Mastered By the Viking King by Lily Harlem

Chapter 14

Two days later, Tove stood with Knud, Frode, and Wanda as the new longboat was loaded for the journey.

Snow was falling, the air icy, her breath fogging in front of her face.

Caskets of pickled nuts and fish were passed along the pier, as well as water and mead in barrels. Wicker baskets of squawking chickens, blankets, spare oars, furs, and weapons were added to the boat’s supplies.

Tove’s heart was heavy as she stared out at the fjord. Even here in the shelter of the mountains the waves were choppy, white spray catching on their curls and spinning upward. She was sure the waters would be even more treacherous in open sea, the dark depths heaving and rolling, the boat tossed about as if the gods themselves were playing with it.

Njal barked orders to his warriors, his dark hair peppered with snow.

It was an uncomfortable, breath-shortening sensation. What if something happened to her husband? How would she live? She loved him. He’d quickly become her everything. She couldn’t imagine a life without him at her side—and in her bed.

After the flogging, her crime hadn’t been mentioned again. Her bottom still pained if she sat on something hard. She’d be sure to avoid the flogger in the future; it was mean, and Njal had been an expert at wielding it.

He heaved a barrel onto his shoulder and passed it over the water to Leif.

Halfdan ran up to him with a basket of daggers, which Njal nodded at. They were also passed to Leif.

“Wait! Do not leave without me, Leif, brother of King Njal.” A shield maiden, tall and strong, stomped up the pier. She held a heavy iron sword decorated with a gemstone at the hilt, and a shield in blue and yellow. Her legs were long and muscular beneath her dark pants, and her tunic was made of fine leather decorated with iron studs.

“Bodil.” Leif stopped what he was doing and straightened. “You are here!”

“In the past you have left me behind on raids. I will not be left behind again.” She stood, feet hip width apart, and pointed her sword at him. “If you even think about leaving me here, I will take off your cock in the dead of the night and make you eat it—every last bit. Then you can suck on your detached balls before I replace your eyes with them.”

Njal laughed, his shoulders shaking with it.

Leif frowned and rubbed his brow.

“So, I am coming with you,” Bodil said firmly. “Whether you like it or not.”

“But…” Leif held up his palms and shrugged in Njal’s direction. “It is the king’s decision. It is his boat, his raid.”

“No, brother. It is your choice,” Njal said. “But if you do not want to discover the taste of your cock and balls, then I would invite her aboard.”

Bodil jumped onto the longboat, landing lightly. She stuck her face close to Leif’s. “Unlike most maidens, Leif, I have no interest in doing anything with your cock other than slicing it off.”

“Is that so?” Leif asked, raising one eyebrow. “Because in the past when—”

“That was the past.” With a loud clatter, she dropped her weapon and shield to the deck. “Where shall I oar?”

Njal turned with an amused smile on his face.

His grin faded when his attention settled on Tove. He strode to her, his cloak flapping open, the man seemingly unaffected by the frigid temperature.

“My love.” He cupped her cheek. “Do not look so fearful.”

“How can I not?” She stared into his eyes. “You’re my king, and my husband, and you are sailing into the jaws of the great ocean.”

“I am also a fine voyager, and I have a strong longboat and brave warriors. All will be well. And if it is not, it is what the gods have planned. It will be my destiny, and I will see you in the next world.”

She pressed her hand over his and shook her head. “I want you in this one for a while longer.”

“I will be.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Look after our sons, and when I return, we will have more sons of our own.”

“I want that.”

Knud slipped his hand into hers. Tove squeezed it. “But I will love them all the same. I will love every one of our sons and daughters with all of my heart—the way I love you.”

“As I love you. You are in every drop of my blood, and every beat of my Viking heart. I would be a fool in this world without you.”

“Oh, Njal!” She leaned into him. “Do you have to go?”

“I have to have vengeance on those who killed our people in cold blood. What kind of king would I be if I did not?”

“You are a good king, a great king.”

“And you are a great queen. The people of Halsgrof are lucky to have you.” He caught her in a hug, his mouth pressing down on hers.

She kissed him hard, his beard abrading her chin. She tried to let him know with her lips, her tongue, just how much she adored and loved him, and that he had to come back safe. She couldn’t exist without him.

“King Njal, the longboat is ready.”

He pulled back and sighed. His eyes flashed with emotion. “It is time to leave. We must catch the tide.”

“May the gods go with you and protect you.”

“I feel them here.” He banged his chest with his fist. “Odin and Thor are ready to battle the ocean with me. And then they will battle King Egbert with me. We will be victorious in our vengeance.”

“Brother!” Leif shouted, his arm looped around the central mast. “Do not let us leave without you!”

Njal growled. He released Tove then stooped and pressed a kiss to Knud’s head. “Look after the queen and your brother.”

“Aye, Father.” Knud nodded seriously. “I will.”

“Good boy.” He turned, and with his wide shoulders swinging, walked along the pier and leaped onto the longboat beside Leif.

Tove held in a sob. She couldn’t be upset, not in front of Knud. She had to stay strong for him and little Frode.

Wanda stood close and slipped her arm around Tove’s waist. “He is a great voyager and warrior. Do not fear.”

“Aye, but has he sailed west in wintertime before?”

Wanda was quiet.

The ropes holding the longboat to the pier were released.

“I thought not,” Tove said with a bitter sigh.

The boat was pushed out, the oars making their first strike in the water.

A huge cheer went up, the townsfolk whooping and clapping, stamping their feet.

As the boat made its way into the fjord’s rolling waters, the horn sounded from the shore, long, echoing wails that reminded Tove of wolf howls.

She shivered, watching her husband’s outline as the longboat rose and fell with the wind-driven swells… This couldn’t be the last time she saw him. Surely, the gods wouldn’t be so cruel. They’d only just found each other. She needed a whole lifetime with him, not just weeks.

The boat became a speck, then slipped from view around the headland.

“Mama, I’m hungry,” Knud said.

“Are you? After all that bread?”

“Aye, my tummy hurts I’m so hungry.”

“Maybe your tummy hurts because you are sad to see your father leave?”

“No.” He shook his head a little too rapidly. “I am brave. I am not sad.”

“You are brave.” She stroked his chin. “But if you need to be sad, that’s all right. When someone you love goes away it is hard, even if you are learning to be a Viking warrior.”

He swallowed and turned from the fjord.

“Let’s go into the warmth,” Tove said, wrapping her fingers tighter around his. “After the bread, maybe you can play with your new longboat.”

“Aye.” His face brightened. “In the lake?”

“I think the lake is iced over.”

“But can we go and look?” His gaze connected with hers.

She couldn’t deny him. Not when his father had just left, and it wasn’t long since his real mother had been taken from him. “Aye, we’ll go and look. I would like that, too.”

* * *

“Pull! Pull! Pull!” Njal roared from the aft of the longboat.

His warriors did his bidding, their strong arms battling against the looming swells and gusting wind.

They’d breached the entrance of the fjord, the mountains and forests of home receding into the mist.

Beyond was open sea—days of open sea.

“The storm is only just waking,” Leif shouted. Salty spray peppered his beard and his eyes flashed as a sheet of lightning filled the sky.

“And soon it will sleep,” Njal replied, heaving on his own oar.

“It will sleep on command of Thor,” Leif said. “I hope he gives that command soon.”

The boat lurched. Two Vikings roared as they struggled to keep hold of their oars. A roll of blankets flew into the air and disappeared.

“In the name of the All Father,” Njal muttered, widening his legs to keep his balance on the bench.

“We battled like this for days,” Leif said, his attention caught by another even larger wave heading their way. “We knew we had angered the sea gods, but how, I don’t know.”

“Did you make a sacrifice?”

“We had little to offer but our final chicken was slit at the throat.”

“If it’s all you had, what else could you do?” Njal gritted his teeth and gripped his oar tighter. The longboat pitched almost horizontal as it took on the next swell.

He’d told his beautiful wife that if it was his time to journey to Valhalla, then so be it. But in truth he didn’t want to leave her.

Since she’d become his queen he’d been happier than he’d ever thought possible. He no longer had the bitter taste of betrayal in his mouth.

No one else compared to Tove, in his past or would in his future. The sweetness of her smile and the responsiveness of her body to his made him ache with love.

Compassion, kindness, and obedience came as naturally to her as it did for the spring flowers to rise from the ground. There was no other woman like her to walk the earth.

The longboat dipped down and he dug in his heels to stop from tipping out.

“Thor, have mercy!” a warrior just in front of him roared as he lost his seat and battled to get back up without dropping his oar.

“Keep going!” Leif shouted. “Pull! Pull! Pull!”

It’s important to reach the distant shores of Wessex, but is it worth our watery death?

That thought, along with the seer’s warnings, spun in Njal’s mind. Much as he didn’t fear death, welcomed feasting with the gods for all eternity, he wanted Tove at his side.

They’d feast together in Valhalla, then afterward he’d caress the round orbs of her buttocks, taste her breasts, her cunny, her mouth. They’d pleasure each other, her white skin flushing with each climax—as many climaxes as there were stars in the sky.

“Watch out!” Leif cried.

Njal pushed images of his wife from his mind. They were surrounded, three monster waves coming at them, a belt of angry water.

“Hold on!” Njal commanded. “Hold on!”

The longboat lifted into the air. The wooden hull creaked as the sea sought to snap it in two, or three, perhaps more.

Leif fell against Njal, and Njal braced against his brother, hoping if he was to die, they’d die together.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to leave Tove, or my sons, or my future sons.

He hated himself for the weakness of his thoughts, but what could he do about them? His heart had been stolen.

“Leif!” Bodil spun around, her hair plastered to her head and her wet cheeks icy white.

The boat was jostled to the right, and then the left. Crates and barrels rolled over the deck, their bindings having come loose.

“We will not die here!” Leif shouted back. “Hold on, my love.”

In that moment, Njal knew he was not the only warrior on board the longboat who had a woman in his heart. A woman whose body was craved, adored, and supped upon.

“We will turn back.” Njal braced as the boat hit down on the sea’s surface. “There is no crossing to Wessex this day.”

“We can do it, brother.” Leif dashed his hand over his face to get the water from his eyes. “We can.”

“And all die in the process? Leave our women, our families?” He gestured to Bodil. “You would have her die here?”

Leif frowned.

“I thought not.” Njal gripped his oar tighter. His hands were cold and stiff. “Turn around, warriors. We are going home. We cannot battle the rage of the sea. It is all powerful and hungry for souls.”

No complaints were forthcoming, and the warriors set to turning the longboat.

A wave crested over them, soaking each man on board. It confirmed Njal’s decision. The gates of the sea were closed today. It didn’t want them. Only fools would continue to try to pass, and Njal was no fool.

“We will go home and drink mead,” Leif shouted. “Beside the fire, and then spend the night in the warm arms of women.”

“Aye,” Njal said, hauling on his oar. “At this moment, the warm arms of a woman, my queen, are exactly what I want.”

* * *

Some time later, Tove and Knud walked out of the east side of the village toward Samark Lake. She’d bundled him up in two tunics and a coat, fearful of him getting a chill, and then a fever while his father was gone. She’d added a thick woolen scarf beneath her own cloak.

Knud held his small wooden longboat in his fist and ran ahead through the virgin snow. The trees were heavy with it, their evergreen boughs slumping toward the ground under the weight. Above the gray sky was bloated with more snow clouds and a biting wind sliced through the air.

Tove didn’t plan on being outside for too long. The light would soon fade, and she’d use that as an excuse to take Knud back to the Great Hall. But if he had time outside, thinking about something other than his father being out in a wild sea, that was good.

“Mama! Mama, look,” he called. “Samark Lake!”

Tove hurried to keep up with Knud. She pushed a low branch out of the way, snow tumbling in a flurry to the ground only to be whipped up by the wind. “Wait for me.”

“Look!”

She came to a stop beside him. The lake was indeed frozen over. A vast expanse of pure, flat white. In the distance, the mountain rose to the gods, its steep flanks dotted with open-mouthed caves.

“How can I play with my longboat here?” Knud held up the small toy.

“I did think it might be iced over.” She ruffled his hair.

“Can we walk up there and look?”

“Aye, but don’t step on the lake. We don’t know how thick the ice is.”

“It looks thick.”

“But we can’t be sure—it is early winter. You don’t want to fall in the freezing water, do you? If the ice is not strong, that is what will happen.”

“No, Mama.”

They walked at the lake’s edge, feet sinking into the deep snow. Tove spotted hare tracks, and made a note to tell Njal. He’d set some traps, or order some to be set. Hare broth was a good meal, and the soft fur made a fine inner lining for a hood.

Or for a newborn.

She smiled, wondering if she’d have a swollen belly by the spring. She hoped so. Njal certainly was keen to plant his seed in her every night—and during the day, too, if the mood took him.

She paused and looked over her shoulder, her mind going back to the roiling seas. She hoped Njord, the god of the sea, was feeling merciful, and would take pity on the Viking warriors’ plight.

“Mama!”

She returned her attention to the boy… Her heart leaped. “Knud! What are you doing?”

He’d stepped out onto the lake, leaving a trail of small footprints.

“It is thick and strong. Look!” He jumped into the air, slamming his feet down.

“No. Get off it.” Panic chilled her blood. It had barely been cold long enough for the ice to form. “Knud, now, get off it.”

He whooped and jumped again.

A piercing crack sounded, like the stroke of a whip. Fear stabbed like a dagger into Tove’s heart. “Knud! Get off it.”

His grin dropped as he looked down. Then quick as a flash, he vanished, disappearing into the spot he’d stood, falling through the ice.

Tove screamed and raced toward him. “Knud!” A shot of bile rushed up her gullet, her legs weak, terror surging.

His tiny hand appeared, clawing at the edge of the hole he’d fallen into.

Tove slid onto her stomach, spreading her weight. “Knud! Knud! Take my hand.”

She finally reached the jagged hole in the ice, but he’d slipped below the surface once more. She plunged her hand into the frigid water, and felt around frantically. “Knud!”

How can this be happening?

She stared at the blackness, her eyes blurring in terror. Suddenly, she spotted a shadow. Was it his head?

She pushed closer until she was hanging over the lip precariously. Quickly, she plunged both arms into the cold water, up to her shoulders.

Her heart lurched when she felt something solid. It was him. She grasped his clothing and heaved, dragging him upward.

His small head appeared, then his face. His eyes were wide, mouth open and spluttering.

“Knud!”

She scooted back from the hole, still holding on tight to the boy, dragging him out of the water. The sound of another crack rang out. She hurried, for beneath her the ice was breaking and giving way. Her cloak was soaked and heavy.

Gathering her strength, she pushed the sopping child toward the lake’s edge. “Go,” she managed. “Get to the bank.”

Knud seemed to regain strength, and he pushed to his knees, crawling fast.

The last thing Tove saw before the lake swallowed her was her new son making it safely off the treacherous ice.

The deathly cold stole her breath, almost stopping her heart. It tore over her scalp, stabbing into her skin, piercing her lungs. She tried to kick to the surface, but her legs would barely work, her heavy clothing wrapped around her limbs like an anchor chain.

The light was diminishing, the hole in the ice above her slipping into the distance. Again, she flailed, but if anything, the movement seemed to drag her deeper.

She closed her eyes, her father’s face dancing before her. Lined by age, he was smiling, welcoming her to the afterlife. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so scared, knowing he was there waiting for her.

But then a bitter sadness twisted her guts. She was leaving Njal. Her one true love. She wouldn’t see him for a very long time. She hoped he’d live a good long life without her. How many sons would he sire with another queen? The pain of being torn from her king, from her love, was almost too much to bear, and she wished for death to come quickly, for the pain to stop.

Then she was being hauled upward by her cloak. Her body glided through the water, pulled by a steely grip, swiftly drawing her toward the daylight, and finally, into the blessed air. She gasped, reaching out, clutching at ice—and then wrapping her numb fingers around a thick arm.

“Tove!”

She coughed, spluttering cold water from her throat.

Njal?

“Tove! This way!” He was breathless.

Now she was being dragged roughly over the snowy ice, puddles and cracks surrounding her. She scrabbled for something to hold onto, still trying to clear her lungs of water.

“Mama! Mama!” Knud’s hysterical voice pierced her ears.

“Stay off the lake, Knud.”

In the name of Freya! It is Njal!

She twisted to see his face. His expression was one of pure determination. He moved quickly, getting them both away from the hole in the ice with the help of a few branches he must have thrown down to spread his weight.

Finally, they reached the bank. He collapsed onto his back, and drew her onto him.

“Njal,” she managed, the cold making her voice quake, her teeth clatter.

“Tove. My love.” He cupped her face. “I thought I had lost you.”

“No… I am… why are you here…?” She shivered with every word. Her wet clothes were as heavy as logs laying over her back, making it hard to breathe.

“The sea was impassable. We returned so as not to invoke the wrath of the gods for our stupidity.”

“Mama, you are well?” Knud appeared by their side. He too was shivering.

“I am so… cold.” She shivered again, and closed her eyes.

“We must warm you.”

“I will take the boy.”

Tove recognized Wanda’s voice.

“Thank you,” Njal said, “And thank you for telling me they had come to the lake.”

“Thank you for saving our beloved queen,” Wanda said, anxiety etched in her voice. “Come here, Knud. You’re a bad boy for going on the ice, but we will still warm you, and get you fed.”

Their words were dreamlike to Tove. She was slipping into her own freezing world. All that existed was the ache in her muscles and the shivering in her spine, each tremble creating a quake that radiated outward. Her teeth had stopped clattering; even that was too much effort when all she could think about was the cold.

“Tove.” Njal was on his feet, dragging her up with him. “We need to get these off you.”

He was pulling at her cloak, yanking at her pants and tunic.

She shivered in his arms, her knees giving way.

He caught her, even as he continued stripping her, dropping the sodden clothes to the ground with a loud splat. Then she was cradled in his arms, and he was striding along the bank. He ducked into the forest, keeping her pressed to his chest.

The cold wind sliced into her exposed skin. She tucked her hands beneath her chin, huddling against his furs. She’d never been so cold. It had penetrated to every corner of her body and dulled her mind. Even her eyelashes had frozen.

When they reached the town, Tove was vaguely aware of voices, sharp and panicked. A blanket was thrown over her nakedness. But Njal didn’t slow, marching on.

Soon, Tove found herself surrounded by humid heat. She managed to open her eyes as warm air flooded her lungs. He’d brought her to the bathing room, holding her above the surface of the hot spring water.

“Here,” he said softly. “This will warm you.”

Suddenly, a blistering heat engulfed her feet. “Oh! No! It’s burning!”

“It’s not, it’s the same as it always is. It just feels too hot because you are so cold.”

He lowered her further.

She clung to his cloak as her rump hit the water, the searing heat seeping between her legs and into her chilled cunny.

“That’s it,” he said. “Soon, your blood will be hot again.”

Her teeth set about chattering once more, and she stared into his eyes, a gaze she’d truly believed she’d never see again.

“My love, I could not have lived without you,” he said.

She didn’t answer, the hot water she was submerged in both blissful and painful.

“You must never go onto the lake again.”

“I was… I was…” It was so hard to speak. “Knud, he went on it… he fell in, and I pulled him out.”

“I know, I saw. I was coming to find you when it all happened. Thanks to the gods that I turned the longboat around when I did—and that I declined Leif’s suggestion we drink mead for the rest of the day to console ourselves!”

“I am sorry that you had to see that.”

“Do not be sorry.” He touched his forehead to hers.

She breathed in his familiar scent.

“If you had drowned, I would have been the angriest Viking king to have ever lived. But you didn’t—and now, I am the happiest.”

She managed a weak smile, the shivers traveling up her spine finally abating.

“Better?” he asked.

“I think… so.” A final full body shudder overtook her, the water about her partially submerged breasts rippling with it.

“Oh, my love.” He kissed her forehead, then stood. “You are still too cold.”

She closed her eyes. Her body might have ceased its shaking, but her nerves were jangling. She thought of her father’s face again, how real he’d seemed when she’d been sinking into the blackness. Was that how it would be when her time really did come?

Would she go to him, to all the people she’d loved and lost?

“Here.”

A fresh burst of heat surrounded her feet once more, accompanied by the sound of pouring water.

Njal was adding more water to the tub. It was hot, the pail fresh from sitting over the fire.

“Oh, that’s good.” She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

He finished what he was doing, then knelt at her side. “There is more water heating.” He stroked her wet hair.

“I am feeling better. Thank you.”

“Do not thank me for saving your life. It was a selfish act. I do not wish to be without you, my queen, my love.” His finger trailed down her cheek then traced her jawline. “If I were never to see your beautiful face again, I do not know what would become of me.”

“You would continue to be a fine king.”

“A lonely king, and with a heart beating without meaning.” He slipped his hand beneath the water and caressed the rise of her breasts. “You have stopped shaking.”

“Aye. I have. The lake was so cold.”

“It had stolen your breath, and it was taking you into its depths.”

“But Knud is well?” A sudden fear shot through her. “Where is he?”

“Shh, he is with Wanda—also being warmed.”

“He is unharmed?”

“Frightened, that is all. And he has learned his lesson not to go onto the lake before the nights are at their longest.” He cupped the underside of her right breast in his big hand, running his thumb over her nipple.

“A good lesson.” She sighed. “Though nearly his last.”

“I will always be in your debt for saving my son.”

“There is no debt when he is our son. I love him too.”

He smiled. “You are a good mother to him. Better than his last one, who gave him and his brother no thought.”

“I will always try to be a good mother.”

He didn’t reply, instead he switched his attention to her other breast and carefully tweaked that nipple to hardness.

“I am feeling warmer.” She wriggled her toes, relieved the numbness had gone.

“I promise to always keep you warm and safe.”

“I know you will keep that promise.” She touched his beard. “I am glad you are home in Halsgrof.”

“As am I.” His questing hand slipped lower, over her belly, and to the juncture of her thighs.

“Njal,” she gasped.

“I know best how to warm you.”

She bit on her bottom lip as he slipped two fingers between her legs and found her entrance. She widened her thighs as he pushed in.

A soft moan left her throat, and she gripped the side of the tub. His fingers inside her were hot and thick, and he always touched her just how she liked. He knew her body better than she did.

“Let me give you pleasure,” he whispered, rubbing her sweet spot with his thumb.

“Oh, but…” She stared into his face. “You… you should also have…”

“No.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I want to watch you take pleasure. See every moment of bliss on your face.”

She stared into his eyes and curled her toes. He was circling her most sensitive place—where the pressure grew—and stroking her cunny. “Aye… oh… Njal!”

He smiled and lifted a little, adjusting his position. He looked down at where his arm entered the water. Beneath the surface it was blurred as he stroked her, creating light ripples upon the water.

The air was warm and moist, fogging around them. For a moment, Tove wondered if this is also what Valhalla would be like. Calm, warm, quiet—full of love and passion.

“Take your pleasure, my queen.”

Her legs were shaking, not with cold, but with the need to reach a climax.

His rhythm was steady, firm. She relaxed into it. Her husband wouldn’t stop until she toppled into bliss, so she had no fear about being left unsatisfied.

“You’re even more beautiful with desire on your face, and in your eyes.” He smiled, his gaze not leaving hers. His breaths had picked up a little, as though excited to be watching her so closely as he touched her.

“I’m going to…” Her head grew heavy and she relaxed, laying it against the side of the tub. She closed her eyes, her lips parting. Her abdomen was taut and she was hot now, her skin tingling.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers. “Take it, take what you need. I will always give it to you.”

“Njal,” she said on a pant. “My king.” She arched her back and her breasts rose, nipples breaching the water. The pressure was about to release, and soon bliss would claim her.

She batted open her eyes, and saw his face so close, dark pupils brimming with love, a line of concentration creasing his brow.

“It’s here…” She clutched his hard shoulder, the muscle there rippling and flexing as he worked her. “Oh, in the name of Odin… it’s here… I’m…!”

She held her breath, and not breaking eye contact savored the moment before her climax burst from her sweet spot, claiming her body.

Writhing in the water, she rode his hand, dragging his fingers deeper with the powerful spasms in her cunny. Groans tore from her throat, echoing through the damp air, competing with the sounds of the water splashing against the sides of the tub.

“I will always be here,” he said, his nose an inch from hers. “To give you everything you need.”

Tove knew that was true. Her husband, the king, provided her with love and discipline, protection and pleasure. The gods had smiled on her the day her mother had put her name forward to be queen. Even though she had been angry, it had been her fate.

Tove realized she didn’t always know what was best for her. Luckily, Njal did, and she would spend her life at his side, giving and receiving the pleasure he gifted her. Obeying him. Supporting him.

And, she hoped, providing him with many sons to fight, raid, and explore at his side in the years to come.