Wildest Dreams

Chapter Five

Welcome Home

Six weeks later…

“Woo hoo!” I cried, feeling the rush of cold air coming in behind me as someone entered the pub.

I ignored it to crow my victory, my arms straight up over my head and I grinned at the men sharing the table with me before I dropped my arms and leaned in, pulling the pile of coin toward me.

“Are you sure I taught you this game two short weeks ago, Princess Finnie?” Laurel grumbled at me from my right, watching his money come toward my big pile.

“Mm hmm, swear,” I nodded, turned my head, lifted my hand to cross my heart and smiled big at him, “cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Right,” Ulysses muttered from my left and I swung my smile at him to see him smiling back showing me he held no ill-will. Then again, we were playing for what was, essentially, pennies so it wasn’t like they owed me the notes on their cottages.

I reached for the rough deck of cards, my fingers deftly organizing them in order to shuffle as I declared, “My deal.”

“Make sure she doesn’t do it from the bottom, Uly, she may be the mother of our future king but I don’t put anything passed her,” Frederick, across from me, said to Ulysses even though I knew he was kidding.

He liked me

In fact, most of the village of Houllebec did. And the only people in the village (that I knew of) who didn’t were people I had not met.

My adventure may have not started all that great but it got a whole lot better.

First, I found a side saddle in the stable (as well as a big washing tub with one of those grinder things to wring out clothes so I could wash my clothes and I did, using that thing, though, it must be said it wasn’t my favorite thing to do especially since I had to hang everything all around the house and it took forever to dry and messed with the cozy, rustic cabin vibe I had going).

I knew how to ride, just not side saddle, but I loaded the saddle on one of my grays, figured out how to lug my ass up on it and, the very next day after I arrived, I followed our tracks into the village I quickly learned was called Houllebec.

And I’d gone every day since.

The village was awesome. It didn’t only look cool, it was cool. It had two warm, clean, fun pubs, both that served excellent food and both had inns because people travelled there to use the hot springs that were hidden all through the hills – this a moneymaker for the townsfolk as the hot springs were well known and the people who sought them brought loads of “coin”. It had a bakery that made magnificent bread, tarts, cakes and even pastries. They had a butcher, a small dressmaker, a market that had staples and not-so-staples including some fresh veg on occasion and even bright-colored delicious candy and sumptuous chocolate they brought in (stocked all the time!) and homemade fudge they made right in the window. It had a blacksmith, an iron works, a stable, a mill and other such cool-as-shit, remote village-in-a-frozen-parallel-world stuff.

I wandered the town daily and sometimes stayed as late as dinner, which I ate in the pubs, and beyond so I could have a few ales, chat and play cards with new friends.

I was friendly, talkative and anyway, they knew who I was because they heard about me marrying The Drakkar who, I discovered, was actually named Drakkar, as in Frey Drakkar, this I learned luckily if coincidentally on my fourth (but not last) stop to buy chocolate croissants from the bakery. They also knew me because my hair was well-known and many of them told me they’d know me from miles away with just one glimpse of my Lunwyn-wide, famous, beautiful white-blonde hair (this I thought was sweet).

And they were in fits of ecstasy because their country’s only princess was in their midst, she was friendly and chatty, liked their wares and spent her husband’s coin freely.

I was in fits of ecstasy because Houllebec was awesome, no matter how many times I went, there were always new things to discover, they were nice and, when I started to hang, I found they were fun to be around.

So I hung around… lots.

Even when I was at home, I was never bored and found ways to entertain myself. I tried on all my clothes and underwear (all fabulous). And I might have had a fantastic bakery a ten minute horse ride away but I’d also befriended Audrey and Cedric, the baker’s wife and baker, and they’d told me how to make bread, cakes and tarts in the oven at home. I bought the stuff from Maria at the market and I had to admit the first few goes weren’t anything to write home about (this included normal cooking) but I got the hang of the fire-burning stove. It was a pain in the ass but the results were worth it.

Every day prior to going to town, I also got on one of my grays (they were on a rotation so they could all get some exercise) and started slow circles of the land around Drakkar’s cabin. I did this just to check things out and I did it steady and smart, noting landmarks so I wouldn’t get lost. My circles widened by the day and at first I found there wasn’t much but the good news was, it was all pretty.

That was, there wasn’t much until I found Drakkar had his own personal hot spring.

Yep, his own personal hot spring!

It was an oasis in the middle of the frigid forest of gray, slick stone that, because of the spring, was warm to the touch, steam rising from the water which was sublime.

I went there every day too, mostly because this was where I bathed. It was much better than starting a fire hours before to heat the bathroom space, then boiling water on the stove and lugging it to the tub then the back and forth with buckets to empty it, finally, when I could shift it, dragging the whole damn thing to tip it out around the house where the slosh of water wouldn’t make my walkways too icy.

Hell, after I did all that, I was sweaty and needed another freaking bath.

The hot springs were way better in more ways than one. I freaking loved sitting out in the beauty of the frosty forest and luxuriating in the hot, splendiferous water. It was the bomb.

I had also adopted a cat, a huge, fat, ginger named Penelope. This was from Lindy, the bar wench, whose new husband was allergic and she couldn’t find anywhere for her cat to go. Penelope had been relegated to the stables, something she did not like, until I took her home. My gray didn’t like her much on her back, and Penelope was not all fired up about the ride, but we made it to the cabin without (major) incident and Penelope did like the cabin. And she especially liked a Momma who liked to cuddle and didn’t mind getting up every ten minutes to let her out to explore then getting up ten minutes later to let her in because it was fucking cold outside.

She made sleep a dream because she purred me straight to slumberland and her big, fat body was warm on my feet.

And lastly, I had five books that were packed for me and I discovered that Sjofn had not screwed me as badly as I thought she had (though she did still screw me) once I cracked them open.

The first was a history of the Northlands including Lunwyn, where I was princess, my father was king and my mother queen. The Northlands also included Middleland (where I discovered my Uncle Baldur was king though I found this strange since I didn’t have an uncle at home and anyway, I’d never heard of a man with a name like Baldur). I also learned the House of Drakkar (which I wondered if my husband was a part of) used to rule the land ages ago. Though I couldn’t know about my husband’s House for the book focused more on recent history rather than past history, he wasn’t mentioned and I reckoned Sjofn chose it so I’d know what I was dealing with in the present.

I’d learned from this book that also in the Northlands there was the country of Hawkvale, a small city state called Bellebryn and another country at the south border called Fleuridia.

This book was written well and was interesting and I knew Sjofn chose it not only for informational purposes but also because the information was put forward in an entertaining way. Therefore, I was entertained.

The second was the story of the gods and the third was a slim tome about religious practices in Lunwyn which explained the whole church thing.

The six statues at the church, or Dwelling of the Gods as they called it here, were their six gods: Wohden, god of power (his color was dark blue, and those who prayed to him or made offerings did so to shrines bearing his color or with gifts in his color), Hermia, goddess of motherhood (her color, light blue), Meer, god of war (his color, red), Adele, goddess of passion (her color, deep violet), Keer, god of destiny, (his color, gold) and Alabasta, goddess of wisdom and overseer of the earth (her color, green).

Holy people, known as Vallees, were all men and all ceremonies, including Friday night sermons, were delivered in what was known as the “ancient tongue” or what the Lunwynian people spoke centuries ago. The reason for this was traditional, and, in my opinion, a little idiotic seeing as only Vallees spoke the ancient tongue (but usually, they didn’t actually know it, only a few religious scholars did, they just recited it which meant that dude jabbering on at our wedding had memorized that whole thing which, I had to admit, was kind of remarkable) with everyone else in Lunwyn knowing only a few words.

My bundle of twigs was a traditional bundle held by brides. It was gathered from the adela tree, a tree spiritual belief had it that Adele, goddess of passion, caused to glitter through her magic and, if you steeped its twigs and drank it, it was supposed to be an aphrodisiac but seemed, upon reading in the book a description of what it could do, more like something to use simply to have one hell of an almighty trip.

The fourth and fifth books I wouldn’t understand until I found my true note that Sjofn stuffed in one of them.

They were also slim tomes but they told the tales of the “Raiders” or, what others called the “Voyagers”. These were men who sailed the many seas of this world, finding treasure (or taking it by looting and pillaging). They seemed somewhat like what the legends told of old Vikings from my world.

I would understand the inclusion of these because Sjofn’s note said this:

Seoafin,

I introduce you to your new husband. He is the most noted Raider in all of Lunwyn, tales of his exploits have spread across the Northlands and beyond. If you read about it in these books, it is likely he has done it. He comes from a long line of Raiders, his ancestors given the name Drakkar, the Dragon, in ancient times because they were as fierce, mighty and clever as the great beasts of old who plundered the land before their power was leashed by Wohden and used to serve our frosted realm. Though his family have long since ceased these activities, your new husband has again ventured forward as his ancestors did.

It is, however, highly unlikely (this word was underlined and she was right in her guess) you’ll see this note until after you are bound to him. You must know I apologize for that. I would guess, by this time, you will also know why I was eager to be away (another good guess) and understand the timing which I could not avoid for I was never alone prior to my nuptials for father and mother feared I would try to escape. The girls who serve me managed to open a window for me at the time the switch occurred, it was short, and ill-timed for you, but it was unfortunately the best I could do.

I hope that Alyssa, Jocelyn, Esther or Bess had the time to explain things to you about me before you were away on your sleigh to the Dwelling of the Gods for the marriage ceremony. If they did not, I apologize for that too, but I will tell you now you can trust all of them as they know who you are and why you are there. They are not only my servants but also good friends and I would trust them with my life. And they have sworn to me that you can do the same.

To explain, my father’s kingdom cannot pass to a woman and he has no other children but me. Therefore, if I provide no male heir, at his death, Lunwyn will be ruled by his twin brother Baldur who is currently king of Middleland, the nation to our south. Their father, my grandfather, King Halldor ruled both and split it for although my father came forth first, my grandfather was a kind and fair man and he thought this was just and right.

It was not. My uncle is not like my father or grandfather and it is imperative that our beautiful land not pass into his hands, or that of his son. His son, my cousin Broderick, is a lovely man but he is no king. Either of these rulers would be very bad for my sparkling, frosty Lunwyn. Before the House of Wilde secured the throne, Lunwyn saw centuries of dark times, decades upon decades of turmoil. Uncle Baldur’s or Broderick’s reign would be disputed, most likely violently and by many factions, and everything must be done to secure the throne, thus continued peace and prosperity for Lunwyn.

Considering how I am, obviously, I want no husband. But I knew I had to take one for my country in order to provide them with a ruler who could be molded by myself, and a strong father, to be a good king. Unfortunately, no matter how my parents encouraged me then commanded me to do so, I dawdled in this duty. Therefore, Father stepped in and found The Drakkar, who he admires greatly and who often successfully performs difficult or dangerous tasks others cannot and he does this for the realm.

If I were to find a man, he would not be a man like The Drakkar, who frightens me as well as the idea of his advances repulsing me.

But I must do this for my country I just wanted to… wait. To have some time. To explore and be able to be me, something I could not, for fear of my secret being discovered, do at home. And when the witch came with your communication, giving me information of this whole other world I did not know existed, I’m afraid I jumped eagerly at the chance.

I am sure by this time you have come to know what others have said is true (or at least I hope so) about The Drakkar. He is said to be quite virile, very skilled in this area and many women not like me have noted he is extremely pleasing to look upon. In fact, he is much sought after and considered a very fine catch, perhaps, though I pay no attention to these things, the best in the realm.

I do hope with all my heart you feel this way. It may help you as you deal with him to know that he and I do not know each other very well, we have met only three times, we did not converse far beyond the civilities and therefore, although I am certain he knows much of me, as everyone in the realm does, he does not know (again, underlined) me. Therefore, although you will not be working with an entirely clean slate, it is clean enough that I hope you can build the relationship you need to build with The Drakkar to make your time with him enjoyable during your adventure. (Well, she was wrong about that, maybe she was drunk.)

And I also hope that you have found a witch to assist you with not conceiving his child or can find the courage to discuss this with The Drakkar who can don a sheath to stop this from happening. This is my duty, one I will bear on my return. You will simply need to find a way to stop the conception of a child until I can offer this service to my country.

Or, perhaps, in a year’s time, our return to our worlds can be reconsidered. It would truly break my heart to leave my Lunwyn but if you were to wish to remain with The Drakkar and any offspring you can provide who would serve my ice-bound nation with fairness and decency, and be happy doing so, I would make this sacrifice for the good of my people.

But we will communicate when that time comes.

In the meantime, I wish you great adventures with your adventurer, Seoafin. From the communications you sent me, it seems you will fit The Drakkar well.

I do hope that is true.

Yours,

Sjofn

Okay, so she didn’t want to totally play me, but still, she played me. I had been very forthcoming with her about why I wanted the switch so clearly she’d been (kind of) matchmaking at the same time looking out for herself. She had not been as forthcoming with me including news about her upcoming nuptials and her Mom and Dad not being her biggest fans and the duty she had to her country.

It would have been nice to have a choice and know what I was dealing with prior to having to deal with it.

But I had to admit, reading about the Raiders/Voyagers, the thought that that man was one of them was intriguing. I had the sense from the books that their lifestyle was romanticized more than a little bit (again, carefully selected by Sjofn, no doubt in order to call to my own spirit for adventure, something I’d shared with her). But their adventures on the seas, their wide travels, the people they had to meet, the things they saw… well, I was me, the adventurer daughter of two adventurers.

I couldn’t say Sjofn was wrong about that.

Still, she could have warned me including the fact that she had told him about herself and that he clearly had not reacted well to this news. Unless she had done it while drunk off her ass and didn’t remember which seemed to be the case.

Nevertheless, he was gone, I was here, I was on my adventure and, as I always did, I was sucking all I could get from it. I had my cozy little rustic-chic cabin. I could bake an amazing pecan pie with a fantastic, flaky crust in an old-fashioned oven (and I bet none of my girlfriends at home could pull off something like that and Claudia had proved she could cook on anything, campfire, camp stove, underground hot stones, anything). I had my own personal hot springs. I had a fat, purry cat to cuddle (that I hoped Valentine could get home with me when I went back). And when I was tired of my own company, I had four horses to choose to ride and a town full of people to chat with.

I was totally set and having a fabulous time.

And I couldn’t wait to tell Claudia, though I told myself I wouldn’t rub her nose in it.

I expertly shuffled the cards, my eyes on them, as I suggested, “How about I teach you boys poker?”

Although I suggested it, I didn’t know how I was going to do it considering they didn’t have the same face cards. They had diamonds but they had no hearts, clubs or spades, instead they had stars, moons and daggers. But the deck started at a dash or “naught” and also had ones, a ghost card and a sorceress card so I figured we could make ones aces and naughts, ghosts and sorceresses could be face cards.

As I was deciding this, I realized none of the boys had said anything so I looked up.

It was then I belatedly felt the air in the pub which was wired.

And it was then I belatedly noticed that Ulysses, Frederick and Laurel were all looking in the direction of the door.

And that was when I felt a weird, pulsing and warm but very scary energy beating at my back.

Shit, Dad had always told me never sit with your back to the door. And there I was, like Wild Bill Hickock before he bought it, sitting with my stupid back to the door.

Slowly, I turned in my chair. Equally slowly, my eyes drifted up the so dark brown it was nearly black clothing, taking in the knife belt (with knives), leather band across the wide chest, slanted cloak made of hides and angled sword at the back of my now heavily bearded husband.

He was scowling at me.

I was fighting for breath.

Shit!

What did I do now?

I instantly realized my mistake of not, perhaps, taking some time away from enjoying my parallel universe adventure and, say, preparing for his return, considering the fact he told me he would be returning. I realized this as my eyes flicked beyond him and I saw about seven men, all smaller than him (not by much) all dressed a lot like him, all sporting thick beards, all having hair (of a variety of colors) that needed a cut, all of them scary and all of their eyes were on me.

This must be some of his Raider brethren.

Ho boy.

I pulled in a deep breath to fill my lungs.

Then I smiled huge and called, “Hi honey! I see you’re home.”

There was some movement around me but not much as that weird, pulsing, warm, very scary energy filled the pub until it was suffocating.

Then he growled at me across the expanse, “Wife, arse over here.”

Hmm. Not sure I liked that.

Nope, I was wrong. I was sure I didn’t like that.

Nevertheless, he was twice the size of me and he had seven men of much the same size behind him. I had Frederick, Ulysses and Laurel. Sure, Ulysses was the blacksmith and he had forearms the size of anvils (and likely the consistency, though I hadn’t checked), but Frederick and Laurel were lightweights compared to the Raider Party.

And I liked them, I knew they liked me, we’d had some good times, but we weren’t exactly BFFs (yet) so I wasn’t certain they’d wade in for me.

Not with these guys.

It was probably best that I got my arse over there.

I nodded to Drakkar and turned, putting down the cards.

“Thanks guys, see you all later,” I muttered, grabbed my little, satin, drawstring bag off the table, decided to let my winnings sit where they were and with some haste I stood, snatched my cloak off the back of my chair and moved quickly, trying to do it without appearing like I was moving quickly, through the silent pub, taking every step with every eye in the place on me.

I wasn’t certain what would happen once I got my arse to him because one could say I didn’t know my husband like, at all, but I would never have been prepared for what did happen.

The minute I was within reach, he reached. Then, with a small, surprised cry, I found myself, ass in the air, over his shoulder. Then I found myself out of the pub and into the cold night. Then I found my ass on my horse and my arms automatically came up quickly to catch the cloak I had lost and he had caught and was now throwing at me.

Then he growled two words, “Arse. Home.”

“But –” I started but didn’t finish.

He lifted a large hand and slapped my gray on the rump, barking, “Yah!” and my gray took off at a full gallop.

I didn’t even have the reins in my hand!

What a fucking dick!

I quickly hooked my leg around the saddle, leaned forward, holding onto the gray around her neck so I wouldn’t fall off, I grabbed the reins then sat back and, as best I could with purse and reins, I flung the fur lined cloak around my shoulders.

Then I rode home and I did this fast. This was because I was pissed way the fuck off and I knew if I didn’t go in that direction, I’d go back to the pub and probably do something that would get me murdered by a giant Viking-type, parallel universe Raider.

So I went home, straight to the stables where I unsaddled and stalled the gray, stomped to the house, stoked up the banked fires, dropped logs on them, lit candles and lamps, climbed up and built a fire in the loft and then I went down the ladder and paced.

What I did not do was calm down.

My husband and I had to get a few things straight.

First was that he didn’t do anything that threatened to break my neck, such as set a horse to full gallop when I was not seated properly and didn’t have hold of the reins.

Second was that he had to stop throwing me on or in some type of transport when I didn’t have anything to shield me from the freezing, arctic, fucking air.

Third was that he was going to hear how I felt about him humiliating me in front of people who were becoming my friends.

I knew there was probably a fourth through about a five hundredth but I was fucking well going to start with those.

I seethed and ranted in my brain while I paced for a long time. Then I realized I’d been pacing for a long time. Then I realized I’d been drinking ale, had a fabulous shepherd’s pie at the pub and I was getting tired. Then I realized this was happening because it was way late and I’d been home for what felt like hours and he wasn’t home.

Then I decided, fuck him.

I was going to bed.

So I went to the trunks, grabbed a nightgown, went to the bathroom type room, changed, came out, flung my clothes on a trunk, blew out the candles and lanterns, threw more logs on the fires and climbed up the ladder where Penelope was already curled and asleep.

I threw more logs on that fire too, slid the curtain shut then I climbed under the sheet, quilt and fluffy wool blanket and was out like a light within minutes.

* * * * *

My eyes drifted open as something light and lovely glided from the back of my knee up the skin of the back of my thigh.

I came to a sleepy, confused, definitely hazy semi-focus in the firelight, my eyes taking in a muscled, so dark brown it was nearly black, wool breeches covered knee and thigh resting on the bed.

I blinked.

“Waste,” I heard a low, male rumble and the finger kept going, pushing up my nightgown, drifting over my hip and then down toward my ass. “Waste,” it repeated.

The words registered, the touch registered and the direction it was heading registered.

Holy moly!

I shot up to sitting in bed, one hand in the bed, the covers tumbling off me, the finger moved from me and Penelope scrambled away on a bee-line to the rope of the pulley, deserting me as she used her claws on the rope to crawl down.

Oh shit. My husband was sitting on the bed facing me. I was half lounging in it. As usual, I’d kicked the covers off one leg and was straddling them; the ones that covered my torso were now at a bunch at my waist.

But I didn’t notice this. I was staring in his eyes which were staring at me.

Then his big hand lifted and I sat stock-still as it moved toward me, cupped my jaw gently, then it slid down to the side of my neck. There, it curled around to the back, his fingers tangled in my hair and kept moving downward.

“Uh –” I started but didn’t continue mainly because I was speechless with fear.

“Soft,” he muttered, his eyes on my neck, his fingers twisting in my hair. “Softer than I expected. As soft as it is beautiful. A miracle,” he kept muttering, his mind somewhere else at the same time it was on me.

My mind was totally on him and he wasn’t completely in my space but he wasn’t far enough away that I couldn’t smell the whisky.

Shit. Drunk guys probably didn’t care if you were a lesbian.

No, I knew by the look in his heated green-brown eyes they most definitely did not care.

Shit!

“Frey,” I whispered and when I did, his gaze snapped instantly to mine.

“Say that again,” he ordered.

I didn’t say it again. I asked what I thought was a very pertinent question.

“Uh, are you inebriated?”

At my words, his hand twisted and fisted in my hair. It didn’t hurt, a slight pull at my scalp, but he was a very big man with his very big fist in my hair so he had my attention.

“Say that again,” he repeated.

“Um… Frey,” I whispered.

Suddenly, he used my hair to pull me to him as he leaned close to me and when he had me an inch away, he growled, “Gods, that you’d say that, just like that, when you were full of me.”

At his words, I felt a little tingle in happy place.

Uh, what was that?

I put a hand to the massive wall of his (very hard, I noted on encountering it) chest, and put on gentle pressure, starting to suggest, “Maybe we should –”

“Tonight, we pretend,” he muttered, cutting me off.

Ho boy!

“I think –”

Before I could finish telling him what I thought, he let me go. Then he twisted, bent his torso and tugged his boots off. Then before I knew it, off went his sweater and I was treated to a view of a highly tanned, supremely muscled, obviously powerful back. I was still blinking as that vision burned into my brain (and I had to admit, it was pleasantly) when, still seated in the bed with me, off went his breeches.

Ho boy!

Now frantic, though unfortunately belatedly, I started to scoot back, saying, “Um… would you mind if –?” but I again didn’t finish.

This was because, without appearing to move, he was reclining in bed and I was reclining with him. He flicked the covers over us then both his powerful arms locked around me and yanked me to his side.

“Cradle my thigh,” he growled and I blinked at his chest, pushing lightly against it, registering it was as powerfully muscled as his back and so wide it seemed to go on forever.

“Wha… what?”

“As you did the quilt,” he stated then got impatient. His hand, starting at my hip, moved swiftly down my thigh, his torso (and me, I might add, since his other arm was still locked around me) lifting in order to reach, then his fingers hooked the back of my knee and he yanked my leg up until I was doing what he asked, half straddling his thigh like I did the covers.

Then he settled back down in bed and kept firm hold on me.

“Well, uh… okay, uh… do you think –?” I started but he cut me off again.

“This is not the welcome home I’d like, wife, but it’ll do and you’ll sleep here, like this, until the morning. You don’t, I’ll take the welcome home from you I’d like and I won’t delay. Do you understand me?”

I understood him. I was totally okay with sleeping like this because I had a feeling I knew what kind of welcome home he’d like.

And incidentally, I was right about drunk guys not minding lesbians.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Now shut your mouth and sleep.”

I pressed my lips together in order not to inform him that he hadn’t actually let me open my mouth to say much of anything. I didn’t think he’d appreciate that reminder at that juncture.

What I did not do was sleep.

He was out in seconds.

I still did not sleep.

Penelope clawed her way back up the rope, curled at my one free foot and purred herself to slumber and I still did not sleep.

I knew that dawn had to have touched the sky (though I couldn’t see it with the curtains closed) and then, only then, did I find sleep.

And unfortunately when that happened, in sleep, I curled deeper into the big, hard, stranger at my side, my arm snaking around him and holding tight, my thigh curving around his, my knee and calf falling between his legs, my hips cradled by the side of his, my cheek pillowed on his massive, hard chest.

This was something I did normally in my sleep with covers and pillows.

Something I did that night with something a lot warmer, a lot more comfortable and a lot more dangerous.

And when I slept curled tight around my dark stranger husband, I slept deep.