//------------------------------//
// Ast ok drengskapr binda okkr (fyrst halfr) 
// Story: The Lovers' Edda 
// by Simon_oSullivan 
//------------------------------//


Ást ok drengskapr binda okkr (Love and honor bind us)


Torrents of water guided by a mighty gale thrashed the rugged palisade between Scandineighvia and the outside world. Despite the wild weather, the wooden structure stood impassive, as did the pair of sturdy ponies standing watch outside the city. The salmon unicorn mare guard kept herself next to the colossal copper earth stallion, using him as a wind-breaker. Their tails, as well as his beard, were dripping water. Rivulets of water fell from the headdress that covered Kynngi’s crimson mane and the ox pelt the stallion wore. It was a simply knotted orange kerchief decorated with plenty of runes in relief that formed spells if read.

“By Þórshamarr, Drakkar, where are you?!”cried the huge stallion, stomping the muddy ground with both front hooves, his brown mane and beard shaking and sending raindrops flying in all directions. His drooping ears contrasted with his angry outburst..

“We are all worried about him, Megin-gjarð,” replied the female unicorn, swishing her tail in an attempt to shake out most of the water as she spoke. “You should relax, though. Drakkar will be back anytime soon.”

Megin-gjarð turned to face his old friend. “What if he doesn't, Kynngi?” he insisted. “Almost two months have passed since he went to Equestria. Even the hófkarl sent to gryphon lands has returned, and that kingdom is the farthest of all!”

“For having trained with him all these years, you have a surprising lack of faith in him.” Kynngi’s ears folded back, but she still showed a snarky grin. “Can it be that defeating him so many times makes you think he’s no match for a few weaklings of the South?”

“I've fought alongside him a dozen times, yes,” replied Megin-gjarð with a loud grunt. “But only the Æsir know what lies in that kingdom.”

“Nothing dangerous enough to pose a threat to us,” spat Kynngi between gritted teeth. “We would've crushed them a long time ago if that had been the case. Every single pony sent to map the kingdom returned
 safe and sound. What makes you think Drakkar wouldn't?”

“Then why is he taking so long?”

“I don't know!” Kynngi's sudden turn displaced her kerchief, her crimson mane spilling across the right half of her face as she screamed. Despite the large difference in size, the mare stood furiously, craning her neck to stare him in the eyes. "Do you think I'm not concerned about him? Well, I am as well! I miss him too! I know it's been two months since he left, but I try not to think about it!"

"He's my friend, Kynngi," replied Megin-gjarð with a grunting scowl. The ox pelt rested heavily over his shoulders, though he still moved with the same determination as if his back were bare. "The first I've had, and you know it! Before him, I was Jǫtiunhestr to everypony!"
"He's my friend, too, but I also think that he's competent enough to survive on his own!" Kynngi shook her head, the sound of the downpour filling in the silence left by their voices as she worked on setting her headdress correctly again. A snarky smile covered Megin-gjarð's face as he looked away, looking as if he were restraining a chuckle. "What's so funny, Megin-gjarð?" she asked while raising an eyebrow.

“I've just considered blaming your husband's lack of prowess in the bedroom for your irritability,” he replied, his growing smile still half hidden behind his dark, bushy beard.

“Watch your words, Megin-gjarð!” screamed Kynngi as her horn shone brightly, getting only indifference from the colossal stallion. “Besides, what should you know about that? You, whose size has scared away every mare in the kingdom?”

“It is true that I have yet to lie with a mare and that my size, combined with the rumors about my heritage, prevent me from getting a wife,” said Megin-gjarð, towering over the mare despite her intimidation attempts. “But þraelar gossip, and such rumors spread as a forest fire. They say the nights with your husband are so silent that they can sleep without problems. “

“You must have become dreadfully bored since you finished your training and became a hófkarl if you spend more time paying attention to rumors than doing what you're supposed to do,” replied Kynngi, looking away with an annoyed huff.

“I'm not saying that you are the one to blame, Kynngi,” said Megin-gjarð as he walked towards her.

“But it's true that I have yet to bear a foal from Fastrrás!” She let out a loud, exasperated huff before turning to Megin-gjarð. “I'm really amazed at him: so incompetent and yet so full of himself!”

“You could always ask for divorce,” said Megin-gjarð with a shrug. “You weren't that happy with the idea of marrying Fastrrás anyways.”

“He is a fine stallion and takes great care of me,” admitted Kynngi with a half-smile. “But it's true that he's far from competent in the bedroom, and being pressured to have foals isn't doing us any good. I've seen Drakkar pulling fishes out of the water, splashing in vain to breathe and return to water. And those dripping, convulsing, wet spasms and gasps for air look far more pleasant than what Fastrrás does in our bed.”

Megin-gjarð raised an eyebrow, speechless, leaving the now slowing rain as background noise. “I want to laugh, but I also want to be serious out of respect.”

“I've given him a few more days,” said Kynngi as she showed a taunting smirk. “Either he changes his attitude or divorce is the only option. I’ll probably ask Drakkar’s hoof in marriage.” She looked at Megin-gjarð through the corner of the eye. “Do you think he’ll say yes?” she asked, her ears drooping.

“A lot has happened since your argument about Gisli,” he replied with a shrug, “but I wouldn’t give Fastrrás away that easily. If you are totally serious about Drakkar, though, I think you should wait a bit after the divorce before jumping at him.”
“Hey, don’t speak as if I were desperate for him!” Kynngi looked away to hide her furious blush, causing Megin-gjarð to stare amusedly at her. There was an uncomfortable silence that only broke when the sound of water against the ground disappeared. She looked up to the clearing sky, small portions of teal easily visible between the clouds. “Finally!” she cried with a loud huff..

“This hide will take forever to dry,” grunted Megin-gjarð as he wrung out a portion of his ox garment.

Kynngi rolled her eyes and sighed as she turned to look at him. “It was you who wanted to wear it,” she replied. “I would be more concerned about the stink, though.”

“Better a wet ox-hide on my back than a useless husband on yours,” said Megin-gjarð with a burst of laughter.

“Tell me about it,” added Kynngi before matching Megin-gjarð's contagious laughter with her own.

Even over their loud noise, they overheard a loud roar in the distance. Megin-gjarð's ears perked up, turning to face the direction the sound had come from, showing a wide grin. “I'd recognize that roar anywhere in the Nine Realms!”

“Drakkar's back!” cried Kynngi, looking in the same direction her friend was. Both stared at the slowly approaching chariot. Two white pegasi stallions donned in strange full plate barding pulled +the vehicle, with Drakkar standing proudly on it. Kynngi’s ears perked up when she noticed the mare sitting next to him, daring to brazenly pull him back to his seat. A growl escaped her lips as Drakkar and the mare looked at each other and laughed together.

“Who are those with him?” inquired Megin-gjarð with great concern, raising his round iron shield in front of him.

“I don't know, but stay calm,” replied Kynngi as she cocked an eyebrow, slowly smiling as she noticed Drakkar waving at them. “Whoever they are, they aren't hostiles. You don't really think Drakkar would've allowed himself to get captured, right?”

A quick burst of laughter escaped Megin-gjarð's mouth, though he kept his shield between himself and the approaching chariot. “He survived our training together,” he said proudly. “He could beat all those ponies on his own if he had to.”

“Megin-gjarð!” cried Drakkar before jumping off the vehicle and galloping towards his old friend.

As Megin-gjarð galloped towards the chariot, the brightly armored pegasi took a step back, the three mares on the vehicle staring in awe at him. Everypony let a relieved sigh as Megin-gjarð and Drakkar joined in a tight hug. Both ponies strongly patted each others back, the loud thumping only barely drowned out by their booming laughter at being reunited.

“By Sifjarhár, Drakkar, where have you been?” asked Megin-gjarð after letting his friend go. “The trip was supposed to last only a month, and you took two to return!”

“I had my reasons, my friend,” replied Drakkar, waving at Kynngi before gesturing for her to come closer. “But I haven't been wasting time, I can assure you that.”

“And I believe you, but the Jarl has become quite impatient, so you better have something worth being sung for decades. Who are those behind you, by the way?” asked Megin-gjarð, pointing at the chariot.

Drakkar looked back, noticing that Mjǫllna and her family were talking to the guards. “Mjǫllna, come here!” he called as he waved his foreleg.

Both Drakkar's friends raised an eyebrow at the sound of the name. “Mjǫllna?” repeated Kynngi, her ears suddenly pricking forward. She focused her attention on the mare, staring into her eyes as she kept asking questions. “Where did you find her? And who is she exactly?”

“In a town in Equestria,” he replied with a triumphant grin. “And if I told you who she is, you wouldn't believe me.”

“Nice suit, by the way,” added Kynngi. Both Drakkar and Mjǫllna were still in their gala suit and dress. “I'm surprised you didn't notice, Megin-gjarð.”

“You're right, Kynngi. Even more, this looks just like that suit you had as a colt!” exclaimed Megin-gjarð in shock. “Are you saying that ponies in Equestria wear the same clothes as us?”

“I'll answer every question after I talk to the Jarl, but for now, the important part.” Drakkar gently moved aside, allowing Mjǫllna to get closer to them.

“Hail,” she greeted, hitting her chest as she did. “I am Mjǫllna Eldstaðsdóttir, blacksmith of Ponyville and direct descendant of the war heroine Gleipna Brynhildóttir. These mares who come with us are my mother, Eldstaðr Vínviðsdóttir, and my grandmother, Vínviðr Gleipnadóttir.” She ceremoniously moved her hoof down to show the necklace of úlfsvetir fangs. “To prove my word, I bear the heirloom my great-grandmother left to my family.” As both Megin-gjarð and Kynngi stared at the necklace without even blinking, she looked at Drakkar, who joined her at her side. “Do you think I've overdone it?” she whispered.

“A bit, but I don't think it matters,” replied Drakkar with a chuckle.

Megin-gjarð and Kynngi looked at each other with dumbfounded expressions for a moment until the unicorn spoke. “It is true,” she said before saluting Mjǫllna. “We are honored by your presence. I am—”

“Kynngi Tunglskindóttir, the seer. And you,” said Mjǫllna as she turned and looked to face the herculean earth pony, “must be Megin-gjarð Hǫggsson.”

“You know about us.” said Megin-gjarð, showing Drakkar a snarky grin. “I'm eager to know what you told her about our adventures.”

“We'll have time to discuss that later,” interjected Kynngi with a shake of her head. “Tomorrow is the annual alþing, and all the jarlar and the Konungr are going to be there. Jarl Hríðvetr has grown very impatient for your return, Drakkar.”

“Wait, the alþing?” repeated Drakkar. “That means tomorrow is Friggas-dás, right?”

“The second Friggas-dás of the Summer season, yes. I'm glad that you still know what day you live in after being away for so long,” replied Megin-gjarð, laughing. “But what does it have to do with—”

“Mjǫllna, tomorrow is Friggas-dás!” repeated Drakkar with a broad grin. “I was so concerned about the meeting with the Jarl that I had forgotten about it! If we're lucky, we can start the preparations today!”

“What are you talking about?” asked Megin-gjarð, stroking his beard as he did.

Kynngi’s eyes widened with a gasp. “Don't tell me you—”

“We are planning on marrying, yes,” interjected Drakkar, grabbing Mjǫllna's hoof. “We'll try to make it so we can start the preparations today.”

“Unless you can impress the Jarl enough for him to allow the marriage to take place as part of the alþing, I don't think—”

Ignoring Kynngi, Megin-gjarð threw his hoof over Drakkar's shoulders, pulling the unicorn close to him in a tight grip. “It's about time, old friend!”

“Megin-gjarð, we have honored guests!” scolded Kynngi. “Behave yourself!” She turned to face Mjǫllna, staring at her with a stern grimace. “Please, ignore my fellow guardian's lack of formality.”

Mjǫllna walked back to the chariot, helping her family to get down before thanking the Royal Guards for bringing them, sending their regards back with the guards to Shining Armor and Cadance.

“Well, you better go to meet the Jarl, then,” said Megin-gjarð before releasing Drakkar from the tight embrace. “And good luck with everything.”

“Thanks, Megin-gjarð.” Drakkar then turned to face Kynngi, who kept staring at Mjǫllna with great contempt. “Kynngi, will you be so kind to take Mjǫllna and her family to Gleipna's relatives' longhouse?”

“You're not even going to see your family first?” inquired Megin-gjarð with a raised eyebrow. “I've heard that your nephew was born a couple weeks ago.”

“Don't tell me I missed it!” Drakkar's eyes widened, followed by drooped ears and a slow shake of his head. “I wanted to be there when it happened.”

“Hey, he was looking forward to seeing you,” joked Megin-gjarð, patting Drakkar's back. “Hveiti didn’t have that much of a hard time giving birth, though they were all caught off-guard. The matron said she wasn’t expecting the foal to be born until at least next week. Bless the Æsir for saving you from witnessing that mess, though,” he added before bursting into laughter once more. Drakkar joined him, drawing frowning glares from the females. “That’s better, my friend. Come on, go see your family and tell them you’re back; I'll tell Mjǫllna and her family where you've gone.”

Without a moment to waste, Drakkar nodded and saluted to his friends before rushing inside the walls of Scandineighvia. Mjǫllna glanced up in surprise as he left and begin running after him to try and call him back, stopping short as Megin-gjarð’s broad hoof was held in front of her.

“He's going to see his family and his newborn nephew,” explained Megin-gjarð with a reassuring nod. “His family just won't stop increasing lately,” he added with a laugh.

“And it won't be stopping for a while,” replied Mjǫllna, beaming mischievously.

“Mjǫllna, please!” cried Eldstaðr, barely heard due to Megin-gjarð's loud bursts of laughter.

“Alright, Kynngi will take you to Gleipna's family's longhouse,” explained Megin-gjarð while trying to remain serious. “Drakkar will most likely go to pick you up to tell you if you can marry tomorrow or you'll have to wait until next week.”

“Is it that important to marry on a Friday?” inquired Eldstaðr with a raised eyebrow. “My grandmother didn't mention it at all.”

“Friggas-dás is the day of Frigg, Oðinn's wife and Æsir of marriage,” explained Kynngi bluntly, a snarky grin twisting her muzzle. “All true children of Fimbulvetr worth their name know it. Now follow me,” she added with a guttural, barely contained growl as she walked towards the gate.

“Isn't it great, granny?” said Mjǫlllna with a short hop, her ears perking up in joy. “We're going to meet your cousins and more relatives!” Her family nodded fervently in approval. “Okay, I have to ask Megin-gjarð something. I'll catch you up in a moment.” When both mares left to accompany Kynngi, Mjǫlllna's ears drooped as her smile slowly faded away. She stared at them as they walked away, only turning to look up at Megin-gjarð when they were far enough for them to speak without being overheard. “She still loves Drakkar, doesn't she...”

Megin-gjarð let out a long sigh, closing his eyes as he lowered his head. “Drakkar told you about Gisli, then.”

“He told me everything he thought I should know,” she replied. “Drakkar doesn't know—”

“He's going to marry you, so I'm sure he doesn't,” replied Megin-gjarð soberly as he shook his head. “I'm concerned about what might happen between you two and how Drakkar will react.”

“I will behave, Megin-gjarð.”

However, Megin-gjarð shook his head again, opening his eyes to look at her. “Considering what she just told me, you are not the one I'm worried about messing things up.”


-o-

Drakkar galloped as fast as his legs allowed him, his impatience growing every time a neighbor greeted him and congratulated him about the new family member. Ignoring those who tried to draw his attention, he rushed to his family's longhouse. He smiled broadly as he recognized it; the only one that had two walrus tusks crossed right over the wooden door. Aside from that detail, the whole windowless turf house was topped with a thick layer of living grass, like practically every other house in Scandineighvia. Drakkar couldn't contain a grin at the sight of his home, and it became much wider when he noticed that, due to the nice weather, some small flowers had bloomed all over the roof.

Without another moment to lose, Drakkar ran to the back of the house where they had the small farm. He saw his father, plowing the soil with the help of one of his oxen.

“Father!” cried Drakkar, galloping towards him.

Veiðǫr's ears perked up, turning to face Drakkar. A wide grin formed on his face as he waved at him and pulled the ox's collar to put it to a halt. “Blessed be the Æsir! Hani!” he called towards the opened back door. “Our son has returned!”

An orange pegasus quickly galloped outside, a lock of her golden mane shyly showing from her kerchief. “Drakkar!” cried Hani, taking off towards her son at great speed and hugging him tightly. Her flapping wings lifted both of them in the air. “I've been praying to Þórr to make sure you returned safe and sound!” she said, her voice muffled by his chest as she held him tightly.

“Mother, I don't mind you showing your affection, but please, I'd rather get it with my hooves on the ground,” said Drakkar, wiggling his hind legs in an attempt to touch the ground.

“Oh, sorry, Drakkar.” With a chuckle, Hani lowered her son to safety only to hug him again. “You must really be tired after the trip. I'll cook something for you right now!”

“It's okay, mother, I won't stay long anyways,” he said as he rested a hoof on Hani's shoulder. “I have to go and report to the Jarl.”

“You haven't gone yet?” asked Veiðǫr in astonishment. “What are you waiting for, then?”

“I want to see my nephew,” replied Drakkar, a broad smile brightening his face. “Megin-gjarð told me Hveiti gave birth during my absence.”

“Earlier than even the matrons expected,” said Hani with a chuckle. “I guess he wanted to be ready for when you came back. Come on in; Hveiti and Kljúfa are with the foal.”

The three ponies entered the longhouse as Hani hushed the stallions. When they got to Hveiti's room, they found the younger orange mare sitting on a bench, covering the weeks-old foal with her wings. Next to her stood a sturdy brown earth pony, paying close attention to the newborn. His short red mane was held back in a ponytail, and a bushy mustache covered his upper lip.

At the sight of the newcomers, Hveiti looked up, hushing them with a broad smile before gesturing for them to come closer. She gently moved a wing away to show the tiny pony sleeping on her front legs. Curled like a ball, the light green foal lay in his mother’s lap, only a few crimson strands of mane standing out against his coat.

“His name is Hvæssaðlé,” whispered Hveiti. “We were able to get him to sleep a mere moment ago.”

“You have no idea how loud such a small thing can be,” replied Kljúfa with a sigh. “I don't know how your sister's able to know what he wants. To me, all crying sounds the same!”

Hveiti let out a muffled snort, trying not to wake Hvæssaðle up. “That's why I take care of the foal and the house and you work on the farm with Father,” she replied with a wink.

“Now that you're back,” said Veiðǫr with a strong pat on Drakkar's shoulder, “it's high time for you to find yourself a mare! Hvæssaðlé would certainly love to have a cousin to play with!“

”That would be great!” seconded Hveiti. “You've been putting that off for quite a while now.”

“I guess I've been more focused on my duty, but to be fair...” started Drakkar, caressing the part of the back his father had pounded a moment ago. “I actually wanted to announce something as well as to meet my nephew.” Every single pony in the room focused their attention on Drakkar. He looked around himself, showing an uncomfortable smile. “I... am actually planning on marrying. She—”

“Finally!” cried Veiðǫr in a burst of joy, only to cover his mouth with both hooves as the whole room stared at the already waking foal.


“Father, look at what you've done!” scolded Hveiti while swinging the crying infant. “I'm going to try and get him to sleep again.” Hveiti gestured with a hoof for the rest to leave the room. “But you're going to tell me everything about the wedding when I'm done!” With that, Drakkar and his parents left Hveiti’s bedroom, with Kljúfa remaining to her side.

Even as they walked down the stairs to the living room, the questioning resumed. “Who's this mare, and why have you waited so long to tell us?” asked Hani, flying circles around him, trying to pinch his cheeks and sides. “Were you making up your mind before announcing it? Oh! Maybe you've been having trouble with the dowry!”

“No, Mother, it’s not that,” said Drakkar as he pulled her down and held her. “Though I admit that I'm concerned about the bride-price. Do we really have twelve ounces of silver worth of anything? ”

“You speak as if your old father were a lousy hunter,” said Veiðǫr. His horn started to glow brightly at the same time he looked up, a large chest getting engulfed by his magic aura. The coffer gently flew towards them and landed on the floor right next to Drakkar. “This, my son, is what your family's business has to offer.” Before he finished the last sentence, Veiðǫr opened the chest, revealing the vast amount of valuables inside. Drakkar stared in awe at the animal hides, fangs and claws, recognizing at least half a dozen different kinds, from elks to wolves. “And there's a bigger one where I store the moose antlers and walrus tusks. I'm sure those would be more than enough. Now, tell us who this mare is,” he asked while shutting the chest and eyeing Drakkar, a joyful glint in his eye. “Is it Goðhjarta, or Freisferlar? Yeah, it must be Freisferlar,” added Veiðǫr, nodding as he turned to Hani. “You remember as well as I do how every time that mare turned around Drakkar would always stare at her—”

“Nonono, it's neither Goðhjarta nor Freisferlar,” interjected Drakkar, raising both hooves between he and his father. “And please, I was young when that happened. What would Mjǫllna think if she heard you talking like that?”

Veiðǫr raised an eyebrow, confused. “Mjǫllna?”

Drakkar raised both hooves and shook his head before speaking. “Not the time, father. I'll tell you everything about her, I promise! For now, I must go to talk to the Jarl.”

Crossing his forelegs in front of his strong chest as he sat on one of the room's benches, Veiðǫr let out an annoyed huff before looking up to his son. “Very well, but come back as soon as you finish speaking to the Jarl. We have important rituals to prepare for the wedding.”



-o-

The guards in front of the Jarl's house saluted Drakkar as he reached the door. After returning the salute, the one on the left opened the door for him, and the right one escorted him inside. Despite the Jarl's longhouse being only slightly larger than the average household, it was the inside decoration what marked him as the powerful stallion he once was. Manegol regalia and animal skins had been set across the halls, memories of his past glory as a powerful soldier and hunter. One of the most outstanding pieces of the Jarl's collection was two full sets of Manegol armor displayed atop coarse wooden ponequins, as if they were guardians in front of the throne. Right above where the Jarl was sitting hung two sabres crossed in front of a leather shield.

At the sight of the hófkarl, the elderly Jarl got up slowly from his throne, letting out a loud grunt as he did. The dark gray earth pony walked his way slowly towards the table in front of him. Whatever few strands of mane he had when Drakkar was named Hófkarl had disappeared, a shiny bald head being all that was left. Small silver rings had been slotted to his white mustache, the weight allowing it to hang downwards instead of his usual upwards curling. The beard had been braided under the chin and cheeks, creating a facial fork of virile authority.

“Hófkarl Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson,” greeted Hríðvetr with a smile hidden behind his bushy beard. Both Drakkar and the Jarl saluted each other with the usual hoof on the chest. “You may leave, soldier. The son of Veiðǫr and I have a lot to talk about.” The young guard quickly saluted and trotted back to his place. After the sound of the closing door echoed across the room, Hríðvetr sat on the chair next to him as he let out a pained grunt. “Please, sit, Drakkar,” he said in a less formal tone.

“Thank you, my Jarl,” replied Drakkar with a light bow. “If I may,” he added while sitting down in front of Hríðvetr, “why did you decide to braid your beard?”

“Braids and rings usually have special meanings,” he explained, gently stroking his beard with a growing smile. “Though I must admit that, in my case, it just means that since I lost all my mane I have more time to groom my beard.” Both ponies let out a short chuckle before the Jarl turned serious again and leaned forward on the table. “I don't know what has happened during your travels, but you're a trustworthy soldier I've seen grow and become strong through the years.” The Jarl's ochre-colored eyes scanned Drakkar, who remained nigh motionless in front of him. “Prove that I didn't do wrong in trusting you to this mission.”

“I haven't been wasting my time, my Jarl,” said Drakkar as his right hoof reached under his pelt and pulled out a large bag that he put on the table between himself and Hríðvetr. He quickly opened it before getting both forehooves inside and pulling a massive stack of papers and scrolls. “The scrolls contain the updates in the maps, my Jarl,” he explained as he offered the map of Equestria they had given him. “Including the one of Glerheimr.”

Jarl Hríðvetr raised an eyebrow, staring at Drakkar in disbelief as an awkward silence flooded the longhouse. “I've only read that name in skáldic songs of old,” he said, his cocked eyebrow slowly giving way to an upset frown.

“The ones about how the ferocious Konungr Skuggi took control, yes,” admitted Drakkar with a nod. “But as the mighty Utgarð-Loki did with his city in Jǫtunnheimr, the Crystal Empire, as Equestrians call it, magically disappeared from existence. The only difference is that it returned a short time ago. That's where I came from, and have befriended the new ruler. Now it's just as peaceful as Equestria, and their military doesn't pose a threat to us even if they weren't.”

“And the remaining papers?” inquired Hríðvetr while pointing at the small tower of sheets in front of him.

“All these papers have the most important events in Equestrian history,” announced Drakkar proudly as he pulled even more papers from inside the bulky bag. “There are also documents with all I learned about their gastronomy, their culture and habits, sports and any bit of information that we could consider appropriate to know about them.” As Drakkar spoke, Hríðvetr scanned through the pages with his mouth hanging open. Despite not paying full attention to the reading, he noticed that the documents were full of information—information about devices that the Fimbulvetrian ponies didn’t even know existed and Equestrian had in abundance.

“This is indeed a lot of work, Drakkar,” said Hríðvetr, scratching his bald head as he did. “Though I must admit that I don't think all this would've been necessary to gather at all. We only send a Hófkarl to update maps.”

“And what if I told you, my Jarl, that I have opened the gates for an alliance between Fimbulvetr and Equestria?” inquired Drakkar, resting his weight on the back of his chair while broadly grinning.

“You can't possibly—” Though Hríðvetr started to talk, he stopped in mid-sentence, slowly shaking his head and leaning back. “No, you're a drengr. You've never lied. But how?”

“I've met the rulers of Equestria in their giant fortress in Canterlot,” explained Drakkar, gesturing with his hooves to emphasize the gargantuan dimensions of the building. “They are large mares with wings and horns, and they control the Sun and the Moon. Though I called them Hrim-Faxi and Skin-Faxi, they go there by different names: Celestia and Luna. And they don't pull a chariot with the Sun and the Moon, no. They raise them with their immense magic. They are ageless, immune to the passing of centuries, for their lifespan seems to have no end.” As Drakkar spoke, Jarl Hríðvetr stood nigh motionless, merely blinking in astonishment as he forced his jaw to keep from dropping. “Konungsdóttir Celestia is white like the snowy fields, and her mane is made of the Northern Lights we see during the long, winter nights. And then the younger sister, Konungsdóttir Luna; the second most amazing mare I have ever seen. She was able to speak our language with the fluency of our best poets, and her mane is made of stars that fit her body, dark as the moonless night.” Drakkar took a deep breath, the shaking of his hooves coming to a halt. Hríðvetr tapped the table gently as he waited.

The Jarl looked away from the papers, a smirk drawn on his face as he stared inquisitively at Drakkar. “Who is this mare,” he inquired, “who makes a goddess with a mane made of night sky pale in comparison?” Drakkar's face grew red with embarrassment, his forehooves slightly shaking at the Jarl's words. “I didn't expect you would fall for the charms of an Equestrian mare, much less to consider goddesses inferior to one. Now tell me, Hófkarl, who is this mare to whose charms you fell for?”

“Her name is Mjǫllna Eldstaðsdóttir, descendant of Gleipna Brynhildóttir.”

The Jarl's eyes widened at Drakkar's words, letting himself fall heavily back on the chair. “That's impossible!” he finally cried.

“The Edda sings that she traveled to the South,” replied Drakkar with a shake of his head. “And she was pregnant of her late husband at that time.”

“I am aware of that, Drakkar! I wasn't even in my twenties when she announced she was leaving Fimbulvetr!” Hríðvetr leaned forward, staying as close to Drakkar as possible without looking away from him. “You better have evidence to back your words, Hófkarl. This would be an important discovery for our history!”

“I do have. Mjǫllna bears the úlfsvetir necklace,” he said calmly, “and they keep Gleipna's armor safe in their house. It has everything the stories mentioned. The circlet with welded wings, the chain shirt, the spear with runes painted across its wooden shaft. Everyone in Mjǫllna's family line speaks Scandineighvian, and they've all worked as blacksmiths in Ponyville since Gleipna settled down there. Mjǫllna is her great-granddaughter, and the bloodline is still strong after all these years.”

The Jarl nodded at Drakkar's words, letting a hooffull of papers fall onto the table before speaking. “It is great news, indeed. I'd rather see her with my own eyes, though” he said, still showing his frown. “Only then I'll be convinced that Gleipna's blood runs through her veins.”

“You will be able to do that, my Jarl,” replied Drakkar with a confident smile, “for I brought not only her, but her mother and grandmother as well.”

“And might I ask for the purpose of bringing them here?” asked Hríðvetr with a knowing smile, crossing his forelegs on his chest.

Drakkar's ears drooped slightly, his body shrinking a bit as he fiddled with the papers he'd brought. “I... well, we've been together for a while, and I wanted to have a Fimbulvetrian wedding as my parents did, and their parents before them. I was hoping that you would grant me permission to marry, my Jarl, and allow us to do so as part of the alþing.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Hríðvetr rested his right elbow on the table, tapping it noisily with his hoof. “I'm intrigued, Drakkar,” he said, “that you ask for my permission to marry a mare. That's something you should be asking Veiðǫr. Unless there's something you haven't told me yet.”

“Oh, of course, my Jarl!” Once again, Drakkar pulled a couple of papers from the bag and offered them to Hríðvetr. “I also set the possibility to open trade routes between—”

The Jarl pushed the treaty aside without looking away from the surprised Drakkar. “No, Hófkarl. I want to know why you’re asking for my permission.”


Drakkar took a deep breath, staring at Hríðvetr for a moment before speaking. “My Jarl, I'm considering moving to Equestria with Mjǫllna's family once the wedding—”

“No.”

The Jarl's blunt answer sank Drakkar on the spot. “My Jarl, I—”

“There's nothing else to be said,” interjected Hríðvetr coldly. “You are not leaving our homeland. Your homeland. You're a soldier at my service, and you've been flawless so far. And now that a mare steps in front of you, you want to throw everything away?”

“I'm not saying that I want to forsake my heritage or anything like that, my Jarl,” insisted Drakkar, raising his hooves in front of him. “But I could still be a mediator between the two kingdoms! Nopony in Fimbulvetr knows more about Equestria than me!”

“And that's enough for you to put all our achievements away and move to a land where you’ll be just a nopony?” inquired Hríðvetr as he got up from the table, throwing a challenging glare at Drakkar. “Are you really going to put everything you worked so hard to get aside for a mare?”

To the Jarl's surprise, Drakkar shrunk, his drooped ears showing his true feeling behind his gritted teeth. Hríðvetr kept eye contact from his upper position, his frown becoming deeper every second that the unicorn didn't move from his place. Drakkar's ears slowly leaned back as he let out a soft growl and got up. Even at eye level, Drakkar didn’t return the Jarl’s challenging glare. “For her?” he replied quietly. “Yes.”

An uncomfortable silence followed Drakkar's words before the Jarl spoke. “You are determined.” To Drakkar's surprise, Hríðvetr's facial features relaxed, leaving no trace of the previous anger. “Very well, if you are to marry and want my permission, you have it,” he continued as he sat down to continue reading the last papers Drakkar had offered him, and then showed a humble smile. “And my blessings as well.”

Drakkar stood, staring dumbfounded at Hríðvetr. “I'm afraid that I don't understand what just happened, my Jarl.”

“There must be conviction in a stallion's words and decisions,“ explained Hríðvetr. “This is not an arranged marriage we're talking about, Drakkar. You're marrying because you are in love. You must be strong, not only in body, but in mind as well if you expect to be a husband who takes pride on being called one. If you can challenge me, your own Jarl, for her, I know that you're at least serious about this. I expect no less from my personal guard,” he added with a short laugh as he resumed reading the papers. “I'm sure you've done the arrangements for the required payments.”

“I have something in mind, yes,” replied Drakkar with a nod. “My father's shown me the pelts, fangs, claws, antlers and tusks he's gathered. Even for Gleipna's heir, it should be enough.”

“In that case I'll do what I can to make sure your wedding will take place tomorrow,” said the Jarl. “However,” he added as he raised a hoof, “I'll do it only on one condition.”

“And what would that condition be, my Jarl?” inquired Drakkar, raising an eyebrow.

“I will pull some strings to make sure the other jarlar and the Konungr meet earlier,” he explained while checking the last papers he was offered. “Considering everything you have achieved, you are most likely going to receive a generous reward that will suit your wedding's dowry. How many witnesses do you have set for now?”

“I know my father and brother-in-law will come, as I'm sure Megin-gjarð will gladly join as well.” Drakkar looked at the ceiling, tipping his chin as he tried to think of more stallions. “Probably Fastrrás too, which makes a total of four witnesses out of six. But what does it have to—”

“I will be one of the witnesses, and Captain Brim-sker will be more than pleased to attend to one of his former soldiers' wedding, filling the required needs for it to take place,” he said with a wide smile.

Drakkar's jaw dropped as his eyes threatened to pop out. “M-my Jarl, you— I— that would be a great honor.”

“No, Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson,” corrected Hríðvetr with a shake of his head. “What you have achieved this day, not only starting diplomatic treaties with Equestria, but also finding the heirs of Gleipna Bryhildóttir... Though I'm sure the latter gave you an excuse to go for the former,” he added with a mocking tone.

“It was quite a coincidence, I must admit that,” said Drakkar with a shrug as he tried to cover his obvious blush. “It's true that when I found her, I remembered the part of the story about Gleipna moving South. But even with that, I'm really thinking that the Æsir had planned this all along.”

“I can't deny the surprising coincidence,” seconded the Jarl with an approving nod. “Very well, now that this is sorted out, I'll send messengers to the other jarlar to take into consideration the alliance and trading with Equestria. As for the rest, tell Mjǫllna to start the preparations. And you should start with those too.”

“It will be done, my Jarl!” he replied with a salute before trotting his way out of the Jarl's house.



-o-

Kynngi guided Mjǫllna and her family across the roads of Scandineighvia. Despite the differences with Equestria, the mares smiled at the odd familiarity of their surroundings. The longhouses were easily distinguishable from one another with few outer decoration that went from shattered shields to specific flowers grown on the roofs. Ponies strolled across streets, mostly ignoring the mares, though a few nodded and gave them a quick wave as they walked past them.

During the trip, Mjǫllna and Kynngi walked together, keeping each other's pace. Vínviðr and Eldstaðr remained slightly behind, whispering between themselves.

“I don't like how this is going,” said Vínviðr, keeping her voice low, making sure Kynngi didn't overhear them.

“I agree, mother. What do you think Mjǫllna talked about with that huge pony back there?” asked Eldstaðr, keeping her attention on the unicorn mare as well.

“Both Megin-gjarð and Kynngi are Drakkar's friends, so I'm assuming they're playing protective roles,” she said with a quick shrug.

Eldstaðr replied to her mother with a shake of her head. “I can see that on Kynngi, but Megin-gjarð seemed perfectly okay with all this.”

“We're here,” said Kynngi coldly as she pointed at the longhouse in front of her.

Slightly smaller than the average longhouse, Gleipna's family's house had a vast amount of outer decoration. The building itself had an improvised fence made entirely of broken spears. Fully functional wooden shields decorated its grass-covered walls. Despite being in perfect condition, they were only used as ornaments, and nopony had dared to take one of those, even in times of need. Over the main door, acting as an eternal guardian, rested the stuffed head of a large wolf, showing its teeth in a silent, never ending growl. The three mares stared in awe at the imposing building.

“I'm so looking forward to meeting my relatives!” cried Vínviðr happily with a hop and a wiggle of her tail.

“Me too! Come on, Mjǫllna!” said Eldstaðr as both mares rushed to knock on the door.

As Mjǫllna walked with her family, Kynngi walked away letting out a low grunt. “A crossbreed bride, just what Drakkar needed,” she muttered loud enough for the mare to hear it.

Mjǫllna's ears laid back as she frowned and gritted her teeth. “You go, mother, granny,” she said as she took a step back.

“Is everything okay, sweetie?” inquired Vínviðr, turning to her with concern on her face.

“You two have fun, I have something to take care of.” With that, Mjǫllna pushed her family in front of the door, knocking on it. She waited behind them with a wide smile as a mare opened the door, inviting them in without a second thought. A short chuckle escaped her lips as she remembered Drakkar’s mentions about Fimbulvetrian hospitality. Once the door closed in front of her, Mjǫllna’s smile faded away, turning to face  Kynngi. “Do you have any issues with my mixed blood, seer?”

“A paragon of Fimbulvetrian ponydom deserves a pure mare of the North,” replied Kynngi, looking down at Mjǫllna as she spoke.

“I might not be the mare Drakkar deserves according to you,” said Mjǫllna, showing a confident smile before resuming. “Yet I am the mare Drakkar wants, and you should respect his decision.”

“What do you, who have come to the Northern lands for the first time, know about being a Fimbulvetrian wife?” asked Kynngi with disdain, stalking in circles around the earth pony mare.

“I'm sure my Scandineighvian family will teach me what I need to know.” She followed Kynngi with her eyes, frowning. “But this is more than just concern about knowing how to be a wife or not,” she added, stepping in front of Kynngi. “You assume I am not worthy because I am a crossbreed.”

“You are the heir of Gleipna's bloodline, that is undeniable,” admitted Kynngi without backing away, keeping his eyes locked with Mjǫllna's. “You speak with adequate fluency, and that's not something true outsiders can master easily. However, you are tainted by the softer lands of the South, in Equestria.”

“Gleipna settled down there, and she raised her daughter within the Fimbulvetrian traditions,” stated Mjǫllna proudly. “She did the same with her own daughter, and I was raised following the same traditions. Yes, I was born in Equestria, but I am a Fimbulvetrian at heart as much as you are!”

“Don't make a fool out of yourself thinking that!” cried Kynngi, her forehead pushing Mjǫllna back.

“Drakkar loves me, and I love him!” Mjǫllna kept eye contact with her, forcing Kynngi's head back with her own. “And you should respect that decision, unrequited feelings or not!”

Kynngi's horn shone menacingly as she let out a guttural snarl. “Be careful about what you say, crossbreed!” she growled. “You know nothing about what happened!”

“I know everything about your love for my stallion,” replied Mjǫllna. Instead of stepping back, though, she showed a challenging smirk, pushing her forehead against Kynngi’s. “And you don't see me taunting you for having tried to start something with Drakkar. I can't say I blame you,” she added playfully, much to Kynngi's seething anger. “But he chose me, and I accepted. If you're concerned about my heritage, I told you I was raised as a Fimbulvetrian pony, and I have the strength to bend metal to my bidding, as Gleipna and my family has done ever since we settled down.”

With a disgruntled huff, Kynngi looked away, the magic around her horn quickly fading away. “Very well, but I will keep an eye on you,” she said, a devilish smirk drawn on her face.

Mjǫllna raised an eyebrow. “You expect me to do something?”

“I do.” Kynngi's tone sounded gloomy, shaking her head as she walked away. “You've already achieved something I couldn't: You got love from him. You made him smile broadly and behave like a joyful colt again.” She slowly turned to face Mjǫllna, her frown again on her face. “You are aware that I will make sure you feel the wrath of a seer if you ruin him in any way, right?”

“At least you're being more permissive,” said Mjǫllna with a chuckle.

“Drakkar wouldn't want it otherwise,” replied Kynngi. “If he's sure about this, I will assist with the wedding.”

Mjǫllna's ears dropped slightly, keeping eye contact with Kynngi while dragging her hoof against the ground. “Are you sure about that? I know it must be hard to do this.”

“If you are to be his wife, I'll instruct you during the preparations so you don't mess it up,” said Kynngi with a mocking gaze. “You might be raised as a Fimbulvetrian, but aside from Gleipna, nopony in your family has had a Fimbulvetrian wedding, and Drakkar seems more than eager to marry like his ancestors before him.”

Mjǫllna looked over Kynngi's shoulder and noticed Drakkar galloping towards them from the distance. ”Well, there he is!“ she said with a wide grin. “Let's see what he has to say!”

As she spoke, Kynngi turned to look at Drakkar, giving him an informal nod when he arrived. “I hope the Jarl wasn't too severe with you. What did he tell you?”

Drakkar replied by raising a hoof at first, panting heavily. “I... I...” he tried to say in vain.

“Drakkar, calm down,” said Mjǫllna, concern coloring her voice. “Wait until you recover and then talk.”

After taking a deep breath and wiping the sweat from his forehead, Drakkar finally spoke. “The wedding... the wedding will take place tomorrow.” Mjǫllna showed an even wider grin, the back of her dress shaking frantically as her tail wiggled. Drakkar then rested his hoof on Kynngi's shoulder, his breathing slowly returning to normal. “Can you assure me that Fastrrás will come as a witness?”

“Huh?” Kynngi blinked for a moment, shocked at the question. After her lips moved for a moment without giving out a word, she nodded at his question. “S-sure, I'll tell him. I'm certain he won't decline.”

“Good, the witnesses are covered them,” said Drakkar, sitting on the ground, letting out a relaxed huff as he did.

“You have the six witnesses already?” inquired Kynngi in disbelief. “You have your father, Megin-gjarð, your brother-in-law and now Fastrrás. Who are the other two?”

“Our former instructor, Captain Brim-sker and Jarl Hríðvetr himself.” Drakkar chuckled as both mares stared at him with dropped jaws. “That was my very same reaction.”

“The Jarl must want to give you something, but what?” asked Kynngi. “What have you offered him to make him not only accept getting you married tomorrow, but also be one of the witnesses?”

“It's true that Drakkar worked really hard back in Ponyville,” said Mjǫllna. “He spent a lot of time in the library doing research about Equestria.”

Drakkar stared at Kynngi with a concerned look on his face, shaking his head before speaking. “I don't know what he has in mind. He said something about pulling strings to meet with the other Jarlar and the Konungr earlier. Anyways,” he added as he got up with a quick jump. “I have to go home and get ready for the wedding. Kynngi, can I trust to with helping Mjǫllna get prepared for tomorrow?”

“You can count on me, Drakkar,” assured Kynngi with a hoof on her chest. “She'll be ready for tomorrow.”

Drakkar took a step forward, surrounding Kynngi with his forelegs in a tight hug that she returned instinctively. “I knew I could count on you,” he said with a smile, both hooves resting on Kynngi's shoulders. “I'm going to get ready as well. You two take care.”

After bidding both mares farewell, Drakkar turned around and galloped to his house. Mjǫllna stared at Kynngi for a moment as the unicorn shook her head with a grim look on her face. “You didn't even hesitate. Why?”

“He's my friend, and I'm already married,” she replied. “It wouldn't have made sense to speak against you.” Kynngi looked at Mjǫllna, showing a mischievous smirk. “Though I would've preferred that he had chosen a pure bride nonetheless.”

“You really don't like me bring a crossbreed, right?” inquired Mjǫllna with a gaze of fake annoyance.

Kynngi shook her head at the earth mare's words. “I'm talking about the other kind of purity.”

To those words, Mjǫllna's face turned bright red, letting out a loud gasp. “You did not just imply what I think you did!”

“Then explain to me,” said Kynngi calmly as she tapped Mjǫllna's forehead, “why you aren't wearing your kransen.”

“My—” Mjǫllna's eyes opened widely, reaching her head with a hoof. “Oh, the circlet! I'm really sorry, we don't wear tokens like that in Equestria.”

“And how do you know when a mare has been—”

“Married before?” Kynngi replied with a nod, to which the blacksmith shrugged. “It doesn't matter. I know there are a lot of arranged marriages here but, in Equestria, we can choose freely. A widow or a divorced mare isn't less worthy just because of that. And I'm sure a promiscuous mare might have less trouble finding a suitor,” she added with a chuckle.

Kynngi looked away as she tried to hold back her own laughter. “I guess you're right. So you've never—”

“Never. I'm pure in that aspect,” assured Mjǫllna.

“Very well,” replied Kynngi with a nod. “Do you have the kransen around, by any chance?”

“We brought some luggage,” said Mjǫllna as she pointed at the house, “and I think my grandmother brought it with her. Is it important?”

“Well, if you are a pure bride, part of the ritual involves you getting stripped of everything that represents your maiden status, including the kransen,” she explained as she drew circles in the air with her hoof. “I guess that you could use one of the circles you family isn't using, if only for the ritual's sake.”

Mjǫllna nodded with a smile. “Very well, then.” She turned around as she gestured Kynngi to follow her. “Come on, we have to get ready. I'm sure there's a lot to do.”



-o-

The instant Mjǫllna and Kynngi entered the longhouse, the scent of boiled cabbage greeted them—almost as quickly as Eldstaðr and Vínviðr did, galloping up with palpable excitement.

“Our relatives are preparing a feast for us!” cried Eldstaðr, hugging her daughter tightly as she did. When she released Mjǫllna from her her vise-like grip, the pegasus tenderly rested her hooves on the earth pony's shoulders. ”We told them about Gleipna and showed her the circlet she used during her maiden years. The edda's description was crystal clear, and they recognized it right after they saw it!” Next to them, Kynngi relaxed noticeably, and Mjǫllna responded with an “I told you so” smirk.

“The wedding will take place tomorrow during the alþing,” announced Kynngi, unable to hold a smile back at Mjǫllna's family's beaming grins. From the other end of the house, loud gasps were heard, and soon a couple of fillies rushed outside of the kitchen, galloping to meet the bride.

After a short and trivial conversation, the remaining mares began bringing plates of food. The strongest scent came from the boiled cabbages they set in the middle of the table for everypony to reach. Spineless fish fried in their own oil were served across the sides of the table. Right in front of each seat, they put a small loaf of bread made with honey and nuts. For dessert, outside of the table so the young colts and fillies couldn't reach it before they finished eating, they had pears cut in perfect halves. They had removed the inside of it and had filled them with berries, covering it with a paste they'd made out of the pears' insides, to which they had added a pinch of cinnamon.

Though Mjǫllna and her family weren't used to eating animals of any kind, they politely accepted the servings and slowly took their first bites. Their reactions went from idle disgust before trying it to a pleasant smile once they tasted the food.

“By Gjallarhorn, these are delicious!” exclaimed Vínviðr, giving a quick clap as she spoke. “My most humble congratulations, my dear.”

“It is an honor to receive such kind words from our heroine's direct daughter,” said the older mare while gently bowing. The large, green earth mare rested one of her chubby forelegs heavily on the table, her wide aquamarine eyes shining at the presence of Gleipna's relatives. “As the current matron in charge of this famed longhouse, I shall make sure that our lucky bride has everything set for her wedding.”

“I really appreciate your kindness, uh...” Mjǫllna stopped speaking, blushing as she showed a sheepish grin. “I apologize, but I'm afraid I didn't catch your name.”

“Oh, my, where are my manners?” asked the mare, blushing herself as well. “I am Saðmatr. As I said, I'm the current matron of this house. I am the eldest granddaughter of Gleipna's older sister, Heiðbrunnr. And you, Mjǫllna Eldstaðsdóttir, are here to marry, as I've been told.”

Mjǫllna nodded profusely, putting the empty plate aside. “Yes, that's right. I am marrying Hókfarl Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson.” Aside from her mother, grandmother and Kynngi, every single mare in the room began whispering to each other, some letting out loud gasps of astonishment as they stared at her. “Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing at all, Mjǫllna,” said Saðmatr with a quick shake of her hoof. “Not everypony can choose a hófkarl as a life partner. You are a very lucky mare,” she added with a broad smile that emphasized her plump cheeks.

“Thank you, matron Saðmatr,” replied Mjǫllna with a bow. “If I may ask, since we haven't had a Fimbulvetrian wedding since Gleipna moved to Equestria, could you tell me what I'm going to go through?”

Saðmatr shook her hoof, showing a wide smile as she offered Mjǫllna another serving. “Don't worry about that, my dear. I've assisted all the mares in my family with their wedding rituals since I was qualified to do so.” Before she could finish the last sentence, she grabbed the tray with the boiled cabbage and offered it to Mjǫllna. “For now, my dear, enjoy our feast. Then we'll talk. I want to know about this warm, southern land of Equestria.”

The mares ate cheerfully as they shared anecdotes of both lands, unaware of how time was flying. The chewing of food was always deafened by either the words of a pony or the chorus of laughter of the others. Saðmatr and Mjǫllna led the conversation, taking turns exchanging stories as everypony enjoyed a jovial lunch. Before they could notice, the afternoon had become evening, and the reddish orange light shyly came under the door.

As Saðmatr noticed the upcoming sunset, the mare let out a loud gasp. “By Brisingamen!” she cried. “Look at the time! We have to start the preparations! Get Mjǫllna ready!” She got up and began pointing at every mare in the room and assigning chores. ”Fillies, you'll do the dishes. You two will get the crown and the preparations for tomorrow morning.” She then focused her attention on Mjǫllna and her family.

Vínviðr had taken Gleipna's circlet from one of her saddlebags. A wonderfully crafted piece of jewelry, entirely made of silver and decorated with a cut amber fragment encrusted in the middle. Ancient runes had been carved on it, which read 'Hamarr ok steði', a symbol of the blacksmithing tradition that had run through Mjǫllna's family's bloodline far longer than anypony could reckon. The bride humbly lowered her head and closed her eyes as Vínviðr put the circlet on, only opening them when she felt the slightly cold touch of silver on her forehead.

Saðmatr gave her an approving nod before resuming her talking. “Now that you're ready, follow me to the bath-house,” she said as one of the mares brought her a small basket with linen towels. “We'll explain everything there. Your family must come and help us with bathing you.”

The three mares stared at each other, exchanging astonished looks at first, but nodded and followed Saðmatr obediently. The bath-house she had mentioned wasn't far from the house but, to Mjǫllna and her family, it looked more like a sauna than a typical bath. It had several wooden tubs of water, soap for cleaning and even a steam room. As Saðmatr arrived, she put a few stones in the center of the room, where they would heat and provide steam when sprinkled with water. Once she was done with a basic explanation of what had to be done during the ritual, she solemnly removed Mjǫllna's circle and wrapped it in an exquisitely sewn crimson kerchief.

“Keep it safe, Mjǫllna,” said Saðmatr as she gave her the wrapped ornament. “You shall offer this to your first-born filly, as all the mares in our family had done before you.” Saðmatr then turned to Mjǫllna's family with a relaxed smile. “Now we have to strip her from her clothes; the steam bath will both wash away her maiden status and prepare her for tomorrow's wedding rituals.”

Mjǫllna's mother and grandmother walked around her, each one flanking her on either side. As she stood on her hind legs, both mares helped her take off the gala dress, pulling it up and carefully folding it and putting it aside. Saðmatr pointed at one of the smaller wooden tubs of water, which Eldstaðr picked up and rested under the artificial waterfall. As Mjǫllna's mother patiently waited for the tub to get filled, Vínviðr sprinkled the heated stones with water, summoning a large steam cloud that engulfed the room.

“Hear my advice, soon-to-be-wife,” said Saðmatr with a raised hoof, calling the mares' attention. As she spoke, Mjǫllna switched herself with a bundle of birch twigs. “The inside of the house is our kingdom; it's where we rule and what we must take care of, while the husband takes care of everything outside it.” The three mares nodded at Saðmatr's words, though they exchanged dimly annoyed gazes that the matron didn’t notice. “A strong stallion always has a wise mare to assist him. The gnomic wisdom I offer will make you a valuable wife in everypony's eyes. Stallions are fond of thinking with their sword, and—”

Saðmatr trailed off when Mjǫllna giggled, to which the matron playfully rolled her eyes before letting out a sigh. “Not that sword, Mjǫllna.” After a short, collective chuckle from the rest of the mares, the matron cleared her throat. “What I’m trying to say is that a stallion guided by his honor won't hesitate to spill the blood of whoever wronged him. You, as the wife, must make sure that he won't make hasty decisions that would end up in unneeded slaughter. But you must also incite him to fight for your family's honor if he overlooks an obvious insult.”

“I understand, Saðmatr,” replied Mjǫllna, looking at the matron as she walked towards the tub he had requested to fill with water.

Putting it away from under the waterfall, Saðmatr took the small pouch that hung by her side and picked a sturdy vial from it, filled with an oil-like liquid. “As all the brides before you,” she continued while sinking the tip of her hoof in the water. She shook her hoof to dry it before opening the vial and emptying it inside. “Have you read or heard about the Sigrdrífumál?” she asked as she turned to face Mjǫllna, receiving a shake of her head as the only reply. “It's an Edda that contains certain runic knowledge that the wife must learn,” she resumed, showing a reassuring smile as she did. “Glyphs of power to plead to Frigg, Freyr and Freyja.”

“I'm ready, Saðmatr,” said Mjǫllna, turning to the matron, who was sprinkling the tub with mashed flowers and herbs.

When she was done, the chubby mare walked next to the bride, drawing small runes on the sand as she spoke. “This is the rune of victory,” she explained while making an arrow-like symbol in front of her. “Write them in your husband's sword hilt, furrow and flat, with two calls on Tyr if you want your husband to win. This one,” she continued, drawing a different rune while ignoring Mjǫllna's confused expression, “is the rune of ale. It will make sure that draught won't bewitch him if another mare offers him to drink. You must inscribe them on his drinking horn and hooves, and cast a leek in his cup. Learn also the birth runes, which are like this. Once you write them on the bottom of his hooves and around his joints, plead to the fates and you shall receive.”

“Are you sure you can remember all that, Mjǫllna?” asked Eldstaðr, scratching the back of her head. “I already forgot where you had to inscribe the Tyr runes on.”

A chuckle escaped Saðmatr's lips before she shook her hoof. “I can write it down later after we're done.” She then checked Mjǫllna, who was still paying close attention to her every move. “Now, wave-runes,” she resumed while inscribing said symbols as she had previously done, “are to keep him safe if he travels across the sea. On both the stem, and steering blade you must write them, and burn them in his oars. No matter how black the the waves or high the breakers, he'll return safe to harbor. To take care of his wounds, you shall inscribe these branch-runes on the bark and the trees with boughs bent eastward.” With a couple passes of her hoof, she erased the runes, only to write new ones that she explained at the same speed. “Learn also the speech-runes, so none may answer harm with hate. They will allow him to weave his words and give his voice strength at the þing. And for him to be the keenest minded of all, use these thought-runes on him.”

Saðmatr turned to face Mjǫllna, who replied with a silent nod of approval and a reassuring smile. Without a word, the matron walked back to the tub of water she had been mixing ingredients in. After closing her eye and taking a deep sniff and showing a wide, sated grin, she turned around and emptied it whole all over the loudly gasping bride, whose ears instinctively folded back. The chilling water made her shiver, wrapping her forelegs around herself as her teeth chattered . “W-what was that about?!” she cried as she turned around with a frown that was hastily replaced by a grim expression. “You could've warned me before doing—” She trailed off when the scent of the mixture engulfed her, ears perking up in mild curiosity. “What's this smell?”

“The cold water will close the pores of your skin,” explained Saðmatr while holding back a chuckle. “As for the smell, it's due to the mix of oil, flowers and herbs I've used with the water. It's used during this part of the ceremony not only to cleanse your body and wash your maiden status away.” Saðmatr paused for a moment to show a wide, brazen smile that made the three mares look at each other, ears perked up to not miss a word. “But it also has aphrodisiac and fertility-encouraging properties.”

Eldstaðr and Vínviðr looked stared blankly at Mjǫllna, who had an approving grin drawn on her face. “So that's how it's going to be,” she added, sweeping the sand below her with every playful swing of her tail.

“Mjǫllna!” cried Eldstaðr, followed by Vínviðr's loud laughter.

“Oh, come on, Eldstaðr! You didn't hesitate about making me a grandma,” replied Vínviðr with a mocking smirk. “Afraid of feeling too old because of it?”

“What? No!” Eldstaðr's ears folded back as she violently shook her head. “I won't! I'm not even forty yet! I'm far from old!”

“Come on, girls,” said Saðmatr, waving a hoof in the air. “We have to leave so the groom can come to wash his bachelor status as well.”

“Really?” asked Mjǫllna with a cocked eyebrow. “Why can't I be with him? You know, we're going to marry so I thought this would bind us together.”

“That's what the wedding is for, Mjǫllna,” explained Saðmatr. “Before he comes here, though, there's something else he must do.”

The four mares walked outside the bath-house, lost in casual chatting. Saðmatr was explaining the last details of the wedding when Kynngi, who had stayed outside, walked in front of them. Her cold stare was focused on Mjǫllna.

“If I may,” she said quietly, “I would like to speak with the lucky bride for a moment.”

Mjǫllna frowned at the seer in reply. “I'll see you all back at home.” Though hesitant at first, Saðmatr led Vínviðr and Eldstaðr back to their house. Mjǫllna waited until her relatives were out of hearing reach to talk again. “I assume you aren't here to wish me luck.”

“At least you are smart enough to notice. Now keep this in mind, crossbreed.” As Kynngi got closer to Mjǫllna, hatred rasped her voice as she spoke. “You aren't worthy. You aren't good enough for him. And there's nothing in the Nine Realms you can do to make me change my mind. Remember that.”

“Why are you insisting on this?” Mjǫllna stomped the ground, ears folded back. “Why can't you focus being happy for your friend instead of demonizing me? Besides, I'm learning the ways! My grandmother is a pure Scandineighvian, and they taught me how to behave! Isn't that enough for you?”

“You weren't born here; this just isn't your place, descendant of Fimbulvetrians or not.” Kynngi turned away, looking at Mjǫllna with a snarky grin. “You'll dishonor both families attending to the wedding. And considering that the Jarl himself is coming as well, you'll have to feign being Scandineighvian more than ever. Do you really think you'll be able to do it without shattering Drakkar's reputation?”

“That won't happen!” Mjǫllna's folded ears and shivering body betrayed her, getting an even wider grin from Kynngi.

“See you tomorrow at the wedding, crossbreed.”

Mjǫllna stood on the spot with her head lowered as Kynngi left. Barely able to hold her tears back, she walked to her relatives' house to get everything ready for tomorrow.



-o-

“The things I have to do for love,” grunted Drakkar as he strolled through the outside of the city.

The stars and the moon lit the land, the stallion's only company was the fierce wind howling around him. When Hani told him that one of the requirements to become suitable for marriage was overcoming a trial to become a full-fledged stallion, he wasn't expecting this. He had been one of the witnesses during Kynngi's wedding with Fastrrás, and they didn't tell him about having to break into a grave to recover his family's sword. Aside from the fact that his own father had to get the blade, Drakkar wasn't able to understand why the weapon was buried again. However, even though he was far from happy with the idea of desecrating a tomb, he was forced to go through the ordeal if he was to marry. The map his family had made guided him through the quiet tundra that surrounded the city, the references and legends inside preparing him for his macabre task.

At least if I move back to Equestria, thought Drakkar, ears pointing forward, the furious draugr won't be able to hunt me down. And the Konungsdótti will protect us.

When he finally reached his destination, it was obvious that there was only one small patch of land where recent digging had taken place. Even in the dead of night he could see that there was a part where grass and ground had been dug up and hastily put down again with little to no care of being discreet about it.

“This can't be...” started Drakkar as he took a peek at the map again, double checking the references marked on it. To the right of the mound rested a large boulder that had been shattered by a growing root of the tree next to it. When he walked in front of the torn stone and looked in the mound's direction, he noticed that Mount Ymir, the tallest mountain in the Frozen North, could barely be spotted among the trees of the nearby forest. “Apparently it is,” he said with a dumbfounded expression before staring at the coarse grave mound. “Who in my family died that recently? And what horrible deeds did they perform to deserve being buried so far away from the city's graveyard?”

He stood motionless for a moment, staring at the mound with a disgusted expression. After a short while, Drakkar slowly walked towards it, checking his surroundings after every few steps.

“Okay,” he said to himself, letting out a long, uncomfortable huff as he did. “Let's get this done.”

He sank his hooves into the mound, frantically digging as fast as his strength allowed him. While focusing his eyes and hooves on the grave, his ears turned around like crazy, acting as radars to detect anything that gets close to him. Every now and then he looked through the corner of his eyes. hoping that no patrols came to check what was going on. No matter if this was apparently a common event in wedding rituals, desecrating tombs was far from what Drakkar wanted to be spotted doing.

Surprisingly, the grave was quite shallow, so it didn't take long for Drakkar to uncover a wooden plank underneath the dirt. A relieved sigh escaped his lips as he jumped down, his joy fading away as he found no corpse inside. Instead, there was only a small wooden box in front of him. His ears drooped and his breathing became more ragged as he looked around him. If the unyielding ancestor had walked through the ground as draugar were supposed to do, there was no trace of the passage at all. His ears perked up at the sound of his own heartbeats. He violently opened the container, finding his father's sword inside.

Drakkar stared at the weapon with widened eyes. “What's going on here!” he cried, furiously kicking the box away.

He covered his mouth with his free hoof, ears perked up and scanning the area. Behind him, the sound of bushes shaking far away became louder by the second. Drakkar kept his sword ready on his hoof, clenching it as the mist covered the area. He turned around, keeping the sword ready to attack as his ears frantically twisted to find the source of the noise.

“The draugr is here,” he whispered between his chattering teeth and loud, heavy breathing.

Drakkar turned around and jumped out of the grave, hiding the sword under his pelt before turning to gallop back to town. However, as he was looking towards the forest behind him, he didn't see the silhouette that stood right in front of him. Drakkar collided with the mysterious form, throwing both to the ground.

“What in the Nine Realms did I—” growled Drakkar as he got up, only to grow pale at the monstrosity that rose before him.

Covered in tattered clothing and a rusty helmet that covered the upper part of his face, a unicorn stallion growled mournfully as he tried to get up. A spear with a shattered wooden shaft and cut stone head lay next to it. His face was covered in blood and bruises, with seaweed wrapped around what little mane the helmet didn't cover. When the mangled pony finally stood up, matching Drakkar's size, the soon-to-be groom's ears drooped, his mouth moving slowly, yet no sound coming out of it. The creature's attempt to approach Drakkar made him jump back with a scream, accidentally falling in the grave again. Quickly recovering, he crawled to the farthest end of the mound, unsheathing the sword and pointing it at the unicorn.

“S-s-stay away from me, draugr!” stuttered Drakkar, the sword shaking in his magical grasp.

As Drakkar lay in the tomb, the stallion in ragged clothing stepped forward, staring at him. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the draugr began to shake slightly, rocking back and forth, and suddenly burst out in laughter, much to Drakkar's confusion. The stallion then removed his helmet, wiping his forehead as he showed a condescending smile.

“I didn't expect you to react that way,” said the stallion, offering his hoof to help Drakkar get out of the hole.

Drakkar blinked in astound for a few seconds, unable to put the pieces together. “Father?” he was able to ask, shaking his head in disbelief. “But... but... the mist!”

Veiðǫr looked up, showing a comforting smile as he did. “I can assure you that wasn't planned at all. Though I guess that didn't make it better for you.”

Drakkar slowly sheathed the sword, walking cautiously towards his father and accepting his help to get out of the fake grave. “Okay, now would you mind explaining what in the Nine Realms is going on here?!” inquired Drakkar, violently waving his hooves in the air. “Why are you dressed like that!?”

“This was the ritual,” explained Veiðǫr calmly as he magically lifted the shattered spear from the ground. “We buried your grandfather's sword in this mock-tumulus, and you had to come here to recover it. The descent into the grave to recover the sword is a symbolic death and rebirth for you, the groom. You've left your bachelor past in the grave, and you've risen as the future husband you'll become.”

“And where does the part where you try to scare me to death come into play?!” screamed Drakkar, to which Veiðǫr replied with a shake of his hoof.

“This isn't meant to scare you, though I admit that it worked better than expected,” he replied with a chuckle, regaining composure as Drakkar refused to show any kind of amusement. “This part is the one where a relative dressed as an ancestor teaches you about the importance of our heritage.”

“You could've warned me about all this, you know?” Drakkar grunted, walking towards the boulder, followed closely by his father. “I would've done this anyway if I knew it was all a hoax.”

“We expected you to show the courage of your family,” said Veiðǫr. He stood patiently in front of Drakkar, who sat on the rock and rested the sword on the ground.

“And how didn't I hear you until you were right there?” asked Drakkar with a frown.

Veiðǫr replied with a frown. “I trained you to become a hunter and fisherpony. We are able to get close enough to our prey. I'm surprised you have to ask that” Drakkar's ears drooped slightly, but his father shook his hoof and showed a soothing smile. “It doesn't matter, son. In the midst of this confusion and terror, sometimes basic knowledge gets forgotten. Now listen, my son, for this is important,” he continued, turning to a much more sober tone. “Our family dates back centuries, when Scandineighvia was only a city instead of the capital of the kingdom we are now. We've been hunters and gatherers since our history can be traced, and we've been one of the biggest food suppliers the city has, and we're proud of that!”

Drakkar looked away with a shameful expression, letting out a defeated sigh. “That just makes the fact that I was planning on returning to Equestria after the wedding much harder.”

Veiðǫr's proud expression slowly twisted into a disappointed frown. “I see,” he said, resting his weight on the spear as he looked down to the ground. “Your mother doesn't know about this, does she?”

“Not yet. Neither does Hveiti,” replied Drakkar.

“You come after two months with a mare we don't even know, and yet you want to leave to never return? You don't even tell us about it!”

“I'm almost thirty, father,” grunted Drakkar, leaning on one of the tree roots that had shattered the boulder. “I'm sure I can make my own decisions already.”

“What about us?” insisted Veiðǫr. “You’d move to a different place, never to see us again!”

“Of course I'll come back! You're my family after all!”

“You won't stay even for your newborn nephew?” asked Veiðǫr, pointing at Drakkar with the spear. “That's how much you wanted to see him?”

Drakkar carefully pushed the spear away, keeping eye contact with his father. “Hvæssaðlé is a wonderful foal, Father, and I'm really happy to have seen him. But there's a world out there, and in this whole month I've barely seen anything they have to offer.”

“What about the hunting?” inquired Veiðǫr, clenching the spear with a sorrowful expression. “You loved going hunting with me, and after you recovered from Gisli’s death, we went back there!”

“I don't think I'll be able to hunt in Equestria, since they don't seem to eat meat,” said Drakkar, taking the spear from his father's hoof. “It is true that I'll miss hunting with you, but there are creatures out there worth killing, and I'll bring one to you.” He stared at the spearhead, a wicked smile lighting his face. “I've heard stories of large monsters in their forests. Mountain cats the size of an ox, with bat wings on its back and a poisonous tail. If I ever go out to find one of those, I'll bring you the carcass so you can see it.”

“You really think highly of your skills, son,” replied Veiðǫr, taking the spear back and giving his son a resigned smirk. “I'm glad that I raised you to be a strong stallion.”

Drakkar smiled back, scratching the back of his head as he grinned widely. “Well, I might not leave, though,” he added with a shrug. “The Jarl wants to keep his trusted soldiers close, so unless there's a better reason for me to leave, he won't allow it. And considering that Mjǫllna's family has relatives here, they might be able to stay here.” Drakkar crossed his forelegs on his chest, staring at his father while slowly raising an eyebrow. “Well, are we done here? Can we go home now to get some sleep before the wedding?”

“Well, we talked about family history,” said Veiðǫr, tapping the ground with the spear. “You've always been a stallion who used to follow our traditions, and your rank shows that you've fulfilled them without exception. I trust that you will keep those traditions and transmit them to your children. And that's the other part you must remember. You come from an honorable lineage, and you have to continue it.”

Blinking in astonishment at Veiðǫr's words, Drakkar got up from the boulder and began walking home. “So all this is mostly to tell me you want more grandchildren.”

“You can never have enough grandchildren,” replied Veiðǫr with a laugh.

Drakkar rolled his eyes, smirking at his father. “It's so obvious that you won't be raising them.”

“Hey, we raised both your sister and you,” scolded Veiðǫr, poking him with the spear's shaft. “We already did our part.”

“As long as you don't spoil them too much...”

“Not more than we did to you two.” Both ponies laughed heartily as they walked home, with Veiðǫr putting his hoof over Drakkar's shoulders. “Let's get home so I can take theses clothes and war paint off. And after that, we go to the bath house to finish your preparation. Kljúfa will be coming along as well.”



-o-

After arriving home, Veiðǫr summoned the whole family into the living room and —to Drakkar's great embarrassment— told them the events that occurred while they were away. Though he didn't mention anything about Drakkar's plans about moving to Equestria, he repeated the scene where the groom threatened his father with a shaky sword several times. Hani covered her mouth with a hoof to try and stifle her chuckles, whereas Kljúfa suffered Hveiti's scolding for his booming laughter. During the whole thing, Drakkar remained speechless, his strong forelegs crossed in front of his chest and looking away from everypony else, trying to hide his blush behind his mane.

“I wish I could've been there,” said Kljúfa with a loud, healthy laugh. “If your expression was even half as good as Veiðǫr says, I would pay whatever I had to to see it.”

Hveiti looked at her husband through the corner of her eye as she showed a challenging smirk. “You can mock my younger brother for getting scared at our father's disguise. Just remember, though,” she added, her eyes shining with playful malice for an instant, “that, while Drakkar tried to confront the ghost, you galloped away as fast as your legs allowed you, almost ruining our wedding.” Almost everypony burst into laughter at the memories of the event, While Kljúfa buried his head between his hooves. Drakkar stared at his sister, who gave him a reassuring smile.

After the joyful moment, Veiðǫr raised a hoof to get everypony's attention. “We've rested enough already. We have to take Drakkar to the bath house to finish the preparations. The bride must have finished already.” He then offered his hoof to Kljúfa. “You should come with us as well.”

“I will go in a minute,” said Drakkar before getting up with a tired huff.

”Don't take too long, son,” warned Veiðǫr. “We'll be waiting for you there. Come on, Kljúfa.”

With a low grunt, Kljúfa walked out of the house, followed closely by Veiðǫr. As both stallions left, Drakkar looked at his sister while his ears drooped and showed a sheepish smile. “Thank you for that, sister.”

Hveiti shook her hoof as she chuckled. “Don't mention it, little brother.”

“Even after all these years, you still call me that?” said Drakkar, looking away shyly to cover his blooming blush.

Raising an eyebrow at him, Hveiti let out a playful huff before speaking. “Of course! You'll always be my little brother.”

“And my little hunter,” added Hani from behind them before taking off and flying to reach his side. “Do you remember when you were a colt and trained by throwing stones at a shield for target practice?”

“Oh, right!” exclaimed Hveiti, clapping and smiling broadly. “And then father made him a few dull spears so he could throw them farther!”

“And look at you now.” Hani walked toward, resting her hoof on Drakkar's cheek as she grew a beaming grin. “My little colt's going to marry tomorrow.” Her lip trembled slightly as Drakkar took her hoof in his. When he leaned his head on his mother's hoof, the mare took a step forward and wrapped him with her wings and surrounded him with her free foreleg. Drakkar carefully embraced her as well, taking care to not squeeze her wings. A barely audible sob made Drakkar's ears perk up.

“Mother, why are you crying?” he asked as he caressed her back.

“It's nothing, my son.” Hani pulled away, her wings still wrapping his back, and wiped her watery eyes with a hoof. “These are tears of joy. I'm proud of what you've become and that you've found a mare to share your life with.”

Hani hugged her son a second time, the grip tighter than before. Before Drakkar could return her the embrace, Hveiti walked to them and joined them in the group hug, wrapping her brother with her wings as well. Drakkar shook his head for a moment, closing his eyes wide shut to hold back his own tears as he surrounded both mares with one foreleg each, pulling both tightly close to him.

“Come on, brother,” said Hveiti before breaking the hug and resting her forehead on his. “Father must be waiting for you. And don't be soft with Kljúfa,” she added with a roguish smirk. “I never am.”

Drakkar let out a short chuckle as his sister wept his own watery eyes. “I'll take it into account.” The siblings snuggled one last time before Hani let Drakkar go, only to grab his head and give him a peck on the forehead.

“I'm longing for tomorrow, my son,” said Hani with a wide smile. “Go get ready. A great day awaits you.”

Drakkar slowly stepped back from both mares before nodding and leaving. With a hasty trot he followed Veiðǫr and Kljúfa, who were way ahead of him. By the time Drakkar had reached them, Veiðǫr had already started putting the stones to heat, and Kljúfa had grabbed one of the tubs of water to fill.

“Son, I think you should remove the pelt,” said Veiðǫr as he approached Drakkar. “If not for the stripping of your bachelor status, at least do it for your health. The heat might give you—” Drakkar instinctively clenched the bear pelt's paws and leaned back.

“I-If I may, Father,” stuttered Drakkar, “though I’m aware of the stripping of everything that represents my status as a bachelor, the pelt should stay. I won’t stop being a hófkarl for marrying,” he added, snickering.

Veiðǫr raised an eyebrow before giving an approving nod. “I’m surprised at your reaction. Whatever has happened in Equestria has surely made you stronger. You're going to sweat as if you were in Muspelheimr, though. Anyways, son, let's get ready,” he started, pushing the stones with a metal bar as he spoke. Drakkar let out a relieved sigh as soon as both ponies weren’t paying attention to him. “There are important things you must know in the ways of courting. In order to earn the love of a mare, you have to—”

Drakkar interrupted with a loud clearing of his throat. “Father, this is not an arranged marriage,” he explained, smiling at Veiðǫr's shallow scowl. “We're already in love, so I think we could skip this part.”

“Going fast,” replied Kljúfa from behind, filling the tub of water. “Did you also wrestle her down and conquer her,” he added with a smirk, “or are you going to welcome our advice for tomorrow night?”

Drakkar turned to face his brother-in-law, his father barely able to hold him back. “Don't you dare accuse me of such deeds, Kljúfa,” he replied, emphasizing the name with a guttural growl. “If I ever had lustful wishes, I held them back as tradition dictates.” Kljúfa remained stalwart, not taking even a step back. Drakkar's gritted teeth slowly turned into a mischievous smirk. “Besides,” he added before heavily letting himself fall onto the bench, “considering how long it took you to give my sister a foal, you're far from the most trustworthy mentor I can think of.”

“Enough, you two!” cried Veiðǫr as he trotted between the two stallions and throwing a disappointed gaze at Kljúfa. “You should hold your boasting for the flyting during the wedding feast. And you better have something much better than that. As for you,” he continued as he turned to face his son, “there's no such thing as a universal knowledge about keeping a mare... happy, so to speak. The best hope you can get is having her teach you the ways. However, you should be wary of your wife's mesmerizing voice. She can guide your actions with her charms to make you do her bidding.”

“Which isn't always a bad thing, depending on how grateful she is,” interjected Kljúfa with a playful smirk as he leaned on the wall.

Drakkar's ears folded back when he faced his brother-in-law. “I'd prefer it if you kept those things about my older sister to yourself,” he said with a snarl.

Letting out an exasperated sigh as he massaged his forehead, Veiðǫr waved his hoof to soothe both stallions. “Quit fighting already! This is important! What I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't let your wife bias your thoughts. Let her speak and give her opinion in the fields she's competent in, but remember that your word is law in your house. Don't aim solely to please her; aim for the well being of the family as a whole. Because if you make a decision that damages your house, you are the sole one responsible.” Veiðǫr frowned before continuing to tutor his son, his tone becoming much more severe. “And remember; don't you ever dare to raise a hoof against her. Even think about it, and I'll forsake you as my son for the rest of our lives. Is that clear enough?”

Drakkar huffed back at his father, ears folded back in wounded pride. “You offend me with your words, father. I expected you'd think more highly of me.”

“I expect you to go through internal struggles during your new life, son,” replied Veiðǫr, walking around Drakkar without looking away from him. “You will be challenged several times, and you won't be able to solve them by the axe. If you are to be a stallion your wife would remain next to, you must keep her pleased.” Before any of the other two ponies could react, Veiðǫr turned to face Kljúfa. “And not only in that way!” he added with a glare that made Kljúfa step back and almost drop the tub. “I warn you, Drakkar, and hear my warning,” he continued, to which Drakkar lip synched to himself as his father quoted the opening of the famous poem. “Profit you will have if you hear, great your gain if you learn. Respect your wife for her sacred duty as housekeeper and foal bearer, and offer her the love she deserves. Fail to achieve this, and she will find it in a more fitting stallion. You have won a mare's love, and will get gladness from her, but for that to happen, your promises must be fair and well fulfilled to keep her passion ablaze. A feat of bravery can call a mare's attention, but only constant care can keep her close to you. Remember this, my son, and you'll have a faithful wife.”

Drakkar nodded at he listened closely. However, his confident smile slowly faded away, and his ears drooped deeper with each warning and piece of advice. From behind them, Kljúfa witnessed the scene, noticing Drakkar's growing anxiety. “Everything can be simplified in a couple rules in the end,” he said as he walked towards the two ponies. Though Veiðǫr turned with a deep frown, Kljúfa stern look made his ears perk up and cautiously allow him by Drakkar's side. “Be loving and respectful to your wife make her feel like she's part of the family core, and you should be fine. The gnomic wisdom is fine and all, but once you see yourself on the other side, you find out that everything's both exaggerated and generalized.” Kljúfa rested his hoof on Drakkar's shoulder, getting his attention. The drooped ears the groom had slowly perked up at his brother-in-law's smile. “Besides, I'm sure that not even Veiðǫr here can say that Hani is as fickle as they warned him.”

“Not letting one's guard down never hurt anypony,” replied Veiðǫr with a huff. “But he's right, Drakkar. Share the gnomic wisdom with your foals when they come, and protect your future family as you protected us.” Veiðǫr walked past the two stallions to the filled tub. Holding it with one hoof, he waved Kljúfa aside and lifted the tub with his magic. “But it's true what they say, that you must never let your guard down. Now!”

Kljúfa turned to Drakkar's back, grabbing the lower end of his bear pelt and lifting it over the groom's head. After covering Drakkar's head with it, Kljúfa held him in a tight grip. Drakkar tried to struggle his way out to no avail. After a nod from the earth stallion, Veiðǫr unceremoniously emptied the tub all over Drakkar's back, receiving a loud gasp in return. As soon as he saw himself free, Drakkar tackled his brother-in-law to the ground, holding his head still with a hoof on his neck.

“What in the name of Þórr do you think you're doing?” he roared, resting his weight on the stomping hoof before his father pushed him away.

“Behave yourself!” demanded Veiðǫr as he pounded the floor. “Have you seen how your back is? You should've taken that pelt off for this!”

“I can't, and you know it!” replied Drakkar, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why didn't you said you were going to do that?”

“Because you would've thwarted our attempt anyways! If I had poured the water on your back with the pelt on, it wouldn't have freshened you. The pelt would've soaked up all the water, and Gisli’s not the one getting married tomorrow, you are!”

Drakkar looked away, standing on his hind legs as he let the water stream down his back. The excessive heat in the room was much more intense due to the sweat-covered pelt over him. Looking down at his brother-in-law rubbing his neck and coughing lightly, he walked towards him and offered a helping hoof. “I'm sorry, Kljúfa,” Drakkar said with a sad frown. “I... I got carried away.”

“Don't mention it,” replied Kljúfa with a shrug and a grin. “I told your father that it wasn't a good idea, but he was worried about you anyways. Though after this, I'm still wondering why your sister protects you so much, when it's obvious that you can take care of yourself.”

Both ponies shared a loud laugh, followed by Veiðǫr's once the threats of a fight faded away. “I've always been the younger brother, and that won't change no matter what happens.”

“Now that we've let some stress out, we should go back home,” said Veiðǫr, earning the other ponies' approving nods. “I'll get the dowry ready for tomorrow morning. Get ready for the wedding. And make it count, my son.”

“It will, father,” replied Drakkar with a proud grin. “You will not be disappointed.”