cloak as Brynhildr rode Himingdrápathrough the clouds beside Freyja. Hermóðirdid not ride a winged horse, but rather flew, the luminous feathers of her falcon cloak spread wide like otherworldly wings.
As they soared through the mauve-streaked dawn sky, the endless sea rushed beneath them, reflecting the rising sun like a vast mirror of molten gold. Clouds drifted like ethereal wisps across the azure sky, and Freyja’s words floated into Brynhildr’s mind like the whispering wind.
Fólkvangr lies in the distant realm where the sky meets the sea.
Himingdrápa lifted her higher, wings stretching toward the luminous heart of the golden clouds. The briny breeze over the sea grew warmer, mingling with the fresh tang of the fjord and the heady scent of blossoms, rich forests, and fertile loam. When they broke through the cloudveil, a green and golden realm stretched before them, bathed in the amber glow of the summer sun.
Mist curled toward glistening cliffs above the sparkling fjord like ribbons of silver. In the distance, purple mountains rose into clear blue skies, waterfalls cascading from their peaks into crystalline lakes and springs. Dense forests bordered meadowsstrewn with wild pink roses and violet heather, and beyond the fjord lay the vast, open sea.
“Welcome toFólkvangr.” Freyja’s velvety voice was warm and mellow like mead as Himingdrápa landed gracefully in the sunlit meadow. “The horses are free to graze wherever they wish. Your Valkyrie sisters will teach you how to care for yours, for each tends her own horse.”
Brynhildr slid from her mount’s majestic back, reverent fingers brushing the damp feathers of his ivory wings. She lowered her small trunk, which she had clutched in her lap, to the grassy ground, and Himingdrápa joined two other winged horses who were nibbling clover blossoms near the edge of the cliff overlooking the glistening fjord. Tails flicking and wings fluttering, they nickered softly in welcome.
Atop the high cliff, an immense fortress rose like sunlight captured in sparkling stone. The outer walls glimmered with gems of amber, golden hues radiant in the brilliant light. The peaked roof was sheer crystal, reflecting the sun by day and, Brynhildr imagined, revealing the moon and stars by night.
“This isSessrúmnir,the Amber Hall where I reside,” Freyja explained, gesturing toward the golden fortress. “It is where we share meals, magic, and mead. Where I shall teach you to wieldseiðr, interpret runes and battle strategies, foresee fates… and above all, select the slain.”
Violet-tipped feathers of her falcon cloak stirred in the soft breeze as the goddess swept a majestic arm across the flowering meadows and sunlit fjord. “My Valkyries choose those with fiercely loyal hearts who die for love and bring them here toFólkvangr—to dwell for eternity in peace, paradise, and plenty.”
Freyja’s amber eyes glowed like the golden walls ofSessrúmniras they held Brynhildr’s rapt gaze. “But brutal warriors with hearts of rage, who die for glory with bloodlust on their screaming lips… they are taken to Valhalla. Odin wantsonly the fiercest warriors for hiseinherjar… in his endless preparation for Ragnarök.”
She brushed a golden lock from Brynhildr’s face and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “At long last, you have joined me,dóttir min. I am glad to finally have you among my Valkyries.” Maternal pride and fierce love flared in hermóðir’samber eyes. “There must always be nine Valkyries,” Freyja explained, “who work together, in triads of three. Though they are immortal— immune to aging and illness—Valkyries may be slain in the human realm by a god, aDökkálfarDark Elf, ajötunn, or a troll. Hlökk fell to a frost giant—one of the deadlyHrímthursar—while defending a mortal champion in Midgard.” Freyja sighed softly, her lips forming a sorrowful smile. “Her soul is here with us inFólkvangrnow… and you have been chosen to take her place.”
Freyja bent to grasp a handle of the wooden trunk which Brynhildr had brought from her private tower in Hrafnfjall. “Come…I’ll take you to your cottage. And introduce you to Kára and Skögul, the other two members of yourLaguzTriad. Kára will take you to meet the falcons—our messengers to the mortal realm—and Skögul will show you the Mirrored Sea, where you shall learn to foresee fate… and select the slain throughseiðr.”
Behind the glittering walls ofSessrúmnirstood a trio of small cottages overlooking the sea. The amber veins in their smooth stone walls glowed golden in the summer sun. Beneath the cottages, the cliff curved around a sheltered, circular inlet with crystalline waters of deep, clear blue. “That is the Mirrored Sea,” Freyja whispered, sending a shiver ofseiðrthrough Brynhildr. “Where I watched you grow, from beloved babe to skilled shieldmaiden. And where you may see yourfaðir…and the Sea Wolf to whom your soul is bound.”
Of course she knows I am soulbound to Sigurd. As the Goddess of Seiðr, she must have seen the ouroboros…theblood oath we swore in starlight…and the Nightwolf’s triple bindrune, connecting our souls, the ship, and the sea.
