by D. F. Jones
Gudrun leaned into him, her body warm against his as she wrapped an arm around his waist. Smiling up at him, the adoration was evident, and Sigurd grinned back as she offered another horn of ale.
“Are you trying to get me drunk, woman?” he asked, but chuckled all the same. “This ale is strong and different from what they were serving earlier.”
“They opened a new barrel,” Gudrun replied. “The man who offered it said that it was made only for fearless men such as yourself.”
Sigurd looked across the room and saw a wizened man watching him. Cloaked in shadows, he appeared to bear only one eye, and he shivered as he thought of the All-Father. Of course, the gods would be present today, he reasoned. After all, he had defeated a dragon.
With a lull in the conversation, a skald took the opportunity to expand on the story, making it even more fanciful than Sigurd had.
Not really listening, Sigurd continued to oversee the busy hall. Many people had come to hear of his heroic tale. Over time, his fame would grow. Men would cheer and congratulate him on the heroic feat. Boys would look up to him, hoping to be as fearless as Sigurd the dragon slayer when they grew up.
A flash of the Valkyrie passed before his eyes. Maybe he would be worthy of her now.
A woman winked at him from across the room as Gudrun’s hand snaked over his thigh, and he was heady with all of the attention.
“...But what is fame without love?” the skald asked, and Sigurd tuned into the story once more.
“Love is everything,” Sigurd replied, tipping his drinking horn to the man. “It is the reason we fight, even if we have not yet found our own woman to treasure.”
There were cheers from across the room at his words but the skald was not done yet.
“And who would be worthy of Sigurd’s love? After all, only a very special woman would be suited to a man who has slain a dragon.”
Sigurd shrugged, a little annoyed that the man was pointing out just how high he should be aiming tonight when all he really wanted was a warm body. Gudrun wrapped another arm around his stomach as he spoke, and he sensed her desperation in the action.
“Perhaps I already know of such a woman?” the skald continued.
Sigurd frowned, not sure of what was meant. He felt Gudrun stiffen by his side.
“Who is this woman you speak of?”
“Her name is Brunhild and she is a Valkyrie, or she was until Odin doomed her to endless sleep.”
His interest piqued with the mention of Odin’s famed Valkyries. Looking around, he could see that everyone in the room was captivated by the words, enraptured as they imagined an impossible romance. Yet, he could no longer see the man who bore a resemblance to the All-Father.
“Well, why talk of her if she is under an enchantment?” Sigurd asked. “I like my women to be lively—or, at least, awake.”
That garnered some chuckles from the crowd, but it did not deter the skald. Jumping onto a bench, the man smiled down at Sigurd.
“This woman, who sleeps within a ring of fire in a hall atop the mountain of Hindarfell, can be woken by a kiss. However, before Brunhild fell, she countered with a curse of her own. Now, only a man without fear will be capable of bestowing this upon her and save her from her slumber.”
Sigurd leaned on his sword as he made the final trek to the top of the mountain. He was not even sure why he was doing this, since he had other tasks at hand. Prior to Regin’s request, he had put off a meeting with the King of Burgundy, and the ruler would now be well overdue in expecting him. Yet, here he was, climbing a mountain on another wayward mission.
The skald might have been telling a tale as tall as the mountain he now scaled. However, in his mind’s eye, he saw the Valkyrie he had witnessed on the battleground and hoped that it was the same woman.
Gudrun would likely be awake now and aware that she had been left behind. They had shared a night of passion. Although, most of it was a blur to Sigurd. The ale had been strong, and she continued to fill his cup until he could no longer see straight. His head still ached with its effects.
He felt bad for taking what he wanted from Gudrun and not hanging around afterward. However, the skald’s story had gotten under his skin. It was the first thing Sigurd thought of as he awoke and hadn’t been able to shift the notion that Brunhild was the Valkyrie that had left him behind. He was still unsure he was making this trek because her beauty was undeniable or because he wanted to confront her for not allowing his entrance into Valhalla.
Gritting his teeth, he pulled his sword free from the hard-packed earth and hefted it over his head. Swinging it down, he burrowed it into the top of the mountain and lunged over the edge.
The wind buffeted him. Sagging for only a moment, Sigurd pulled himself up, finally standing on even ground. He sheathed Gram before scanning the horizon.
The view was spectacular. He was higher than he had ever been before in his life, and Midgard stretched out so far below him that he felt as though he had already crossed the bridge into Asgard.
However, it was the hall across the clearing that interested him the most. It was here that the skald’s story would be proved—or not.
Sigurd felt renewed as he set his sights on the ring of fire that glittered dangerously in the sunlight. Putting his hand over his eyes to protect against the glare, he now knew that there was no way that the skald could have been lying.
He took a deep breath, trying hard not to think about what he was about to do. Closing his eyes briefly, the vision of the Valkyrie appeared, and he let out a steady breath. It was all that Sigurd needed to rush forward, to ignore the sizzling of red-hot flames and dive straight through the barrier and beyond.
A sea of red for a single moment. The eerie sensation of a muted world among the flames and then he was through to the other side. He staggered a moment, and fear crept up briefly at the notion that he could have been burned alive.
The flames licked out at him in response, ready to devour him, feeding off his emotion. However, Sigurd had seen the proof of what seemed impossible, and his fear did not grow as it should. Instead, he shooed his hands towards the flames and laughed.
In front of him stood the hall of which the skald had spoken. Stepping forward, he ran his hand over the fine carvings in the wood. The roar of the flames disappeared as soon as he stepped through the doorway, and silence covered him.
He could see a woman in the center of the room. Settled into a bed, furs were gathered around her. Blond hair cascaded over the edge of the sleeping platform, and it was the same sunlit color of the Valkyrie that he remembered.
Her face was covered by a helmet, so he was still unsure it was her. Creeping forward, the anticipation of gazing down on her perfect form washed over him. As Sigurd reached the bed, he noticed the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the only indication that she was still alive.
The movement was slight, heavy armor constricting her, as though causing the impossible slumber. Sigurd loosened the ties, being quick but careful as he did so. As they were worked free, her breathing deepened.
His fingers struggled to unlace everything, finally managing to wriggle his hands underneath the heavy outerwear. Pulling it upwards, he freed the woman, and she sighed deeply.
Sigurd froze with the motion, waiting for her response. After the initial inhalation, she settled back into her gentle breathing and continued to sleep.
He remembered what the skald had said. She had to be released from her slumber with a kiss.
Placing one hand under her head so that he could work her helmet off, his fingers tangled in her hair, and he hoped that he caused her no pain. As he removed the item, he caught sight of her beautiful face.
It was the same woman.
He dropped the headgear. It hit the ground with a solid thunk before rolling to one side and settling away from the bed. Sigurd barely noticed the noise as he waited for a response from Brunhild but there was none.
“Perfection,” Sigurd whispered as he gazed upon her, h
is ire at not being selected for Valhalla bleeding away as he did so.
Taking her hand, he swallowed hard. Desperately, he wanted to taste her perfectly formed lips, but he did not want to steal a kiss if she didn’t want him. After all, she had not selected him in battle.
He wrestled with his warring thoughts. This beautiful woman stirred intense feelings in him that had never occurred with Gudrun even though they were expected to marry at some point.
“I apologize,” Sigurd said, leaning in once more.
The scent of her was intoxicating, drawing him in and giving her consent with an alluring aroma. Her lips were soft, warm, plump. He sighed into them, and their kiss had only just begun when he felt her stirring.
Jumping back, Sigurd allowed the woman to wake and gather her bearings. She blinked, her hands fisting up at her sides before she raised one to rub at her face. Blinking again, she sat up and looked at him.
“I know you.”
“Yes, we met on the battlefield a long time ago.” Sigurd drew back a breath, surprised that she remembered him. “You left me behind.”
“I didn’t want you to die, you had so much life in you still,” Brunhild said, stretching out her long limbs. “How long have I been in this cursed sleep?”
“I do not know,” he replied. “I have only recently heard of your fate.”
“I knew that you would come.”
Sigurd frowned. “How could you?”
“Before Odin cursed me, I thought of you. I told him that I would never marry anyone unless they were free of fear. It was an impossible wish, but the Nords granted it, and now it has worked its way through Odin’s curse and set me free.”
“But I have only just met you, how can we talk of marriage already?” He tried not to smile at how happy the proposal made him feel.
“And you woke me from an impossible sleep, breaking a curse set down by the mightiest god of all, how is any of this possible? Why should marriage be out of the question in this situation?”
He nodded. Also, he knew, deep within his bones, that this woman was his and he was hers. There was no need to delay anything. As soon as the thought came to him, it settled over him like a soft fur, ready to warm him in the coldest of winters.
He tried not to think of the woman he had left behind, the one that loved him and who he could never love in return.
Reaching into his cloak, he fumbled for the bag that contained the rings he had obtained from Fafnir. Pulling it free, he opened it and Brunhild leaned over him as he did so. Her hair fanned out and settled on his thigh.
“I have slain a dragon while you slept. Surrounding it was many of these golden rings. Select one and it is yours to keep, binding you to me as much as mine will bind me to you.”
Shaking the bag, Sigurd reached in and felt around until a ring slipped easily onto his finger. He held up his hand for Brunhild to see. The ring was plain, one he would never have chosen for himself. However, somehow it was perfect.
Brunhild smiled at him as she reached into the pouch. She swirled her fingers through the collection before pulling out a matching ring. The slim gold band glowed as she placed it against his.
“We are bound before the Nords,” Brunhild said quietly, and the rings glowed brightly in unison before returning to their normal state. “And so we are betrothed.”
Chapter 5
Brunhild
She looked at the ring as it glowed on her finger. Wisps of the sleeping draught still lingered, and she wasn’t entirely sure of what had just happened. Although, as she gazed at Sigurd, she knew that whatever it was, it was the right thing.
Brunhild tried not to think of Odin’s wrath, or of what would happen once she left this hall. Did the god already know she had awoken? Was he determining how to punish her further? Or was he finding someone in which to marry her off? Even with her counter-curse, she knew that Odin would likely find a workaround. After all, he never liked it when a lesser being got the better of him.
But then Sigurd was leaning in and kissing her, and the air rushed from her lungs as his lips connected with hers, and she felt a jolt of power between them. Reaching up, her fingers grazed his cheek, scraping over the wire of his beard and tangling in his hair.
The Nords had sanctioned this, she realized as their embrace deepened. To Hel with Odin.
Drawing him forward, Brunhild moaned as their kiss heated up, igniting her skin. She had been with men—mortal and otherwise—and this sensation was like nothing else she had ever experienced before.
Sighing as Sigurd pulled back, she leaned her forehead against his and let hot tears escape. They cooled as they ran down her cheeks, and Sigurd thumbed them away as soon as he felt them against his hand.
“It is all right,” he whispered.
Sigurd kissed her wet cheek, her forehead, her hair. Brunhild felt sheltered with his arms wrapped around her, cocooned from the world. At this moment, Odin could not hurt her.
“I fear for what the All-Father will do once he finds out that the enchantment is broken,” Brunhild whispered. “He wanted to marry me off because I allowed Agnarr to win against Hjalmgunnar. I am sure that he will not let it settle.”
“There is time aplenty to worry about that later,” Sigurd said. “I do not fear Odin. Let him come for me.”
Brunhild smiled at his courage even though she knew that was not how it worked. Even if the Nords wanted it, Odin would find another way in which to enact his punishment.
The god knew already that she would only be freed by someone who was fearless. It was a weapon she had given to Odin, and he would likely be prepared long before now.
Leaning into Sigurd, she sighed as he brushed his fingers through her hair. She had never felt such bliss before.
“Make me forget about the gods, then,” she said.
Sigurd kissed her once more. It was not hard to be lost in it, and very soon she no longer thought of the All-Father but of Sigurd’s hands as they roamed over her body.
Oh, how Sigurd made her forget.
As Brunhild opened her eyes, it all came back to her. She blushed as she thought of the night before, of the passion they shared.
“You are awake, my sleeping beauty,” Sigurd said, and she turned her head, focusing on the man who had awoken her in so many different ways.
Reaching up, she cupped his chin. The grizzle of his beaded beard scratched against her fingers. Their lips met again and flashes of the night before presented in her mind’s eye.
What a way to be awoken from slumber, she thought.
Sigurd’s fingers ran down her bare shoulder, exposed now as she sat up to embrace him. Brunhild trembled with the sensation.
“I am so looking forward to the rest of our lives,” she sighed into their kiss, and she felt Sigurd stiffen. “What is it?”
Already, she was pulling away as she snapped her gaze at him.
This was how Odin would win, and she had no idea where the thought came from, only that it was true.
“I have an errand that I can no longer get out of,” Sigurd said. His gaze darted away from her, and she reached out. Taking hold of his chin, she forced his look back towards her. “Once I am done, I can return and we can be married. Then our life together can truly begin.”
Chapter 6
Sigurd
Sigurd’s steps were heavy as he left the mountain far behind. Leaving Brunhild was the hardest thing he had ever done. In such a small amount of time, he had fallen hard for the Valkyrie, and he was surprised at just how easy it was to love her.
“Sigurd!”
He looked up at the sound of his name and saw Gudrun rushing towards him. His heart sank. Sigurd had hoped not to deal with this yet—or ever.
“Where have you been?”
“I am only passing through, on my way to the court of Gjuki, the King of Burgundy,” Sigurd said, avoiding the question.
“What a surprise, then,” she replied. “I am also heading in that direction. We can be traveling companions.”
“I am in a hurry and will be setting quite a speed,” Sigurd said. If she was happy to ignore his bad behavior, then so was he.
“Do you think that I cannot keep up?”
“Of course not, but I do not want you to think that this is a casual adventure.”
Even without the advent of his new betrothal, the thought of venturing forth with this woman left a bad taste in his mouth. Gudrun ignored his sudden departure from her bed, and that somehow seemed wrong. She should be yelling at him, telling him that she never wanted to see him again after leaving her behind. It was what he deserved, and it was what would make things easier for him.
“Isn’t this exciting?” Gudrun said after several hours on the road. “Just the two of us, I think the gods have put us together.”
Sigurd shivered at the words as it suddenly made sense. Was this Odin’s doing? Thinking back to what Brunhild had said at his departure, he wondered at just how much the All-Father already knew. He sighed. Odin was the father of them all. Of course, he knew.
“I am betrothed,” Sigurd said in a rush of words, and Gudrun froze.
“And when did this happen?” she asked, turning towards him. “Before or after you bedded me?”
They were so close that Sigurd could feel her warm breath against his skin. Now that she had finally brought up their night together, Sigurd felt even more uneasy.
“Things change quickly when you meet the woman that you are meant to be with.”
Sigurd didn’t really want to hurt Gudrun, but their relationship—or lack of it—needed to be addressed, and since she did not seem to understand subtlety, it was time to be blunt in the matter.
“How could you possibly know that you love someone in such a short amount of time?” Gudrun scoffed.
“Oh, it is very easy, trust me.”
There was silence after that as they walked.