The Lovers' Edda

by Simon_oSullivan

Ast ok drengskapr binda okkr (annarr halfr)

Drakkar’s frayed nerves wouldn’t allow him to sleep at first, and he needed six mugs of strong ale to put himself to sleep. A low, pained grunt escaped his lips as he woke up the next morning when the hangover kicked the back of his head and the sun rays pierced through his eyelids. After getting up from the bed and cursing himself for what had sounded like a foolproof plan, Drakkar tentatively walked his way to the dining room and grabbed his drinking horn. With a yawn, he opened the beer keg and sank the horn inside to drink it in one gulp. He let out a relieved sigh as he waited for the pain to slowly fade away.

“Nervous, I see,” said Veiðǫr calmly from the other side of the table.

Drakkar's ears perked up before showing a tired smile. “A lot, to be honest.”

“I was wondering why so much ale was missing this morning,” his father replied with a chuckle, his strong forelegs crossed on the table. “I have everything ready, but it's early yet.” Veiðǫr looked out of the window, the sunlight shyly showing through under the door. “The witnesses will still take some time to come, and without them, you can't marry. But there's something we can do while we wait.” Drakkar stared at his father with a curious gaze. Veiðǫr's horn began to shine, and a sword and hammer from one of the shelves behind the groom magically landed on the table. “You must take the sword with you during the ceremony, as well as this hammer as a token of Þórr to symbolize the completeness of the union. And to ensure a fruitful marriage,” he added with a playful wink.

Drakkar rolled his eyes, letting himself fall heavily onto the bench. “You're quite persistent with that.”

“I saw your face when you met your nephew,” he replied with a wide grin. “I know you want one to call your own.”

“Maybe,” admitted Drakkar, his cheeks blooming with a healthy crimson color. “I have to be able to give them everything they need, though.”

“They?” asked Veiðǫr, unable to contain his joy. “You plan on having more than one?”

Drakkar's ears drooped as he looked away. “I was planning on having two. Mjǫllna has the last word on how many, of course, but I’m hoping the Vanir bless us with at least a colt and a filly.”

“You're lucky if she stops there,” he replied with a loud laugh. “Hani wanted two foals as well, and I agree with you about the mare having the last word.”

“What do you mean?” inquired Drakkar with a raised eyebrow.

Veiðǫr leaned forward and gestured to his son to come closer before speaking. “Kljúfa didn't want foals,” he whispered, “but Hveiti wasn't taking a no for an answer.” Drakkar let out an annoyed grunt as he leaned back and looked away. “Come on, I didn't say anything wrong! Besides, that persistence your sister showed is the one that gave you your nephew Hvæssaðlé.”

With a short chuckle, Drakkar looked at his father through the corner of his eye before leaning forward again. “I don't know how much more you're going to insist on the foals, but for now, there's a wedding ahead.”

“And we're waiting for the remaining witnesses. Kljúfa has gone to pick Megin-gjarð and Fastrrás, he should be back any minute now. Once they're here, we'll wait for the Jarl and Captain Brim-sker.”

Drakkar nodded. “Is the dowry ready?”

Veiðǫr showed a confident smirk, pointing behind his seat. “That chest should be more than enough. The morgen-gifu is ready as well.”

“Perfect.” A knock at the door made both ponies' ears perk up and turn to it.

“That must be Kljúfa with the others,” said Veiðǫr, tapping the table with both hooves before hopping out of his bench. “Go open the door while I go get Hani and Hveiti.”

With a nod, Drakkar got up and trotted to the door. “Get in, Kljúfa, we're almost—” As he opened the door, he trailed off as he saw the two ponies at the entrance. Instinctively, Drakkar hit his chest with a hoof. “Jarl Hríðvetr! Captain Brim-Sker! We didn't expect you so soon.”

“Rest, soldier,” replied Brim-Sker, his hoof raised in front of him. “The alþing wasn't that long, and the other jarlar have voted for the festivities to take place after the wedding.”

The elderly Jarl beamed happily at Drakkar's astonished face. “The Konungr himself is greatly satisfied with your efforts, and all the rulers are looking forward to seeing you there with your bride.”

“Y-yes, of course,” stuttered Drakkar, slowly walking backwards and tapping the table blindly to find the sword and the hammer. “My father has the dowry ready. We're just waiting for the rest of the witnesses.”

Several hoofsteps sounded behind them, a few of them quite louder than the rest. When the Jarl and the Captain turned they met the colossal Megin-gjarð escorted by Kljúfa and Kynngi, with Fastrrás walking right behind his wife.

Everypony saluted at the Jarl, who replied with an approving smile. Done with the formalities, Megin-gjarð looked at Fastrrás through the corner of his eye. The light blue pegasus stallion remained close to Kynngi, noticing the giant pony's attention. Despite his attempts at calling Kynngi by poking her side with the tip of his wings, she kept looking forward, frowning at his persistence. It didn't take long for Veiðǫr to come out with Hani and Hveiti, and once Drakkar was set to leave, the large group of ponies left the house towards Mjǫllna's.

During their walk, Megin-gjarð was by far the most talkative pony of the group, exchanging anecdotes with the groom and his family. Contrasting with their joy, Kynngi remained silent, pushing Fastrrás' feathers away and hushing him whenever he tried to speak to her. Hveiti separated herself from her family and approached Kynngi, pulling her away from her husband while giving him a reassuring nod. With a shy grin, he nodded back and joined the groom's group.

“You're being quite rude with your husband,” said Hveiti, raising an eyebrow as she spoke. “What's bothering you, Kynngi?”

“They husband they chose for me turned out to be useless,” she replied with a huff. “I expected more from one of Scandineighvia's most renowned scouts. He's fast, that's the only thing he's good at. Even when being fast is not an advantage.”

“There's something more than that,” insisted Hveiti with a shake of her head. “Kljúfa took years to give me Hvæssaðlé, but I still treat him with the respect a husband deserves from his wife.”

“I'm going to divorce him, if you're so concerned about it,” added Kynngi, slowly speeding the pace.

Hveiti kept at her side, frowning as she did. “I don't understand. Why the sudden decision now?”

“I've been going through this ordeal for long enough, Hveiti,” replied Kynngi with a quick shake of her head. “And the only stallion I wanted by my side is marrying to an unworthy crossbreed, which adds to my already plentiful contempt. How do you think I feel?” she asked with a disgruntled huff.

Hveiti's ears folded back as her frown deepened. “You are not going to ruin this moment for my brother, Kynngi,” she replied with a stern voice, “so get those ideas out of your head.”

“Why do you approve of this?” asked Kynngi, disbelief rasping her throat. “You know nothing about this mare, and you don't object? Nopony in your family had anything to say about it?”

“He spoke about her in a way only a pony in love does,” replied Hveiti as her ears slowly perked back up. “He never spoke of any mare like that, and he told us about the requited feelings she holds for him. As his older sister, I'm really happy for him, and you, as his friend, should be as well.”

“So you aren't concerned about the mare he chose,” insisted Kynngi. Hveiti's ears folded back again.

“He chose, and I'm happy for him!” seethed Hveiti, making the unicorn mare step away from her with drooped ears. Hveiti's wings shook for a moment as her teeth gritted. “He is my brother and he has fought to earn the right to marry whoever he wants. I had the chance to choose my husband thanks to him becoming a hǫfkarl, and for that I'll be forever in his debt. He's also my little brother, so may the Æsir and Vanir protect you if you dare ruin this day for him.” Kynngi moved next to her, determination glowing in her eyes and ready to counter her words, but Hveiti's words pushed her back in awe. “No, I don't fear your battle magic; seer or not, I'll make sure you pay for it.” Kynngi kept the distance, her ears drooped and a grim frown on her face.

“Here we are,” warned Veiðǫr as he pointed to the house in front of them.

The decoration of Gleipna's household made it outshine the ones surrounding it. In front of the main door stood Saðmatr, flanked by Vínviðr on her right and Eldstaðr on her left, the three of them dressed in traditional Fimbulvetrian dresses. The matron was donned in a long green underdress with a blue linen dress, suspended by shoulder straps. Two finely carved brooches helped to fasten the dress to the underdress. Mjǫllna's mother and grandmother wore plain red and green underdresses alone respectively.

“The bride is almost ready,” said Saðmatr, resting her hoof on a chest in front of her. The other mares looked for Drakkar among the crowd, exchanging pleased grins with him as the matron went on with the exchange. “This is the heiman fylgia.”

“And this is the mundr,” said Veiðǫr stepping in front of the rest of the group and resting his own coffer in front of him. “I trust this will be enough.”

Saðmatr took a step forward as Veiðǫr opened the chest. She smiled and gave an approving nod at the large elk antlers on top of all the animal pelts, all of them seeming perfectly cleaned and cured. A smaller box was slightly hidden between the antlers, but she was able to see it before Veiðǫr could point at it. When she opened it she didn't say a word, but stared with widened eyes at its content. There were so many fangs, claws and boar tusks that putting one more inside would've made closing it impossible.

“There is a whole layer of walrus' tusks at the bottom of the chest as well,” informed Veiðǫr, puffing out his chest in pride at the matron's reaction. His smile became larger as Saðmatr's surprise became obvious for all the attendants.

“The bride offers this for the wedding,” said Saðmatr. She opened the chest with a flourish. “Linen cloths for the table and silken sheets for the bed,” she explained, “as well as six ounces of silver and spare clothing for the couple.”

“Though we didn't bring it with us,” added Vínviðr with a hoof on her chest, “we also add our anvil and blacksmith tools. The fillies produced of this fruitful union will keep up to our crafting traditions.”

“It's settled, then,” announced Veiðǫr with an approving nod as both ponies closed the chests.

“The bride is ready!” called one of the fillies from inside the house.

All the ponies outside turned to the slowly opening door, its creaking easily heard in the descending silence. Mjǫllna took a step forward to the yard, awed gasps coming from all the attendants. The mare was clothed in an iron chain shirt. A bright bronze circlet with wings welded to its sides decorated her forehead. On top of her head rested a silver crown, richly ornate with its points ending alternatively in crosses and clover leaves. Set with rock-crystal and garlanded with red and green silk cords, the family's bridal crown rested majestically on her, shining with the splendor of the legendary alfar. The chill emanating from the úlfsvetir necklace made her breath turn to mist before her face.

“It's her,” whispered Jarl Hríðvetr, staring in awe at the bride. “That's Gleipna's armor. I'd recognize it anywhere in the Nine Realms.”

“How arrogant of you,” spat Kynngi with a dire frown, “to attend your very own wedding with your ancestor's battle armor!”

“How foolish of you,” replied Mjǫllna without turning, standing next to her mother, “to think she wouldn't feel honored with such a gesture.”

There were some whispers among the small crowd as Kynngi gritted her teeth— a gesture that contrasted with Drakkar's wide grin and brightly shining eyes. Right next to her, Hveiti held back a chuckle and covered her mouth with a hoof. “I already like her,” she whispered to nopony in particular, but loud enough for Kynngi to hear it.

Both Veiðǫr and Eldstaðr took the respective offerings to their sides before Saðmatr stepped forward. “With the financial considerations out of the way, the ceremony can begin,” she announced, moving her hoof towards the house. “We have the yard and garden set for the wedding. Please, follow us.”

Everypony walked behind the house, where a ceremonial gazebo had been set for the wedding. Sturdy wooden pillars that doubled the largest stallion in size held a pyramid made of straw, with strings of flowers and vines hanging down. Right under it stood a coarse altar built of heaped stones with a wooden bowl on top of it. To the right stood a young stallion with a mossy green mane and the beginning of a beard of the same color. With red eyes almost covered by his long mane and an ivory white coat, the pony held tightly to his chest something wrapped in an bright colored kerchief. Saðmatr guided Mjǫllna to the young stallion, who pulled the cloth away to reveal the sword underneath it. With a gentle bow, he offered the sword to the bride.

“We have prepared a sacrifice to call Freyr's blessing upon the bride and groom,” announced Saðmatr, gesturing to the house's mares. As they trotted inside the house, the matron resumed speaking. “The ritual won't last long, and once Freyr has witnessed this holy junction, we shall continue with the following part.” The cries of fillies echoed inside the house as one of the mares pulled a boar out to the yard. Another mare grabbed the sobbing fillies, pressing their heads against her chest. At the sight of the animal, Drakkar's ears drooped, shaking his head with widened eyes.

“Drakkar, what's wrong?” asked Mjǫllna as he caressed his hoof.

“I'm seeing Gullin right in front of me,” he replied with a slight tremble in his voice.

“Hold it down,” commanded Saðmatr, to which the other mare obliged despite the muffled complaints from the small fillies. When Saðmatr pulled the ritual knife out of its scabbard hanging from her belt, Drakkar closed his eyes shut and looked away, ragged breathing and gritted teeth to hold back his will to put her to a halt. “Oh, come upon us, great Freyr!” started chanting Saðmatr loudly to be heard over the fillies. “We offer thee this fine sacrifice to thee, so you can bless this couple in their marriage!”

“Matron Saðmatr,” interjected Mjǫllna, holding Drakkar's hoof tightly against her chest. The matron remained motionless, staring at the couple with a raised eyebrow. “May we have the boar as a living offering to Freyr? I'm... not sure about how this goes, but I think Drakkar would prefer it like that.”

Though Kynngi took a step forward to speak, the touch of a wing on her stopped her from moving. She turned to meet whoever had touched her with a furious glare, only to face Hveiti's controlled anger, simply shaking her head as she tightened her wing's grip on Kynngi.

“If... if there's a chance to have it as a living gift for Freyr instead,” added Drakkar, ears still drooped and looking around with grim eyes. “I befriended a wild boar in Equestria. I named him Gullin, in honor of Freyr's boar. I can't get my head away from him, and when I look in this boar’s eyes, I see my friend Gullin.” Drakkar walked forward, resting his hoof on the boar's side. The rubbing was rewarded with pleased squeals and gentle kicks from the animal's hind legs. The then looked at at Saðmatr with pleading eyes. “Does this one have a name?”

“It was brought here as a sacrifice,” explained Saðmatr with a shake of her head. “Of course it doesn't have—”

“Vangere!” cried one of the fillies from inside the house. “His name's Vangere!”

With a defeated sigh, Saðmatr rolled her eyes. “I wasn't able to keep the animal hidden from them, and the fillies grew fond of it. I told them to stay away from it.”

“Spare the boar and keep it as a living gift for Freyr, then,” said Drakkar, staring at Saðmatr while nodding. “In this boar were nameless, I would've looked away as you killed him. But none of the Vanir would consider their blessings worth a foal's sorrow.”

Saðmatr turned to face Mjǫllna, who seconded Drakkar's words with an approving nod. “Very well, then,” she said as she sheathed the knife. “We'll keep it as a living gift to the Vanr Freyr.” The two fillies burst in bliss and galloped towards the boar, jumping over it and hugging it tightly. “Come on, girls, take him inside for now, we still have a wedding to do.” While hushing the fillies with a hoof, the matron offered the mare that brought the boar the bowl that was on the altar. “Fill it with water, dear.” Without a second to lose, the young pegasus mare flew inside the house. Saðmatr cleared her throat before speaking to the attendants. “While this is not uncommon, it is a bit unexpected. Though I'm sure Freyr appreciates your kindness with my grandnieces.”

The pegasus returned with the filled bowl shortly after, placing it on the stone altar. Saðmatr then picked up a bundle of fir-twigs and dipped them into it. “And now,” she started, her voice returning to the louder, more ominous pitch she used during the formalities of the ceremony, “I shall confer the blessings of the Æsir and Vanir upon you!” With that, Saðmatr made a gentle, short downwards movement with the branch, followed by a quick one from left to right. Droplets of water flew through the air towards the couple and witnesses, a few hitting the ponies attending. Once done with this part of the ceremony, Saðmatr left the branch next to the altar. “We now proceed with the exchange of swords.”

Mjǫllna gave Eldstaðr a quick nod as she slipped one of the leg-rings to her. As she tapped Veiðǫr's shoulder and gave it to him as she gestured with her head towards Drakkar, the bride and the groom took a step forward, standing right in front of the stone altar. Saðmatr raised her hoof to Drakkar before speaking. “The sword given to the bride represents the tradition of the family and contribution of the bloodline,” she quoted while the groom offered Mjǫllna the blade. The matron then gestured to Mjǫllna as she resumed. “The sword given to the groom symbolizes the transfer of the father's power of guardianship and protection over the bride to her new husband.” A few sobs were heard about the crowd as some of the mares tried to keep their composure. Kljúfa rested his hoof on Hveiti's shoulder, getting a comfortable nod with watery eyes as a reply. Despite her joy, she still kept Kynngi on a tight grip. Her constant growls at Fastrrás' attempts at cheering her up only enhanced Hveiti's determination to keep watching her closely.

“Please, proceed with the exchange of rings,” asked Saðmatr, joyfully smiling at the crowd's involvement.

Veiðǫr walked towards his son, offering the leg-ring Eldstaðr had given him a moment ago. When the groom took a closer look at it, he recognized his cutie mark engraved on it. “Put it on the sword's hilt,” he whispered, getting Drakkar's confused stare in return. “Just do what I say, son!” he growled before walking back into the crowd. With a shrug, Drakkar obliged, though he was forced to get a hold of the sword to prevent the leg-ring to fall off the sword. Mjǫllna followed suit, placing her own ring on her sword's hilt before both ponies turned their attention on Saðmatr. She gave them an approving nod before speaking. “Sword and rings together,” she started as she held their hooves together, “master the sacredness of the compact between stallion and mare, as well as the binding nature of the oath which they take together. Thus, the sword is not a threat to your bodies, but to the honor of your spirits should the oath be broken.”

As Saðmatr finished speaking, Mjǫllna raised her hoof, slightly shaking as Drakkar put her leg-ring on. The touch of silver further cooled by the chilling northern winds made her flinch for an instant, but the contrasting warmth of Drakkar's hoof as it slid through her fur made her tingle. When her leg-ring was set, she offered the remaining one to him, getting him to slide his foreleg through it as she held it. With both rings on their legs, Saðmatr called their attention once more. “We will now hear the couple's vows,” she said as she turned to face Drakkar with a comforting smile. “Drakkar?”

Mjǫllna's tail waggled playfully as Drakkar took a few long breaths and wiped away the droplets of nervous sweat that indiscreetly surfed down his forehead. “I take you, Mjǫllna Eldstaðsdóttir as my wife,” swore Drakkar, his hoof holding Mjǫllna's to his chest “My shield will protect you from harm and my axe will smite those who dare plot against my family. Food you will never lack, and the ways of honor and values of our land I will teach our scions.”

With a collective nod from almost every single pony on the crowd, Saðmatr turned to Mjǫllna. “Dear, your turn.”

Mjǫllna's gentle holding of his hoof became a tight grip, her gentle smile becoming a brazen grin, only noticeable by Drakkar and the matron. “I accept you as my husband, Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson,” she vowed, pulling his hoof against her own chest. “I will be the mistress of your homestead, and my heroic heritage will make a weapon out of me to defend it during your absence. I will instruct our filly in the ways of blacksmithing, as my mother did with me, and her grandmother did with her. Honor and tradition will be strong in our family.”

Drakkar raised an eyebrow, leaning towards Mjǫllna as the rest of the attendants cheered for the couple. “Don't you mean 'if we have a filly'?” whispered Drakkar.

Without losing her brazen smile, Mjǫllna replied to him. “Oh, but we will have a filly. Whatever it takes,” she added with a wink.

Before Drakkar could say anything for or against his future wife's plans. Saðmatr raised both hooves and clapped loudly. “Please, everypony!” she cried, waving her hooves in the air until her hind legs forced her to stand on all fours again. “The bruð-hlaup is about to start! We'll see you all at the alþing!”

“What's that?” whispered Mjǫllna, getting a joyful laugh from the groom.

“We now have to race to the alþing,” explained Drakkar with a wide smile before trotting towards the witnesses.

With widened eyes, Mjǫllna stood on her spot. “B-but they never told me about that!” she stuttered, turning to face the mare that had rested a hoof on her shoulder.

“Come on, Mjǫllna, it's not that troublesome,” said Saðmatr with a chuckle.

“Had I known I had to run a race to get married, I wouldn't have dressed myself with thirty pounds of metal!” she whispered louder as exasperation deformed her voice.

“Oh, don't worry about that,” replied Saðmatr with a strong pat on Mjǫllna's side. “The ones getting married win every time. It's how it's set! Now get on your marks, dear,” she said as she pushed Mjǫllna towards the rest of the crowd.

Over a dozen ponies stood in a perfect line when Mjǫllna got to them. She could see most of them up until Megin-gjarð, whose herculean size made seeing the ones right next to them impossible. On the other side of the titanic pony stood Drakkar, flanked by his father on the other side. Next to him, Kynngi kept staring at him, with Hveiti keeping her wings spread and eyes watching the young seer. Mjǫllna got her place on Hveiti's left, patiently waiting until Saðmatr got in front of the crowd.

“I will give you the signal for you to run,” announced the matron before suddenly changing to a more informal voice and joking grimace. “I'll go on a more relaxed pace; I don't think I could end up first in my own wedding without making the guests go uncomfortably slow.” The crowd laughed with her for a moment, her joyful smile slowly becoming a sad frown that went unnoticed. “I already ran once,” she muttered to herself as she raised her hoof. With a short cry, she lowered it with a strong movement, starting the stampede towards the alþing. The galloping hooves deafened her gentle walk. “I won't run again.”

-o-

Drakkar had taken the lead from the very moment the race started. The witnesses trailed behind, putting on a good show despite never quite catching the pair up. Mjǫllna could barely keep the pace, though. The armor's weight was slowing her down, and she had to use one of her forehooves to keep the bridal crown from falling off. Next to her, Kynngi was almost galloping past her.

“This life isn't for you, crossbreed,” she muttered between gritted teeth.

Mjǫllna looked at her through the corner of her eye, remaining impassive. “Think what you want, Kynngi,” she replied bluntly. “But if you dare ruin this day, which family should you be more concerned about?”

“I am a powerful seer,” announced Kynngi with a grunt. “I have earned my reputation with my own sweat and blood. You only have your ancestor's legend to back you up.”

“To your eyes, I'll always be inferior, no matter what I do,” said Mjǫllna, a devilish smirk on her face. “But there's something you should be more concerned about than who Drakkar's marrying. Something that exists in both Fimbulvetr and Equestria.”

“And what would that be, crossbreed?” growled Kynngi between ragged breaths.

Broadening her already wide grin, Mjǫllna looked back before saying “The wrath of a protective sibling.”

With widened eyes, Kynngi looked back to see that, right behind her, galloped Hveiti with an intimidating frown and a glare focused on her. As Kynngi lowered her head, she slowly paced down. “There's nothing you can do to make me accept you as his wife, crossbreed. Remember that,” she spat before getting next to Hveiti and then behind her.

By the time the conversation had finished, Mjǫllna could see the huge building where everypony was heading to. Drakkar was already at the front door, with the witnesses and remaining attendants trying to stay at least a body or two behind Mjǫllna. “Wow! How did he get there already?”

“My brother might be a bit too eager about the wedding,” said Hveiti with a chuckle. “And he's always been a competent runner. You can also blame him taking the word 'race' a bit too seriously. Come on, Mjǫllna!” she cheered, pushing the bride with one of her wings. “One last sprint and he's yours!”

With her head leaned slightly forward, Mjǫllna burst into an even faster gallop, her four hooves barely touching the grass as she ran her way to the alþing. Leaning on his new sword, Drakkar stood blocking the gate, taking a cautious step back as Mjǫllna stopped a couple yards before him, grabbing the crown right before it flew away and inside the building.

“Are you ready?” asked Drakkar as he offered a hoof, getting a quick nod between heavy breathing from her.

“I... I'm fine,” she replied, catching her breath every few words. “I just... need to take this armor off.”

“You'll have time for that later,” joked Vínviðr from behind them. Drakkar looked away to cover the healthy burst of crimson his face had bloomed with his mane as Mjǫllna let out a playful giggle. “Now it's time for you two to cross the entryway together.”

“Watch your step now, Mjǫllna,” said Drakkar while pointing down at the raised lip at the bottom of the doorway. “We've reached this far, and I'd rather avoid misfortune in our lives.” Drakkar then took an exaggeratedly high step forward dodging the threshold to show her how it was done.

Despite his gestures to walk forward, Mjǫllna shook her head, unable to hold back a chuckle. “You can't be serious,” she ended up saying. “I'm not going to walk as if I was trying to walk up a ladder two steps at a time.”

“Extreme misfortune,” repeated Drakkar, pointing back at the wooden lip beneath the doorway.

Rolling her eyes and letting out a defeated sigh, Mjǫllna obliged, walking through the entryway as he told her to. “I hope you don't make me do crazy stuff like this often during our married life,” she said with a mocking tone.

“If you knew what I had to do to get that sword you wouldn't complain about the silly walking,” replied Drakkar with a chuckle. “Besides, it's for the sake of our married life. If we can avoid misfortune, why risk having to go through it?”

Once the doomsday obstacle of the perfectly ordinary threshold had been walked over, the couple faced forward, their jaws dropping in astonishment at the sight in front of them. Several massively long rectangular tables formed a large hexagon with a large, burning fireplace in the middle of it. At the center of each table rested a huge piece of roast elk, their silver trays decorated with servings of boiled peas with mashed red seaweed. Large bowls overflowing with bread made of nuts and honey were scattered across the tables. Servants walked everywhere carrying large kegs, pouring beer and mead to the attendants who asked. A skáld played a large harp next to the fireplace, trying to get himself heard above the laughter and clashing of drinking horns.

“The couple is here!” announced Jarl Hríðvetr, summoning silence in the hall. Only one pony stood up, and his presence made everypony bow their heads.

Donned in a gray silken attire with a bright blue cloak that covered most of his right side, the powerfully-built cyan pegasus followed Drakkar's every step with his ochre eyes. “Come closer, Hófkarl!” commanded the stallion, stroking his exquisitely groomed long, ebony beard. Very little mane remained on his head, loose strands falling down the sides of his head, held by a silver tiara with a cut ruby in the middle of it.

Drakkar bowed deeply, his horn almost touching the polished floor. “I am honored of having been called to your presence, Konungr Himinhrafn.”

“Get up, Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson,” ordered the Konungr. “I am not the one who deserves praising this day, and not only because of you wedding.” With a shake of his hoof, Himinhrafn returned to his seat pointing at the sit right next to him. “Sit down, Hófkarl.”

“With all due respect, my Konungr,” interjected Saðmatr while deeply bowing, avoiding eye contact with him. “While I am but a humble mare, I'm afraid that there are certain pending parts of the wedding.”

“I am aware of that, matron,” replied the Konungr with a shake of his hoof. “You'll be able to resume the ceremony when I'm done with what I have to do. There is a lot to celebrate today. For today!” he exclaimed with a raised, shaking hoof. “Today is the dawn of a new era for us Fimbulvetrians! An era when we start an alliance with the southern lands of Equestria! This stallion here!” he continued, giving Drakkar a strong pat on his shoulder. “This is the stallion that made it possible! He went beyond his hófkarl duties, seeking the wellbeing of his beloved land! And by Óðinn, he returned victorious!”

“And for that we are here today,” added Hríðvetr as he walked right behind Drakkar. “I've considered what you told me the day before the wedding, and it's been a matter of discussion early this morning. And, with great sorrow for my heart, we got to a decision.” With a upwards gesture of the Jarl's hoof, Drakkar got up from the bench, lowering his head out of respect. Hríðvetr took a deep breath and rested a hoof on the groom's shoulder before speaking. “Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson. By my right as the Jarl, I grant you the title of Þegn of Scandineighvia, and name you our official ambassador in Equestria.” The crowd cheered and raised their drinking horns, screaming congratulatory war cries that boomed across the hall. A loud gasp and widened eyes were Drakkar's only possible reply. “And now, continue with the wedding!” added Hríðvetr, raising his own drinking horn before toasting. “For Drakkar and Mjǫllna!”

“For Drakkar and Mjǫllna!” echoed the room as every single pony repeated the Jarl's toast. Mjǫllna bounced on the spot, exchanging hugs with both her family and Drakkar's, getting warm greetings from them all. The cheer went silent again when the Konungr raised both hooves in the air.

“There's something left to do before resuming the wedding, though, Jarl Hríðvetr,” interjected the Konungr before drinking his horn of mead in one gulp. He let out a sated sigh before resuming. “If he is to preserve our interests in Equestria, we need to assign him a hófkarl for himself. A stallion who will help him protect what we aim for with this alliance as well as his new, hopefully growing family,” he added with a nod directed to Mjǫllna.

A loud hoofstep resounded inside the hall when Megin-gjarð stomped the ground. “I shall take that burden with honor,” he proclaimed with a salute, standing upright and staring at Drakkar.

“Megin-gjarð, your sense of duty is undeniable,” assured Drakkar as he took a step back. “But your place is here, defending our borders.”

A loud laugh escaped Jarl Hríðvetr's lips. “You're not leaving forever, Þegn Drakkar,” he interjected as he gave Drakkar a strong pat on the back. “You must come at every alþing and formal þing to report about the wellbeing of the treaty. We shall also use the so-called Crystal Empire as mediators to get in contact with you in case your hooves are needed in a war.”

“I understand, my Jarl,” replied Drakkar as he knelt to him. “May I, however, request something?”

“After what you've done for us, there is little we would deny to you, if what you've been granted so far wasn't enough evidence of it,” replied Hríðvetr with a raised eyebrow as he walked past them, stopping three seats away for the Konungr. “What do you have in mind, though?”

“My Jarl, the lands of Equestria are truly mesmerizing, but there are a lot of things I've missed during my time there,” he started while taking his own seat next to Himinhrafn. “Hunting is not something available down there, but I'll still stalk across the Everfree Forest from time to time. The blood of centuries of trackers and hunters run through my veins, and I won't let my skills go rusty and disappoint them. However, though Mjǫllna is skilled in making me forget homesickness,” he added with a wide grin and a wink at Mjǫllna —getting a playful waggle of her tail and giggles from Hani and Hveiti in response— “I'd like to bring something of Fimbulvetr with me.” Drakkar then raised the drinking horn in front of him, staring at its content with a proud smile. “I want to brew our mead in Equestria.”

“So you want to have your own source of income,” said Hríðvet with an approving nod.

“What kind of husband and father would I be,” he asked with a smirk, resting the horn on the table, “if I still depended on others?”

“That's the spirit I want to see in my subjects!” said Himinhrafn as he applauded. “I approve this idea! Don't worry, brewing is more of a patience matter rather than hard work. I should know, I've always enjoyed brewing my own drinks.” Both ponies shared a loud laugh, and the crowd followed suit, adding cheers and singing 'Þegn Drakkar'. With a gesture of his hoof, Himinhrafn offered Drakkar to get up and go to the large supporting pillar that stood the closest to them. Upon a closer look, he noticed the many scars in it, the depth of each one being different from the others.

“My Þegn,” said Saðmatr with a respectful bow, “it is now time for you to plunge your sword into the pillar. The depth of the scar will determine the luck of the marriage.”

Drakkar rested a foreleg on the pillar, standing on his hind legs as he unsheathed the blade with the free hoof. As he looked around him, he received raised hooves and words of cheer from the witnesses. Soon the attendants of the feast began hitting the tables in what became a rhythmic pattern as they cried Drakkar's name. With his sword tightly held in his hoof, Drakkar rested his weight on the pillar, his hind legs shaking. His breathing became faster and more ragged between his gritted teeth, his eyes focused on the sturdy wooden pillar. As part of the wedding, he had to do his best to make sure the Æsir and Vanir would bless them.

With a step back, he let out a loud grunt, his now free hoof leaning on the sword's hilt. A long, guttural cry boomed out of his throat as he charged blade-first against the supporting structure. The ferocity of the strike nailed the sword a few inches deep into the pillar. He hit his head against it, making him take a step back and land heavily on all fours. With a shake of his head fervently, he caressed his forehead as he let out a low, pained grunt. The sword remained stuck in the pillar by itself, gently vibrating from the force of the strike.

There was a short silence, only interrupted by some of the female guests’ whispers and chuckles. Mjǫllna and her family jumped back as both Hani and Hveiti exploded in pure joy, screaming and tightly hugging each other. Veiðǫr nodded with a shining grin, hitting his chest with pride.

“I'm afraid I don't get it,” admitted Mjǫllna with drooped ears, a nicker escaping her lips as she stared at Drakkar's mother and sister. The two mares trotted towards them with glowing smiles and whispered something to Eldstaðr and Vínviðr, causing them to gasp in awe before letting out loud chuckles. “What? What is it?” insisted Mjǫllna. Vínviðr then whispered it to her, causing her to have the same reaction they did before facing Hani and Hveiti. “Really?” Both mares nodded with wide grins on their faces. Mjǫllna then turned to face Veiðǫr, whose approving made her cover his mouth with a hoof before facing the two pegasi again and bursting into laughter. The five of them then joined together in a group hug, letting out cheers of pure joy, with the bride in the middle of the remaining mares of both families.

“Should I be worried about that?” asked Drakkar with a raised eyebrow as she looked through the corner of his eye at a chuckling Saðmatr.

“Oh, on the contrary!” she replied, shaking her hoof at him. Drakkar tried to pull the sword from the wooden pillar. “The scar left symbolizes the luck of the marriage. Most accurately, the number of foals you'll have.” Drakkar's shocked expression made her laugh even louder, resting a hoof on his shoulder. “It's alright. Even if you hadn’t made a deep scar there, she would’ve still tried squeezing some foals out of you!” Saðmatr covered her mouth with a hoof to muffle her upcoming burst of laughter at Drakkar's furious blushing. It didn’t help that his own surprise had given him the strength needed to pull the sword from the pillar, and almost fell on his back. Once she had calmed down, she stomped the ground to call the witnesses and family members' attention. “Everypony take your seats! The feast will start!”

All the ponies trotted their way to unoccupied seats, except for Mjǫllna, who stopped in front of the matron. “Are the remaining preparations ready?” she asked as she pushed the bridal crown before it fell off.

“Everything's under control, sweetie!” replied Saðmatr, pushing her towards the tables. “We're almost done! Servants!” she called. “The bridal ale!” She then turned her attention back to the bride. “Do it just like we taught you last night,” she whispered, getting an approving nod from her.

As Drakkar sat next to the Konungr, Mjǫllna went to her seat next to him. Before they were able to share words, one of the servants brought her an exquisitely forged silver bowl-like vessel provided with handles on both sides resembling tails of birds. Standing on both hind legs, she raised the mead to Drakkar before quoting “Ale I bring you, oak of battle! With strength blended and brightest honor, it is mixed with magic and mighty songs, with goodly spells, wish-speeding runes!”

Drakkar took the bowl from Mjǫllna with his right hoof and put it close to his chest. With his eyes close, he used his free hoof to make a quick T-shaped pattern over the drink before raising it again. “Óðinn, the All-Father, I summon you!” he prayed. “Grant me a fraction of your divine wisdom to help me support my wife and future family!”

With those words, Drakkar approached the bowl to his lips and took a short sip. When he opened her eyes, Mjǫllna was still in front of her, both forehooves expecting the vessel back. “Mighty Freyja, to you I beg,” she vowed as she offered the bowl to the goddess. “Make me fertile to bear this stallion's foals, and grant me the magic to help them grow healthy and protected from ill fate!”

As Mjǫllna took her own sip of sweet, slightly spicy mead, Saðmatr walked between them, resting a hoof on each of the couple's shoulders. “Drakkar and Mjǫllna are now one in the eyes of the Grágás, the Æsir and Vanir!” she announced, follow by a deafening cheer and pounding of tables from the crowd.

“And now, Drakkar, you must hallow your wife's womb with the hammer you were given this morning,” explained Saðmatr, much to Drakkar's obvious shock.

“I-I-I have t-to do what?” he stuttered in awe, much in contrast with Mjǫllna's playful giggling. He reached for his hammer and stared at it for a moment as Saðmatr whispered to his ear. “O... okay, I can do this.” He slowly moved the hammer closer to the bride, who grabbed its head with both hooves and pulled it on top of her lap. Mjǫllna's alluring wink did little to calm him down. “B-bring the Hammer the bride to bless,” he stuttered, Saðmatr silently mouthing along with him as he spoke, “on the maiden's lap lay you, Mjǫllnir; In Frigg's name then our wedlocks hallow!”

”That was quite a passionate plea, my Þegn,” said Saðmatr with a chuckle. Drakkar became even redder.

“We're finally done with the ceremonies!” exclaimed Himinhrafn, raising his drinking horn in the air. “Let the feast begin!”

Great rejoicing boomed across the whole room, the only two slightly annoyed ponies in the room being a snarling Kynngi and the skáld at the center, patiently tapping his harp and hoping for silence to allow him to sing again.

“I will gladly start the flyting games!” said Kynngi, raising her cup with a mischievous grin. “I'm sure the bride would like to participate as well.”

Despite Hveiti's frown, Mjǫllna tapped the table with both hooves, playfully smirking. “Well, go ahead, then.”

“You, half-blood mare who comes from faraway lands,” she spat with a forced grin, “you think you're worthy of the stallion that before you stands?”

Chuckling, she gave Drakkar a sensual wink. “This is going to be fun. Watch me.” Mjǫllna then got up and raised her own drinking horn before speaking. “I do believe so, but I must say, that if you disagree, you needn't stay.”

A loud laugh boomed out of Kynngi's lips. “If that's the best you have, let me give you some advice. Your weak hips won't stand even the chastest vice.”

“Drakkar knows you're wrong, because though we have yet to share a room, passion and desire made our lips meet under the light of the moon.” Mjǫllna's smile became a seductive beam, raising her cup as a toast to her flyting. “And now that Freyja has set us in a foal-making mood, our screams of joy will wake the neighborhood!”

Everypony raised their horns to join Mjǫllna's toast as she took a sip. With an approving nod, Hveiti watched how Kynngi sat down again, her teeth showing menacingly. “Already out of arrows, seer?” asked Hveiti as she applauded at Mjǫllna. Only a grunt escaped Kynngi's lips.

“My will to go with you increased tenfold,” announced Megin-gjarð, hitting his chest as she spoke, “for this bride of yours is worth her weight in gold. Maybe in southern lands I might find a partner that my size won’t mind.”

Drakkar raised a shocked eyebrow, tapping his horn for a moment before replying. “I must admit as your friend that it's a mighty feat, to find a mare in which you could easily fit. But I don't see you marrying a peaceful mare; you, whose might not even Manegols dare.”

The flyting continued for almost an hour; masterful exchanges of good-natured insults that entertained all the guests, and even the shyest ponies added their own rounds. Even the skáld had his turn, though his mockery was tainted by desperation, but Drakkar outsmarted him as well, only to allow him to start with the first lygisogr. With a wide smile and a formal bow, the young skáld started with the so-called 'lying stories'. It featured the misadventures of a youngster and his failed attempts at getting a mare to call his own, only to marry a mysterious mare from a distant city where the families of those mares he tried to woo before wouldn't find him. More successful stories came after that one, and the crowd laughed, ate and drank until way past sunset.

-o-

Following the standard traditions, Mjǫllna was escorted inside Drakkar's family's longhouse. Her mother and grandmother, as well as Drakkar's mother and sister, followed her, with Saðmatr on the lead carrying a torch light. Once they reached the bedroom, Eldstaðr pulled a bed sheet from her saddlebags and tugged it into place with Vínviðr help. Once they were done, they placed Mjǫllna on the feather mattress where Drakkar would soon join her. The four corners of the bed were decorated with small golden figurines that represented the Vanr Freyr embracing his wife, the giantess Gerd.

“This was much better than I could ever imagine!” cried Mjǫllna as she lay gently on the right side of the bed, her teeth shining in her ecstatic grin.

“I'm so proud of you, Mjǫllna,” said her mother while wiping her tears of joy.

“We should leave so the groom can come in,” added Hani with a nod, showing a mischievous smile before speaking again. “Come on, we don't want to keep him waiting.”

Sharing loud giggles, Hveiti and Hani walked outside the house as Mjǫllna's mother and grandmother snuggled her, proudly grinning at the bride before Saðmatr took them out as well. As the last of them left the house and closed the door behind her, Mjǫllna could hear a crowd of ponies laughing outside. After a short moment, the group of ponies entered the room leaded by Veiðǫr, who was leading them with a torchlight as well. The six witnesses escorted Drakkar inside the bedroom, and stood around the bed as the groom took his place next to the bride. Once there, Mjǫllna sat up and lowered her head slightly, at which Drakkar nodded and rested his hooves on the bridal crown. He gently put it on the aside on the nearby endtable, earning the witnesses' approving nods.

“Congratulations, Þegn Drakkar,” said his father with a formal salute.

“Father, such formalities aren't necessary,” he replied with a light blush.

“Well, I'm sure that the couple might want to consummate the marriage,” said the Jarl, turning around and gesturing with his hoof for the rest to follow. “We'll meet tomorrow morning for the last part of the ceremony, þegn. Fare you well until then.”

With that, the witnesses left the room and closed the door behind them. Finding peace at least, Drakkar let himself fall heavily on his back, letting out a relaxed sigh. Just as he closed his eyes, delighting himself on the woolen bed sheet caressing his body, Mjǫllna quickly climbed up on top of him while showing a brazen grin.

“Finally!” she said, slowly leaning down to reach Drakkar's lips, stopping mere inches away from him. “You were almost as eager to be here as I was.” Sitting up on his lap, she unceremoniously took off her bronze circlet and placed it on her own end table. With a tired huff, Mjǫllna rested both hooves on the coarse headboard. “Drakkar, please, help me get this chain shirt off. I can't stand this anymore!”

Drakkar nodded and grabbed the end of the chain shirt, slowly pulling up while holding back a chuckle. “I really appreciate how far you went to make yourself feel like a Fimbulvetrian wife,” he admitted. “But I told you that you didn't need to do anything special.”

“Yeah, I'm regretting it right now,” she replied, sitting up and raising her hooves in the air. “I'll probably laugh when we tell this story back in Ponyville.” Drakkar sat up on the bed and slowly finished pulling off the chain shirt, letting it fall heavily on the floor. “Ah, freedom at last! I feel so light again!” she cried as she moved her forelegs and torso, after which she embraced herself, caressing her uncovered fur. “And now, Drakkar, time to consummate the marriage.” Mjǫllna slowly caressed his chest, climbing up to his neck and resting his hoof on the bear's paws. Instinctively, Drakkar's eyes widened and he clenched the pelt with both hooves, shaking his head vigorously and almost sinking on the mattress.

“Oh, come on, Drakkar, please! Only in bed!” she pouted playfully while drawing circles on his chest. “I want to feel you and only you.”

“Mjǫllna, I can't. I've never been—”

“Shhh.” Mjǫllna rested her hoof on his mouth before speaking. “First and most important: your hooves don't go there. Your hooves go...” Mjǫllna lifted Drakkar's hooves. With a brazen smirk, she guided them over her sides, sliding downwards from her chest to her waist and finally to her rump. “Here. Keep them there because I'm not done yet. Drakkar, I'm your wife now, which means a lot of things. Most of them, you'll find out tonight,” she admitted, adding a wink before turning serious. “But the most important of them all is this one.” Mjǫllna rested her forehooves on the pillow, Drakkar's head lying between them. She then showed an honest smile before saying, “I will protect you from now on.” Drakkar stared at her with a raised eyebrow, yet Mjǫllna resume speaking before he had a chance to argue. “You are my husband, and you are to protect me, but I will also do the same. In our privacy, with only you and me, you don't need Gisli to defend you. You won't need her anymore. I want to take her place as your life partner and protector.”

Mjǫllna lowered her head and reached Drakkar's lips, connecting together in a passionate kiss. As their tongues wrestled fiercely inside their mouths, the mare slowly lifted one of the paws and try to untie the knot. As she lifted the bear's legs from around his neck, Drakkar clenched her rump, getting tickled on his hind legs by Mjǫllna's waggling tail as she let out a short moan. Her right hoof slid under his back, leaning the left one on the bed to pull him up. One their bodies stood together, Mjǫllna surrounded Drakkar in a tight embrace, caressing the back of his head as she noticed his grasp slowly softening. When the kiss ended, Drakkar opened his eyes and stared at Mjǫllna's eyes, unaware that she slowly pulled the pelt out of the bed, leaving it on top of his endtable. Still wrapped in her warm forelegs, Drakkar rested his head on her shoulder as she caressed her mane and kissed his forehead.

“There you go. It wasn't that hard, right?” asked Mjǫllna with a tender voice. Her forelegs caressed his mane away from his back and head, getting to see him freed from the pelt for the first time. “Sweet Celestia, you look even better without it!” she added with a chuckle. Drakkar let out a short nicker, resting a hoof upon his shoulder with a slightly displeased grimace. Mjǫllna then pushed him to the mattress, her tail waggling and ears pointing at the ceiling. “And now,” she said, licking her lips in anticipation as she looked at him with hungry eyes, “let's put all those fertility blessing to a good use.”

-o-

The fireplace had long since gone dark when Drakkar woke up. He let out out a soft groan and turned to his left to see the gentle sunlight coming in through the smoke hole in the ceiling. The sound of scratching paper made the ear that wasn't smothered between his head and the pillow perk up. He turned around to see his now wife sitting on the edge of the bed, seemingly writing down something on a patch of paper. He lost himself in Mjǫllna's back, contemplating it as she was focused on finishing whatever she was doing. Drakkar had really grown fond of the sight of her back since last night. While writing, Mjǫllna gently played with her mane, for some locks were still stuck to her back and loin. He patiently waited until Mjǫllna left the quill on the small table before sitting up on the bed and surrounding her chest with both forelegs in a tight embrace.

“I'm surprised you have enough strength to get up this early,” taunted Drakkar as he snuggled her neck, getting a giggle from her.

Mjǫllna playfully leaned her head back to further enjoy her husband's affections. “I'm used to working with a big hammer for hours without needing a break,” she replied while caressing his horn with the tip of her hoof. “I'm surprised you could open your eyes at all!”

“Being a seasoned warrior and hunter also grants some decent stamina.”

Mjǫllna raised an eyebrow as she looked for Drakkar's eyes from her position. “Decent? I thought Scandineighvians were much more boastful.”

“I only boast about things that are true, and you are the judge of that,” he replied as he focused his attention on the paper on the table. “What's this, by the way?”

“Matron Saðmatr told me to write down the dreams I had last night,” she explained, gently resting her head on Drakkar's shoulder. “It's supposed to have some prophetic knowledge about our future foals and our marriage.” Her eyes finally met Drakkar's, which were slowly surfing across the written words. “Do you understand what it might mean?”

“I'm afraid not,” he admitted with a shake of her head. “It says here you see yourself wielding a shield and a spear, with a raven resting on each shoulder. That's a good omen to me. The ravens of the All-Father are with you. And I can see you will honor Gleipna's warrior heritage.”

A chuckle escaped Mjǫllna's lips. “You're so adorable when you speak so highly of me.”

“I'd say that you shouldn't trust my word about this,” admitted Drakkar with a light blush, “but I appreciate your compliment. As for the rest of the dream, it seems to focus about the Sun.”

“I know, right?” Mjǫllna sit up straight, scratching the back of her head as she shrugged weakly. “It wasn't something relevant, but it was always there.”

“Should I be worried about Shining Armor being part of your dream?” asked Drakkar with a mocking smirk, getting smacked in the neck as a reply. “Ouch!”

She showed the same devilish grimace that he had mere moments ago. “You're already questioning my loyalty, huh?” The smile slowly faded away as she looked at the paper. “But it's true that he was there. I don't know why. He granted us a soldier to train. I'm not sure, but I think he's going to be part of our lives.”

“Or he's going to trust us with something,” added Drakkar. With a shrug, he put the paper back on the table. “Well, the dream wasn't that long, apparently.”

“Well, you didn't let me sleep that much,” replied Mjǫllna with a giggle, playfully tapping the bed with her hooves.

A lavish smile drew on Drakkar's face as she looked at Mjǫllna through the corner of his eye. “That reminds me...” He slowly turned to her, quickly pouncing over her and making her fall on her back on the bed. Resting his weight on his four knees, Drakkar stood mere inches over his wife.

“Oh, the Jǫrmungandr has woken from his slumber!” she said between giggles, her waggling tail softly beating Drakkar's hind legs. “I'm totally at his mercy!” As they snuggled together for a moment, Mjǫllna rested her hooves tenderly on his shoulders giving his lips a lavish lick. “Shouldn't we have something for breakfast at least?”

“I'm having you for breakfast!” Drakkar then grabbed Mjǫllna's face with both hooves and pulled it towards him, their lips joining in a fiery kiss that stole the mare's breath. Mjǫllna kicked one of his hind legs, her right hoof pulling his head against her and the left one trying to have him fall on top of her. The kiss was short, but when Mjǫllna separated from him, she gave his lips an upwards lick, staring at his eyes while breathing heavily. “By Jǫrd, how I love when you do that!” he added with an allured huff, tightly grabbing Mjǫllna's rump, getting a pleased moan in return.

Stretching her forelegs to clench the edges of the bed, Mjǫllna leaned her head back, speaking in the pitch that turned Drakkar into the stallion she lusted for the previous night. “Well, you know what to do to keep me going. Don't hold back, my þegn, and take me wildly once more!”

With a vigorous huff matching his lavish eyes, Drakkar dove to Mjǫllna's neck, teasing her with his warm breath. As he slowly caressed her body upwards and rested his hooves on her heaving chest, there was a knock at the other side of the door. With deep frowns, the couple turned to face the door. “What?” they shouted together, looking at each other for a moment before getting a reply.

“M-m-my þegn,” stuttered a female voice, “w-we have to take the bride for a moment. We have to don her in the hustrulinet.”

With a resigned growl, Drakkar sat up on the bed, massaging his forehead in an attempt to calm down before grunting. “Give us a minute.” Mjǫllna burst into laughter as Drakkar looked up with an exasperated look on his face. “Not even married are we going to be allowed to have our moments. Damn you, wretched trickster!”

“Oh, come on, Drakkar!” interjected Mjǫllna, barely able to speak in her laughter. “You can't possibly expect Loki to be the one making sure we don't have a moment together. I'm sure he has better plans than thwarting our having sex.”

A defeated sigh escaped his lips before Drakkar slowly got out of bed towards his pelt. “I don't know, but even if he isn't behind this, I can't think what else might be.”

“Well, we still have six days worth of festivities anyway,” replied Mjǫllna with a playful voice as she picked up the chain shirt. “That means we have six more nights. And then the rest of the month. Mead and lust aplenty for us!” She sat down at the edge of the bed to put the chain shirt on, which was much easier than removing it the previous night. She then reached the circlet that she left on the table, right next to the paper where she had written her dream down, and put it on her head. She smiled brightly before jumping of the bed. “You're too quiet. Did the promise of fierce passion get you speechless?” she joked as she turned around to face him. Her joy faded away when she saw her husband's terrified glare. “Drakkar?” She rushed to his side, resting a hoof on his shoulder as she spoke. “Drakkar, what's going on?”

“I... I don't feel her,” he replied, his lower lip trembling as he clenched the pelt's paw with all his strength.

“What? How can that be?” Mjǫllna stared at Drakkar, sobbing and looking away from her. “No, no, no, don't feel sad.” Mjǫllna gave him a tight hug, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “Remember what I said last night. I will protect you from now on.” Drakkar returned the embrace, his wife unaware of the shocked look he had. Under the pelt, a shiver fell from his shoulders where it rested to the base of his tail where the the bear's skin ended. Mjǫllna slowly broke the hug, but still kept close to him, her hooves resting on his chest as his grabbed her shoulders. “I am your wife now,” she started, a tender voice that, with the caresses she offered, seemed to be calming him down. “That means that I am here for you in your moments of weakness. Whenever you become too weak to raise your axe, I'll step forward and smite those threats with my hammer. Our family's burden is not only yours.” With a humble smile, Mjǫllna moved some locks of mane away from Drakkar's face, wiping away the lonely tear that roguishly flowed down his cheek. “Nothing will ever be anymore.”

“Mjǫllna, please, hurry up!” insisted Saðmatr from the other side of the door.

“Go, Mjǫllna,” said Drakkar, carefully pushing her away.

“But—”

Drakkar rested a hoof on Mjǫllna's lips, shaking her weak with a weak smile. “The ceremony's almost done. I... will find something out. I always do.” Mjǫllna remained in front of him, his gentle pushing not getting her any further. “Look, we're going to see each other again. The morgen-gifu is the last requirement for making the wedding official.”

“But what are you going to do until they call you?” she asked, getting a sad frown from him.

“What I've always done when I needed an answer of something nopony can help me with,” he replied as he sat down on the floor, resting his weight on his forehooves. “Pray to the Æsir and Vanir for one.”

Mjǫllna remained next to him for a brief moment, only to look at the door when they knocked at it again. With a saddened sigh, she knelt down and pecked his cheek. “I'll be back with you when we're done.”

With a defeated nod, Drakkar watched his wife trot towards the room, letting out a heartbroken sob when Mjǫllna closed the door behind her. Taking the pelt off again, he stared at Gisli's sewn eyes with a desolated shake of his head. “What does this mean, Gisli?” he asked, desperation twisting his voice. “Why aren't you here with me anymore?”

-o-

Putting the kerchief on didn't take long, but the result wasn't pleasing for anyone in Mjǫllna's family. Though it was a beautifully crafted cloth with metallic brocaded threads with runes that read “Hammer and Anvil”, her long mane had become a bulky mess when covered by the hustrulinet.

“I feel like I have a hive of parasprites on my head,” whispered Mjǫllna to her family while frowning.

Both mares let out a chuckle, and Eldstaðr rested a comforting hoof on her shoulder. “When we're back in Equestria, you'll be able to take it off.”

“Just make sure to keep it in a safe place,” warned Vínviðr with a stern look. “You must wear it as a token of your status here in Fimbulvetr.”

“I know, I know,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Sweet Celestia, combing this back to normal is going to be horrible!”

The rest of the guests and witnesses chatted with each other while Megin-gjarð knocked on the door to call Drakkar out. Hveiti still kept close watch of Kynngi, her anger focused on the lucky wife. With a straightforward pace, Hani got next to Mjǫllna and her family, looking at the door as she leaned closer to the bride.

“What have you two be doing in there,” she asked with a jokingly voice, “that he's taking so long to come out?”

A nicker escaped Mjǫllna's lips as her ears drooped ever so slightly. “He's fine. He's just saying some prayers to summon good omens upon us.” A frown was the only answer she got from Hani. “You can never have enough blessings from the Æsir, he said,” she added with a nervous smile.

“What happened?” insisted Hani, her own ears totally drooped in fear.

“I wish I knew, Hani,” she admitted with a defeated voice. “He said that—”

“About time you came out, Drakkar!” cried Megin-gjarð as he patted his friend's back with enough strength to make him stumble.

“Hey, I want my husband healthy for the coming honeymoon!” cried Mjǫllna, getting loud laughs and approving cheers from almost every attending pony. Among the crowd, Kynngi scratched the ground with her hoof, growling with seething fury. “Is everything alright?” she whispered to his ear.

“Everything is clear now,” was the only thing he said. A serious look was the sole thing she saw on his face, but the matron's voice forced them to look at her.

“And now, for the final step of the marriage,” announced Saðmatr with pride, gesturing for Veiðǫr to come closer, “the groom shall offer the morning gift to the bride.” Veiðǫr stepped forward, stretching a hoof holding a small box. With a solemn nod, Drakkar took it and turned to Mjǫllna, opening it in front of her. Seven ounces of silver coins shone brightly at the early sunlight as they went from Drakkar's hooves to Mjǫllna's. “And now the wedding is—”

“Not yet,” interjected Drakkar, getting everypony's attention, as well as a devilish smile from Kynngi. “There's something else I want to add to the offering.” With a nod, he slowly caressed Mjǫllna's hoof before holding it against his chest. “From this day, I am now a full-fledged stallion with all the rights and expectations on my shoulders. Right now, before me, stands the mare I've sworn to protect and take care of. And for that...” When he let Mjǫllna's hoof go to reach his pelt, everypony looked at each other, sharing confused stares. However, they were shortly followed by loud gasps and widened eyes when, in front of all the witnesses, Drakkar took of Gisli's pelt and, with a swift move, let it fall on Mjǫllna's back. His wife's astonishment made it easy for him to tie the paws around her neck. “I bestow the blessing of Gisli upon you. A stallion worth marrying should depend solely on his own to be the pony his wife desires and his foals look up to becoming, and she will guard you whenever I'm not close enough to do it myself.”

Nopony dared say a word as the crowd stared, confusion plain on their faces. Only one mare was able to mutter a few words before turning away and leaving during the outburst of joy that came after the couple kissed.

“I accept you as worthy, Mjǫllna,” whispered Kynngi as she dodged the enthusiast crowd. Once free from the claustrophobia-inducing throng of ponies, she breathed deeply, and spoke once more without looking back. “Take care of him for me.” Kynngi then galloped away, going unnoticed across the streets.

“And with this, the wedding is officially complete!” announced Saðmatr, a proud smile shining on her face.

“The celebration starts at noon,” said Megin-gjarð while giving a soft blow on Drakkar's elbow. “I hope you're ready for the wrestling tournament.”

“You can bet your shield I am,” replied Drakkar with a wide smile. “But it's still early.” He walked towards a small tree on the path, staring down at the shadow it projected before covering his eyes and looking at the Sun. “Well, I think it's about... nine in the morning right now.”

“We have three hours before the celebration starts,” said Megin-gjarð with a shrug. “Do you have anything in mind?”

Drakkar looked at Mjǫllna through the corner of his eye, both ponies showing a lust-filled gaze. “I have something in mind, yes.” He then walked with determined step towards Mjǫllna, only to grab her from the waist and lifting her over his head for a moment and resting her on his shoulder, his cheek leaned on her flank. The grasp became more difficult when Mjǫllna's giggle was followed by a frenzied tail-waggling, and he had to catch it to see where he was going. He then turned to the rest of the crowd, saluting before bidding farewell by saying, “I'll see you there in three hours,” after kicking the door open.

“By the Æsir, Mjǫllna!” cried Eldstaðr, concern heavily rasping her voice, yet unable to hold back her laughter at the scene.

The now officially married couple entered the marital room, the laughter from the crowd only being upped by the cheering and clapping from Hani and Hveiti.

“Don't worry about me, mother!” replied Mjǫllna with a wink. “Trust me; I'll be fine!”

Author's Note:

I might've missed some of the Norse translations, due to this taking much longer than expected. Feel free to point them out and I'll translate them here.

Hustrulinet: The headdress worn by married women.

Comments

[1234]

This story was such an absolute joy to read.
10/10 will read again.

[iowaforever]

I liked this a lot. Probably one of the better romance stories I've read here.
And I also find myself wanting more

[WildStallion]

Awesome. and somehow I want an epilogue, just to see what happens after.

[Midnight Blues]

This was great!
I'm kinda expecting a sequel what with that dream and all.

[Mänic]

I certainly hope that there will be either an epilogue or a sequel

[Brony of the Revolution]

I think this is a wonderful story! I hope to see an epilogue or a sequel in the future.

[ViktornovaMk2]

Applejack for Megin-gjar.......just saying!

Very good story!

[Puzzle Reader]

This was a very good story!
I'm glad to see that Kynngi ended up accepting Mjollna and not making trouble for her in the end. I hope she can reconcile with her own husband, the poor mare.

[LotusTeaDragon]

I loved it.

Also, I now want a Norse wedding.

[-Brutus]

3357050 This.

[Simon_oSullivan]

4056768

Actually, there are several different transcriptions of the word, and most of them are valid as long as you keep it consistent and always use the same one. It happens with several words, such as Mjollnir, which has also several ways to write it depending on the source you check. Though I might add that I shall check that replace that ö with an ogonek (that probably slipped)

[keam]

4056816
Ok, I understand...
Mjollnir
Yep, probably, since we probably in Sweden would want to correct it to mjölner...

[Syndicate Luna]

is this story still alive? cause i find it a very good read and i want moar

[Simon_oSullivan]

4098905 This one is actually over (see the Complete tag), but I'm working on the second book of the saga. The first chapter is on the proofreading phase, and I'll get the tablet to start working on the cover art for it. Once all that is done, I'll start publishing. My writing is slow, I'll admit that, but I'm glad that the long work makes it worth reading for so many people.

[keam]

*squee*
Onwards to the sequel!

[Harmony Pie]

[Prince Jules Moonshade]

Grate story! Thanks for the awesome read!