The Lovers' Edda

by Simon_oSullivan

First published 8th of October, 2012

A love story of two ponies from the frozen lands of the North.

Drakkar, a pony from the Frozen North, is sent to Equestria to update the maps they have in Scandineighvia. Once he arrives to Ponyville, though, he finds out that there's a descendant of one of his townfolks living there.

Hestrinn af Nordi

The Lovers’ Edda

Hestrinn af Norði (The stallion from the North)

Fluttershy got up that morning with the gentle chirps of her birds, like every morning. With a quick stretch and a yawn, she got out of bed after rubbing the rheum from her eyes.

“Good morning, my little friends,” said Fluttershy as she brushed her bed-mane. “I’ll get your breakfast in a minute.”

With a gentle flap of her wings, she flew down the stairs to the ground floor and trotted joyfully to the kitchen. After opening one of the larders, she took a few cans of birdseed for the chickens and birds and left them on the table. She then turned to get the can opener and a few carrots for Angel. She placed the carrots on the table and picked up the first can, when a roar outside made the tool fall from her hooves.

“Oh, dear, Harry’s in trouble!” cried Fluttershy, galloping out the door in a panic. Before she reached the door, though, she heard a second roar. “That doesn’t sound like Harry,” she said in shock. “Maybe it’s a new friend for Harry! But they appear to be arguing, I have to tell them to stop and be friends!”

Nothing could’ve prepared her for what she saw outside. Harry the Bear was there, roaring at a large brown unicorn stallion with a very long, dark yellow mane and tail who was roaring back at him. The pitch was different, but he sounded just like a bear. Fluttershy noticed that the newcomer had the head of a roaring bear as a cutie mark, and wore a bear pelt as a cloak, with the forelegs tied around his neck as a scarf. His horn and throat glowed with a dark brown light every time he roared.

Fluttershy stood frozen in place as a whirlwind of emotions rushed through her. She was scared at the sight of the newcomer and the fight he was having with her ursine friend. When she noticed that he was wearing the skin of an animal, she whimpered and looked away, disgusted. For a moment, she thought that was actually the reason why Harry was so angry at him. However, after a couple of minutes, what appeared to be a heated argument soothed down as both the stallion and the bear became silent. Harry sat down and offered his paw to the stallion, who replied by taking it and shaking it, then bowing respectfully. Both roared again, but Fluttershy recognized the friendly tone of it.

The large stallion turned to greet Fluttershy, who trembled and stepped back.

“Are you the owner of this land?” asked the stallion. His voice sounded deep, with a strong accent that Fluttershy had never heard before.

“P-please… please, don’t hurt me…” stuttered Fluttershy, covering her head with her hooves.

Behind both ponies, Harry roared softly. She looked up as the bear kept talking to her and soothing her.

“Are you saying,” said Fluttershy with an awed expression, “he’s… a friend? But you were very angry at him.”

Harry nodded and growled a few times, to which Fluttershy blinked in disbelief.

“Really?” She turned to meet the large stallion standing in front of her. “But he looks so scary. And he’s wearing one of your friends’ skin! That’s… that’s just… horrible!” Even though the sight of him made Fluttershy shudder, she couldn’t keep a disgusted frown from her face.

“I can explain that if you allow me, Harry,” the stallion said. He hit his chest with a hoof. “I am Drakkar, Hoofcarl at the service of the Jarl Winter Blizzard from the land of Scandineighvia, far beyond the mountains, deep in the Frozen North.”

“Y-you’re… you’re from the Frozen North?” Fluttershy stared at him with her mouth wide open.

“That’s a story I’ll tell you later. I see you’re more concerned about my cloak.” Drakkar looked around him with a small grin. “Considering how much you seem to love animals, you must see me as some kind of monster.”

Fluttershy nodded, then shrank back, fearing an attack. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want ponies that harm animals here.”

“I understand…” Harry growled to him shortly, to which he smiled kindly. “Fluttershy, is it?” She tilted her head, still still trying to hide herself with her hooves. “You see, Fluttershy, in my homeland, this bear pelt is the sign of my rank as a Hoofcarl. However, we don’t hunt bears. They’re our spiritual guides and a sacred animal for my people. In fact, we wear their pelts to draw their strength and endurance to help us defend our homeland. But we don’t hunt them for the pelts, we take them ritually only when… when they don’t need them anymore, to put it in a simple way.”

“So you… respect animals?” Fluttershy started to get up very slowly, casting him a sidelong glance, eyebrows furrowed.

“Especially bears. Unicorns such as me are taught a spell that allows us to translate our voice into roars so we can communicate with them. We’re also taught their language, which explains why I was able to maintain this heated argument with Harry here. However, we hunt and fish when necessary; snowy fields aren’t the best to grow on.”

Fluttershy’s jaw dropped, and she sat down heavily while covering her mouth with her hooves, holding back the nausea.

“I should definitely stop talking about it,” Drakkar said politely. “Besides, I’ve been traveling a lot recently, and it’s easy to get used to the food around these parts.”

“So… you’re not going to—”

“Not even one, Fluttershy.” Drakkar moved closer and knelt to meet her eyes. “You have my word as a hoofcarl.”

“O… okay.” Fluttershy was still terrified by the giant stallion. However, she felt the same fear when Zecora used to come some time ago, and she had learned not to judge a book by its cover since then.

Drakkar got up and walked back to leave room for Fluttershy to get up. She flapped her wings timidly to stand on her four legs.

“Have you just arrived to Ponyville, sir?” she asked, starting to sound more informal and relaxed.

“Just ‘Drakkar’, I don’t like formalities. And yes, I’ve been traveling through Equestria for quite some time. I’ve been to Appleoosa — darn, would I call those bar fights! Still far from those at the meadery of Ǫlpottr in my homeland! Let me tell you, you don’t know what getting drunk is until you wake up face down in the snow field!” Drakkar burst into laughter, while Fluttershy snickered uncomfortably. Drakkar looked abashed at her expression. “I… understand that you might not be a heavy drinker.”

“Just… cider when it’s available, and only a mug.”

“Fair enough. But back to my previous point. You see,” he began as he took a map from inside the pelt, “every generation, hoofcarlar are sent in times of peace to update the maps from outer lands. I am in charge of mapping Equestria. Or at least, checking if there are new cities. I’ve already been to Appleoosa, Manehattan and Fillydelphia. After a few days of wandering through the forest, I got to what I guess is Ponyville.”

“Yes, this is Ponyville,” said Fluttershy with a gentle nod.

“In that case, I should introduce myself to the one in charge. Can you tell me how to get there?”

“Oh, umm… actually, I was going to feed the animals. If you don’t mind, I can take you there after I’m done.”

Drakkar hit himself on the chest. “I appreciate your hospitality, Fluttershy. In Scandineighvia, we consider being a good host one of the greatest virtues a pony could have.”

“Oh… thank you, but it’s nothing. I’m always like this.” Fluttershy blushed lightly, but couldn’t fully hide her smile behind her mane.

“I’ll help you feed the animals. You seem to have a little army here,” he said with a snort.

Fluttershy looked nervously at him, shaking her head. “Oh, it’s okay, I’ll take care of everything.”

“Being a good host is an important virtue,” repeated Drakkar, “but we’re also helpful guests. I insist on aiding you. Besides, the sooner we finish here, the sooner we can go meet the lord in charge.”

“Umm, actually, the owner is a she: Mayor Mare.”

“Alright then, let’s start feeding the animals here.”

Fluttershy nodded as she trotted inside her house. Drakkar wandered a little through the yard when he noticed something tackling his leg. With a raised eyebrow, he turned to see a young wild boar poking him with its tusks.

Drakkar snorted and kneeled to meet the creature face to face. “Well, what an interesting guy we have here. Want to play?”

The wild boar jumped back with a low squeak and lowered its head, to which Drakkar replied by crouching and getting ready to receive the animal’s tackle, being careful to ensure that the boar wouldn’t be hurt by his horn. After taking a short run-up, the young wild boar charged towards him, bashing its head with Drakkar’s. The stallion stumbled a bit but didn’t fall; the young animal, however, had fallen on its side. It got up and ran in circles for a while.

“Wow, not bad at all for a little boar! Do you think you can go for a second round?”

The little wild boar hopped gleefully and got ready for a second tackle, but this time they were interrupted by a furious Fluttershy.

“Oh, no no no!” she cried as she galloped to stand in the middle of them. “What did I tell you, little one? No fighting!” She then turned to Drakkar, shouting and using her wings to lift herself to his eye level. “And what do you have to say for yourself, Drakkar?! You gave me your word, and the moment I turn my back, you’re attacking one of my patients!”

“Fluttershy, it’s okay,” said Drakkar, taking a step back. He raised a hoof, gesturing at her to calm down. “We were just playing, and he was having fun, right, little friend?” The wild boar hopped and nodded, oinking happily.

After hearing the young animal’s joyful sounds, Fluttershy calmed down and landed. She lowered her head and walked over to the young animal. “Sorry for that, I just don’t want him to get hurt.” She snuggled the wild boar, to which he replied by rolling over, expecting her to rub his belly. “Also, I’m afraid that I have to go and buy some food for myself.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Drakkar looked at the young wild boar and winked at him. “Don’t worry, little one, we’ll play some more when we return.”

“I don’t really want to cause you any trouble, Drakkar.”

“It’s not trouble. It’s a good way to see the town and check if the reports have to be updated. Besides, if we get close to the town hall, I might be able to introduce myself to the mayor.”

“Oh… okay, if you want to come, I don’t mind.”

“Let’s get going then,” said Drakkar. Both ponies walked away, but he turned back and waved to the young wild boar. “I'll be back in a moment, little boar!”

-o-

Drakkar and Fluttershy wandered around the town square, searching for the food stands. The stallion watched in awe the large amount of ponies selling their goods of all kind, from the most exquisitely crafted jewelry to simple kitchen tools. Most ponies stared at the odd couple, but returned to their business when the giant stallion walked past their stalls.

“This is amazing!” he exclaimed. “I’ve never seen so many ponies and stands in the same place. And so many different things!”

“Don’t you have as many stands in Scandineighvia?” asked Fluttershy with a raised eyebrow.

“I can’t be certain. We aren’t famous for our broad selection of goods. We mostly eat jerky, salted fish and the occasional berries and, save for the latter, the rest can stay edible for a very long time. I know it must sound disgusting to you, but it’s the only thing we have there.” He looked around with an air of curiosity. “As for the rest of our things, we go for efficiency. So we don’t craft stuff to be pretty, save for jewelry, and that’s mostly only seen in nobility or as a wedding gift.”

“It’s okay. By the way, your name sounds a bit… odd. Sorry, it’s just that—”

Drakkar laughed. “I could say the same about your name, Fluttershy. In my homeland, there are hardly any names that resemble the ones I’ve heard in Equestria. I’ve heard names like Octavia, Derpy, Carrot Top, Berry Punch… that last mare had interesting conversation and looked like she could beat some of my folks in a drinking game.”

During the course of the conversation and walk to the market, Fluttershy became more relaxed in Drakkar’s presence. He seemed to enjoy everything he saw, and she didn’t mind stopping every now and then to see the shops and what they had on sale. Despite his imposing size and looks, Drakkar was enjoyable company, though she tried to avoid looking at the bear pelt, which was still a terrifying sight for her. He spoke proudly of everything she asked about his homeland. It didn’t matter if he talked about his days in the military or the drunk stories at the meadery, his eyes shone with glee with every word.

“Then what are common names in your homeland?” asked Fluttershy after browsing through some shops.

“Well, we have the twins Ginnun and Gagap. Those little rascals are never up to any good. Then we have Ǫlpottr, the owner of the meadery, I already mentioned him at your house. A bit of a cheap pony, he never allows patrons to leave without paying and he’ll never accept paying another day. But if you have the blizzes to spend, he’ll make sure that your mug is never empty for too long.”

“Blizzes?” Fluttershy stared at him in confusion.

Drakkar levitated a small silver coin from a small bag covered with his bear pelt. “This is a blizz, our currency. They’re called like that because of the Blizzard Dynasty, the one ruling Scandineighvia for seven centuries. However, let’s get more names. I remember some of my hoofcarl mates, Rosta, Vigi, Varð and Veiði. Also—”

“Mjǫllna!” cried a mare behind them.

“Yeah, that’s actually a name I’d hear in Scandin—” Drakkar suddenly stopped walking with widened eyes. “It can’t be. Is there actually a pony named Mjǫllna here, in Equestria?”

“Mjǫllna?” Fluttershy tipped her chin for a moment. “Oh, right, she’s the blacksmith pony around here!”

“She’s a blacksmith? That really sounds like a mare of my hometown.” He looked around trying to find her.

“Umm… How can you try looking for her if you don’t know what she looks like?” Fluttershy inquired.

Drakkar’s ears fell down. “Now that I think of it, you’re right. But I’ve heard her name, so she must be close.” He looked back at Fluttershy with a weak smile. “I’m the first Scandineighvian pony who has traveled to Equestria in a generation, but there’s another folk of mine around here! I want to meet her and know why she’s here. We don’t leave our homeland without a strong reason.”

“Oh… okay. I’ll help you find her, if that’s okay with you.”

“Thanks, Fluttershy.” Drakkar perked up his ears and looked around. “She must be around here!”

“Over here, Mjǫllna!” cried a mare from a group of three that were taking care of a flower stand.

Drakkar turned to meet the three florists and saw Mjǫllna. At first he wasn’t sure that she was the one, but he changed his mind as soon as he overheard her voice. She had the Scandineighvian accent, though it was mixed with the local one. Her cutie mark, a hammer with a bolt of lightning, was quite similar to the ones his folks had. Her long, cream mane rested gracefully over her shoulders, contrasting perfectly with her tan fur. She had a sturdy build, but not too much; a fit, but not overly muscular mare. To Drakkar’s eyes, she definitely was the epitome of Norse beauty.

“I have to talk to her. I must know why she’s here,” insisted Drakkar. “I’ll be back in a moment, Fluttershy.”

Drakkar trotted hastily, dodging ponies in his way to meet Mjǫllna. However, the sight of such huge pony wearing the skin of a savage animal caused the florists to gawk in fear and yell. When the three mares ran away, Mjǫllna looked back with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh… sorry about that,” he said, pointing at the fleeing mares.

“Oh, it’s okay, there’s always something that creeps them out,” she said with a soft snort as she turned to see them running. With a smile, she turned back to him, blinking a few times. “Do I know you? I know it sounds odd, but you really look familiar. Have we met before?”

“I’m afraid that’s next to impossible. This is the first time I’ve left Scandineighvia.”

Mjǫllna’s jaw dropped. “You’re from Scandineighvia?”

“That’s right. I overheard your name among the crowd and it sounded like the ones at home, and I was really curious. I thought you were Scandineighvian too.”

“Oh, no, I was born here, but my great-grandmother moved from Scandineighvia to Equestria about half a century ago. She was pregnant when she moved, so my grandmother has full Scandineighvian blood. And from there, my family has crossed with Equestrian ponies, so my heritage is quite diluted.”

“Even so, you have a noticeable accent from the North, even if it’s slightly mixed with the one here.” Drakkar snickered, still unable to believe his luck. “This is unbelievable! You, a descendant of Scandineighvian ponies, here in Equestria!”

“I know, and you’re here too! It’s crazy!” Mjǫllna focused her attention on Drakkar’s bear pelt. “And look at this! My grandmother told me about this. A… hoofjarl? Hoofgar… No, hoofcarl!”

“That’s right!” cheered Drakkar with a wide grin. “Hoofcarl at the service of the Jarl Winter Blizzard!”

Mjǫllna stared at him with a surprised glare. “Wow! He’s still the Jarl? He was in charge when my great-grandmother moved to Ponyville!”

“Yes, he is. To be fair, he was too young to lead when the previous Jarl died, so they had a regent until he became an adult. By the way, what’s your great-grandmother’s name?”

She raised an eyebrow at Drakkar’s sudden curiosity about her ancestor. “Gleipna, why?”

Drakkar stared at Mjǫllna with widened eyes. “You… you’re a descendant of Gleipna!?”

“Do you know her?” she asked with a grin.

“Know her? Mjǫllna, your great-grandmother is one of the most famous shieldmares our land has ever seen. There’s a statue of her right in the center of the city. They even wrote an Edda for her! Every hoofcarl I can think of knows Gleipna’s Edda by heart.”

“Including you?” inquired Mjǫllna with an inquisitive look.

Drakkar blinked a few times, momentarily lost in Mjǫllna’s ravishing light tan eyes. “Including me, of course!”

“Can I hear it?” She paused for a second, then leaned forward with a grin. “No, wait, you have to come to my house. My grandmother must listen to it too!”

“Uhh, I’d love to, but I’m afraid that I only know it in our language, and with the translation it will lose a lot of the alliteration and rhythm. However, I can work on a crude translation so you can—” Drakkar stopped talking, blushing lightly. “Sorry, I’m assuming that you don’t understand Scandineighvian. I’m sure that your grandmother has taught you.”

Mjǫllna giggled playfully. “Oh, it’s okay, you don’t need to apologize. Truth be told, I know basic Scandineigvian; a few words and expressions that my grandmother uses every now and then when my mother’s not around. But I’d surely need to listen to the translated song, although I’d love to hear the original one too.” Mjǫllna then threw a charming glance at him and a playful smile. “My grandmother used to say that Scandineighvian ponies had outstanding singing voices.”

Drakkar snickered, looking up for a moment before starting back at her. “Well, I don’t know the opinion of Equestrian ponies. I haven’t sung for anypony aside from myself during my long journeys.”

“That’s too bad. We’ll, you’ll have a small group waiting for you when you have the translation ready,” Mjǫllna replied with a humble smile. “By the way, where are you staying?”

“Oh, actually I can’t say that I’m staying somewhere at the moment. I got to Fluttershy’s house and got into an argument with her bear.”

Mjǫllna burst into laughter. “You really are a Scandineighvian pony.”

“I also found this little wild boar, and we played tackling for a while. The young animal sure has a lot of energy.” Drakkar’s ears suddenly perked up and his eyes widened. “By Þórshamarr! “We’ve been talking for a long time! I told Fluttershy that I’d be away only a moment.”

“Looks like she’s coming,” said Mjǫllna, pointing at her.

Fluttershy trotted slowly towards them with a lowered head. “Umm, sorry to interrupt. I, um, just wanted to check if everything was alright. I was getting a bit worried.”

“No need to worry, Fluttershy. We were actually talking,” assured Drakkar with a smile.

“I saw you were taking awhile, so I went to buy the food on my own.”

Drakkar’s ears lowered as he looked down in shame. “Sorry, Fluttershy. I lost track of time.”

“So did I,” seconded Mjǫllna. “It’s unbelievable that I’m actually talking to a pony from my ancestors’ homeland!”

“If you want, I can go back home and leave you two here,” said Fluttershy, feeling as though she had interrupted something important between the ponies. “You can come back later, I’ll have lunch ready.”

“Oh, Fluttershy, it won’t be necessary.”

“But you don’t have a place to stay,” insisted Fluttershy. “And you can help me with the animals if you want to. I misjudged you this morning, and I want to make up for it.”

Drakkar nodded gently. “If you insist, I accept your generous offer. Besides, I’m looking forward to seeing that little wild boar again,” he added with a grin.

“I have to return to the smithy,” said Mjǫllna. “I came here looking for some flowers for my grandmother’s birthday next week, but I think that your song about Gleipna will make a much better gift. If you want to visit me at my workplace, just ask around and they’ll guide you!” Mjǫllna winked at Drakkar with a grin and a salute before turning back and trotting away. “Until we meet again, hoofcarl Drakkar!”

He stood motionless, staring at Mjǫllna as she moved away from them. Fluttershy turned to face him and noticed that he was barely paying attention to his surroundings.

“Umm, can we go home now?” asked Fluttershy timidly.

“Y-yeah, yeah, let’s go,” replied Drakkar, coming back to his senses.

Finnandi nyjan hluti

Finnandi nýjan hluti (Discovering new things)

The Sun was at its highest in the cloudless sky. Drakkar sat in Fluttershy’s courtyard, making an inverted hammer with some rocks. Meanwhile, the young wild boar stared at the stones with mild curiosity, sniffing at them occasionally.

“Þór, þiggj þessa gjǫfina ek yðarr ásju í mér ferðinni,” intoned Drakkar, keeping a hoof on his chest with his eyes closed.

The young animal oinked and squeaked at the sight of Fluttershy carrying a sack of animal feed. Drakkar turned around after he was done with the prayer and levitated the huge bag, much to Fluttershy’s relief.

“Thank you, Drakkar,” she said with shaky legs. “But you didn’t have to do anything. I always do this on my own.”

“I’ve already thanked Þór for his assistance,” replied Drakkar as he poured the feed in the trough. “Besides, I told you that I’d help you in whatever I could as a guest.”

“Oh, right. By the way, if it’s okay for me to ask… what were you saying? And what is that little sculpture you made out of stones?” asked Fluttershy, pointing at the rocky structure.

“This is a small offering to Þór, god of Thunder. There are no temples of our deities here in Equestria, so we make small offerings. As for an accurate translation to Equestrian, it’s something like ‘Thor, accept this offer for your protection in my journey’.”

“He protected you?” inquired Fluttershy while raising an eyebrow skeptically.

“Well, he can control the weather, so it’s a god I pray to during my long journey from the Frozen North to Equestria.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that, in the Frozen North, climate worked differently from here in Equestria.”

Drakkar raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, here in Equestria, the pegasi can remove the clouds from the sky, and can move the storm clouds and jump on them to make it rain.” Fluttershy lowered her ears as soon as Drakkar’s jaw dropped.

He stared at her with widened eyes. “You can control the weather? That’s unbelievable! Then what do your gods take care of?”

“Well, I’m not sure…” Fluttershy looked away, flustered as Drakkar walked closer to her, making it harder for her to think. “Oh, well, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna take care of the Sun and the Moon.”

Drakkar let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, so you have two goddesses.” Much to Fluttershy’s comfort, he took a few steps back away from her. “What stories do you have about them? Did they defeat a horde of giants from the underworld? Did they make a competition with the mightiest ponies of Equestria? I’d love to know about them!”

Fluttershy looked up to the sky, tapping the ground with a hoof and humming as she tried to remember a story.“W-well, we have the legend of the Mare in the Moon, about how Luna got corrupted and turned into Nightmare Moon. Celestia then sealed her in the Moon for a thousand years. When she returned from her imprisonment, the Elements of Harmony purged the evil Nightmare from Luna and she became nice again.”

Drakkar nodded in approval. “A nice story. I’d really love to hear the full story, with all the details and such.”

“Well, Twilight lives in the library,” said Fluttershy, pointing towards the direction where the building was. “You can find all the books you want there. And if you can’t find it there, I’m sure that Twilight can pull some strings to let you talk with the Princesses.” Fluttershy showed a tender smile as a squirrel climbed through her back and lay on her shoulder. “They’d love to tell—”

“Wait, wait, wait, hold on for a second,” interrupted Drakkar, shaking his head in disbelief. “Who’s this Twilight, who can speak with the goddesses? Is she the town’s high priestess? An oracle, perhaps?”

Fluttershy giggled at his questions. “Oh, no, she’s a good friend of mine. And we’ve also seen the Princesses. I took care of Celestia’s pet for a while.”

Drakkar stepped back in awe. “Otruligr!”

She perked up her ears and raised an eyebrow, the squirrel following suit. “What was that?”

“Oh, sorry,” said Drakkar, clearing his throat. “It means ‘unbelievable’. So you took care of Celestia’s pet?”

“That’s right. And then she came to pick her up.”

“So let me get this straight,” said Drakkar, pressing his forehead with a hoof. “She left the mystical divine plane where she lives to return to Equestria to pick her pet. Okay, I’ve heard crazier stories among my gods.”

“Mystical divine plane? Oh, no, she lives in the Royal Palace of Canterlot with her sister Luna.”

Drakkar’s ears perked up and his eyes widened to their limit. “Fluttershy, do you have any idea of what you’re insinuating? In Equestria, gods walk among mortals!”

Fluttershy cowered, covering herself with her wings. The squirrel ran away, hiding behind her. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know it was a bad thing!”

“No, no, Fluttershy, it’s not bad. It’s… it’s…” Drakkar’s words wouldn’t come out as he stared dumbfounded at Fluttershy. He sat on the ground, looking askance at her as she recovered from the previous fright. “It’s nothing like in Scandineighvia. We… our gods live in Ásgarð, the top of the Nine Realms. We have recorded stories about them, but we don’t see them in our daily lives.” He shook his head with a surprised grimace. “I have to write a lot more than I expected. All this information is unknown in my homeland!”

“Well, I don’t mind if you need to stay here longer if you help me at home. If you don’t mind, that is,” said Fluttershy, fearing that she sounded too bossy. “Also, I’m sure that you’ll love hanging around with Mjǫllna in the meantime.”

“Oh, that’s right! Do you by any chance know where her smithy is?”

Fluttershy shook her head sadly. “Sorry, but I’m sure that if you ask around, somepony will guide you.”

“I think I’ll pay her a visit.” Drakkar turned to the young wild boar. “Okay, young friend, I’m going out for a while, but I’ll be back tonight. Be a nice boar and don’t give problems to Fluttershy while I’m away, understood?”

The little animal replied by squeaking and running around in circles. Drakkar had grown fond of the young wild boar in a short time. They were quite common in his homeland, and represented protection, so having them as pets wasn’t unheard of. To Drakkar, playing with the young animal had brought a small piece of Scandineighvia back to him.

Drakkar then turned back at Fluttershy. ”Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Oh, yes, don’t worry. A couple of my friends are going to stop by for the day, so I’ll be fine.”

“Alright then, in that case—” Drakkar noticed the young wild boar’s tusks against his hoof. He snorted and looked at him as the animal hopped and walked back a bit. “You want to play a bit before I leave?” The wild boar nodded and oinked happily, to which Drakkar turned to Fluttershy. “Do you mind if we…”

“Sure, enjoy,” she replied with a smile. “I didn’t know that boars played like that. To be honest, he’s the first one I’ve taken care of. I thought he was a bully, but I’m glad to know that he just wanted to play.”

Drakkar and the young wild boar took a few steps back before charging against each other. When their heads collided, the animal stumbled and fell on his rear, slightly dazzled. After shaking his head, he hopped back and charged again towards Drakkar. This time, though, the stallion simply stood motionless, gritting his teeth for the incoming rush. The blow wasn’t that strong, but he still threw himself to the ground, pretending to lose the game. As soon as he laid on the grass, the wild boar rushed to get close to him, tickling him with the muzzle and licking all over Drakkar’s face.

Fluttershy witnessed the scene with a tender look on her face, barely noticing the chatting that was taking place far behind her.

“Hey, Fluttershy!” cried Rainbow Dash.

Fluttershy looked back and saw both Dash and Pinkie Pie rushing to meet her. “Hi, girls! You arrived earlier than planned. B-but that’s okay,” she said swiftly with a snicker. “It’s not that I don’t want to you be here or anything.”

“There’s not that much to do today,” said Rainbow Dash. “I woke up earlier than usual and did my exercise, and Pinkie said that they didn’t have too much work at Sugarcube Corner.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Hey, Fluttershy, who’s that stallion over there playing with a pig?” asked Pinkie Pie. The stallion was pushing the young wild boar around with his face, until the animal ran around him and under his legs.

“Well, well, Fluttershy, you kept it secret, huh?” said Rainbow Dash jokingly with a wink.

“Oh, no, it’s not what you think,” replied Fluttershy with a blush. “He’s a pony from Scandineighvia who arrived this morning.”

“Scandiwhatnow?” asked Dash with a raised eyebrow.

“Scandineighvia,” repeated Fluttershy. “He’s from the Frozen North.”

“Ooooh, exotic!” cheered Pinkie Pie bouncing around the other ponies. “It must be amazing; they can have ice cream all year long!”

“Well, he looks kinda awesome,” admitted Rainbow Dash with her forehooves crossed in front of her, “but seeing him wrestle with a little pig kinda ruins it for me. He doesn’t look that tough, no matter how big he is,” she added, shaking her head in disappointment.

“Do you want to talk to him and introduce yourselves? He’s staying here writing reports about Equestria for their ponies in Scandineighvia.”

“You mean like those friendship reports Twilight’s always writing to the Princess?” asked Dash.

“Maybe. He told me that he was sent here to update all the information he can gather of Equestria.”

“And you’re letting him? After all we’ve suffered with the changelings, a pony comes here to gather information about us and you let him?!” Dash flapped her wings and charged against Drakkar. “I’ll show him how we treat spies!”

“Rainbow Dash, wait!” cried Fluttershy. With widened eyes, she noticed that Pinkie had grabbed Dash’s tail and was flying with her. “Pinkie!”

“Oooh this is going to be amazing!” said Pinkie Pie, clapping with her hind hooves in anticipation.

Rainbow Dash tackled Drakkar’s side at high speed. However, due to the stallion’s large size, he just stumbled several steps back coughing violently, the wind having got knocked out of him. Rainbow Dash, on the other hoof, fell to the ground as the collision made her fall face first to the ground. To add to her pain, Pinkie Pie landed on her back, laughing carelessly and asking for another ride. When they looked up from her prone position, they saw the large stallion with an angry stare in front of them. He looked much more threatening from down there. Drakkar growled at Dash, and the young wild boar tackled her sides, pushing her away.

“Drakkar, don’t!” shouted Fluttershy as she ran towards them. “She’s my friend!”

With a loud hush, Drakkar made the young wild boar cease his attack. “Who are you and why do you attack me?” he asked angrily.

“Because you’re a spy for the changelings!” accused Rainbow Dash, pointing at his chest.

“Changelings?” repeated Drakkar with a raised eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t have changelings in your home land?” asked Fluttershy.

“Maybe we call them differently. What do they do?”

“They’re ugly shmugly meanies that can turn into other ponies and feed on love!” shouted Pinkie Pie with exaggerated waves.

Drakkar stared at them, blinking a few times. “No, we don’t have anything like that in Scandineighvia. We have jǫtnar, ulfvetir—”

“Oh, oh, I can make up words too!” announced Pinkie Pie proudly. “Chimicherrichanga! Sprinklipie!”

“No, Pinkie, he’s speaking in Scandineighvian,” corrected Fluttershy. “But I don’t know what he means.”

“I was just trying to think about the names they have in my homeland,” he replied with a shake of a hoof. “I mentioned giants and winter wolves. And even though I’m trying to think of a shape shifter, we don’t have a whole race of creatures doing that. There are only a few specific giants in the old stories with that power, and they live in Jǫtunnheimr, the Realm of Giants.”

“But you said jǫtnar, why is their land called Jǫtunnheimr?” asked Pinkie, showing a surprising adaptability to replicate words she just heard.

“That’s actually a fair question,” he replied with a burst of laughter. “It’s like in Equestrian. You say one mouse, but two mice. We say one jǫtunn, but when there are more of them, we say jǫtnar.”

“Okay, thanks for all the information about your language, but I’m still thinking you’re a spy!” Rainbow flew in front of her friends, extending her wings to cover them.

Drakkar let out an upset sigh while staring at Rainbow Dash. “What do I have to do to proove that I’m not one of those changelings so you can leave me be?”

“Well, changelings’ horns always shine with a green glow!” said Pinkie Pie with a bounce. “Cast a spell! Cast a spell!”

Drakkar’s horn and throat shone with a dark brown glow. With a smile, he nodded at Fluttershy with a smile. She covered her ears as he took a deep breath and let out a bellowing bear-like roar to the sky. He looked at Rainbow Dash’s eyes with a smirk.

“Wow, that was awesome!” cried Dash. “Oh, and your horn shone normally, so I guess you’re no changeling.”

“Glad that we finally got to that conclusion. Can we introduce ourselves properly now?”

“Sure. I’m Rainbow Dash, the fastest pony in Equestria!” she boasted flying several feet over the others.

“And I’m Pinkie Pie!” she cried, jumping high and throwing confetti that everypony knew she didn’t have on her when she arrived.

“I’m Drakkar, Hoofcarl at the service of the Jarl Winter Blizzard!”

“Drakkar, huh?” repeated Rainbow Dash. “Sounds good, but you still can’t beat the awesomeness of Rainbow Dash as a name.”

“Probably not. You said that you were the fastest pony in Equestria?”

“Yup!” Rainbow Dash took off, performing a double backflip before stopping mere inches away from Drakkar’s head. She showed a proud and challenging smirk. “Think you can find somepony better than me?”

Drakkar laughed at the arrogant mare’s confidence. “You have the boastful nature of the Scandineighvian folks. But you never met the fastest stallion in all the Frozen North: Svaðilfar. Legend has it that he galloped so fast that, if you looked at him, you got the impression that he had eight legs. Such was his speed. He lived two hundred years ago, but the legend still lives, and our racing stadium is named after him.”

“Really? That sounds amazing! I’ll get something named after me someday, I’m sure of it!”

Drakkar burst into laughter once more. ”You remind me of my people, Rainbow Dash. I like you.”

“You’re not that bad of a stallion either,” admitted Dash with a snort. “Hey, if that’s true, the thing about me reminding you of your people… what would be my name there?”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised at the comment. “That’s quite an odd request.”

“Well, ‘Drakkar’ sounds exotic but powerful. I want to see if by any chance my Scandineighvian name would be even cooler. Though I guess that’s a bit hard.”

Drakkar thought for a moment before throwing a confident smirk at the pegasus. “How does ‘Bifrǫst Rusning’ sound to you?”

Dash remained speechless for a moment, showing the widest grin she’d ever shown. “Ohmygosh, that sounds amazing! Can you please call me that when you speak to me?”

Drakkar shrugged with a snort. “As you wish, Rusning.”

“Oh, now say Fluttershy’s name in Scandineighvian!” cried Pinkie Pie as she pushed her friend towards the rest of the group.

“It’s not necessary, really,” said Fluttershy, embarrassed of becoming the focus of the conversation.

“It’s okay, Fluttershy, I don’t mind,” replied Drakkar with a smile. “Now, let me think for a moment. This doesn’t suit you, I’m afraid, but it would be something like ‘Gáttaflǫktstyggr’.”

The three mares stared at him in complete silence. Fluttershy’s mouth was wide open in shock and Rainbow Dash landed with an equally surprised stare.

“Wow, it looked like you were choking there!” exclaimed Pinkie Pie with a giggle. “Hey, Fluttershy, do you want me to call you that?”

Fluttershy shook her head swiftly at her words. “I’ll stick with Fluttershy, if that’s okay. The other name sounds too scary.”

“Now it’s my turn! Pinkie Pie the Scandineighvian!” She clapped anxiously, taking battle positions and making war faces.

Drakkar sat on the ground, scratching his chin, under the cautious and expecting stare of Pinkie Pie. After a moment, he let out a long sigh and shrugged in defeat. “Pinkie Pie.”

She fell face first to the ground. “That’s not fair!” she cried in disappointment, waving her arms vigorously. “Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy have amazing Norse names! Why don’t I have one?”

“Well, I’ve never heard about this ’pie’ that you mention, so—”

Pinkie Pie gasped loudly, gathering the attention of every single creature in the surroundings. “You don’t know what a pie is?!” Drakkar replied with a shake of his head. “That’s impossible! Cupcakes, muffins, pies, milkshakes!?”

“Never heard of them,” replied Drakkar with a humble shrug. “What are those things?”

-o-

In Sugarcube Corner, Mrs. Cake softly squeezed the piping bag to add the frosting to a muffin-flavored cupcakes order from Derpy while her husband cleaned the oven.

“Well, that’s all for today, cream puff,” said Carrot Cake.

“Indeed, quite a relaxed day,” admitted Cup Cake. “We barely got deliveries. And the place is so quiet without Pinkie Pie.”

Just when Mrs. Cake finished that last sentence, Sugarcube Corner’s doors opened with a deafening crash. Pinkie Pie was carrying over her head an astonished brown unicorn. “We have an emergency!” she cried before sitting Drakkar on a chair and galloping to the kitchen.

Both bakers and Drakkar stared at each other in an uncomfortable silence.

“Uh… are you a friend of Pinkie Pie?” asked Carrot Cake.

“I’m... not sure about what happened,” confessed Drakkar, leaning back on the chair and staring dumbfounded at the two ponies. “Does she kidnap her friends and bring them here often?”

“Well, she brings them here,” admitted Cup Cake. “But she’s never done this before.” She looked back to the kitchen, where Pinkie was noisily getting the oven ready for a tray of cupcakes. “Pinkie, why did you bring your friend here?”

“He doesn’t know anything about pastries!” cried Pinkie Pie, rushing out of the kitchen. She pointed at him menacingly with a furious stare, as if he had committed the biggest atrocity ever conceived.” I’m going to fix that!” She then rushed back inside the kitchen, slamming the doors shut.

“Is that true, uh…” Carrot Cake stopped when he noticed that he didn’t know the newcomer’s name. “I’m sorry, but what’s your name?”

”Drakkar, Hoofcarl at the service of the Jarl Winter Blizzard, from the land of Scandineighvia, in the Frozen North.”

“The Frozen North?” repeated Mr. Cake. “Wow, that’s sure far away! I didn’t even know that ponies lived up there! So, are you staying here for long?”

“I’m mostly here to update the reports we have of Equestria. Every few decades they send some trusted soldiers to explore the different lands.” He looked at both ponies standing in front of him and noticed the aprons they wore. “I see that you’re the owners of this place.”

“That’s right,” Mr. Cake replied with a nod. “I’m Carrot Cake and this is my wife, Cup Cake.”

“And this is our bakery, Sugarcube Corner,” added Mrs. Cake. “Everypony calls us Mr. and Mrs. Cake.”

“A pleasure, and my apologies for such an…“ Drakkar shook his head with a snort, still slightly shocked by the event, “unorthodox appearance, if we can call it that.”

“Oh, it’s okay. We’re glad that you decided to choose our establishment to satisfy your curiosity with Equestrian eating habits,” said Cup Cake with a grin.

“I didn’t exactly choose it,” he corrected. He motioned a hoof towards the kitchen, where Pinkie Pie was maniacally stirring batter while adding sugar to the frosting at the same time. “However, this place really called my attention, and I would’ve come here on my own.”

“Your words mean a lot to us, Drakkar,” admitted Carrot Cake, tipping his cooking hat politely. “I’m sure you’ll find our pastries delightful.”

”Yeah, about that,” said Drakkar as he pulled a few coins from inside his pelt. “Unless you accept these, we have a little problem.”

“What are these?” asked Carrot Cake, taking one of them and staring at it like an appraiser. “I’ve never seen one of these before.”

“It’s a blizz, the currency back in Scandineighvia. I have a small bag full of them, but I guess you don’t accept them here.”

“I’m afraid you’re right, Drakkar. We only accept bits here.”

“In that case, this will have to wait for another day.” Drakkar got up from the chair and turned around to leave, gently bowing at the couple.

“Oh no, you won’t!” cried Pinkie Pie. She rushed out of the kitchen and pushed Drakkar down again.

“Pinkie, what part of ‘I can’t afford it’ don’t you understand?” said Drakkar, quite upset.

“The part where you said that you didn’t know about any kind of pastries! Now, sit down and don’t move a muscle or say a word while I bring you everything you have to taste! I’ll take care of the money!”

Drakkar huffed in anger. “I plain refuse to let a mare take care of my—”

“Not… a… word!” repeated Pinkie Pie furiously, standing on her hind legs and getting eye to eye with him. To everypony’s surprise, Drakkar sat down again, remaining speechless. Pinkie Pie’s anger suddenly vanished, turning again into the joyful pink mare everypony knew, and happily trotted back to the kitchen.

Drakkar let out an exasperated sigh before looking up to meet Cup Cake’s frown. “And what, exactly, is wrong with a mare taking care of your meal?” she asked with an offended tone. Drakkar tried to speak, but she didn’t let him. “I don’t know how things are in Scandineighvia, but this is Equestria, and mares and stallions are equal! And there’s nothing wrong with a mare paying for a stallion’s food. Now, stay here while Pinkie and I bring you the food.”

Cup Cake turned to the kitchen and walked inside to help Pinkie with the pastries. Her husband sat next to Drakkar, resting a hoof on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about my wife; she’ll cool down after a while.”

Drakkar let out a long sigh of defeat, staring at the table. “I’m beginning to understand why none of the other hoofcarls talked to ponies here.”

“Don’t say that,” scolded Carrot Cake softly, patting his back. “Think of how revolutionary all the knowledge you’ll bring will be.”

Drakkar looked at him, seeing the camaraderie in the baker’s eyes. With a shake of his head, he resumed staring at the table. “I just don’t want to have a debt here. And I hate having others taking care of my expenses!” he added, hitting his chest with a hoof. “A drengskapr can’t allow himself to suffer such an insult.”

Mr. Cake raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Oh, sorry about that. Drengskapr means…” Drakkar tapped his hoof against the table for a while. “Something like ‘honor’. It’s not a literal translation, but it will help. The pony who has drengskapr is a drengr. And as a hoofcarl serving directly under the Jarl, I must be a drengr.”

“And what qualities should this drengr show?” Carrot Cake listened to him, completely overwhelmed by the fact that he was having a conversation with a stallion from faraway lands.

“Well, we must show nobility, magnanimity, fair play, respect and—” Drakkar stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes wide open. He lowered his head as the words flowed slowly out of his mouth. “Self-control.”

“You didn’t show a lot of that a moment ago, right?” Carrot smiled tenderly, patting Drakkar’s back. “Don’t worry, I‘m not here to judge. Just understand that you’re in a different place now, and the laws you have there don’t apply here, and vice versa. And I’m sure that nopony will go to Scandineighvia to tell them that you broke their laws here.”

Drakkar looked at the baker, letting out a soft snort. “After meeting Pinkie, I expect anything to happen.”

Carrot laughed, smacking Drakkar on the back. “Well, welcome to Ponyville, then! Don’t worry, there’s nopony in this town more… random than Pinkie Pie. If you can handle her, you’ll do quite well here.”

Drakkar showed a wide smile. “Alright then, I think I can start writing about Equestrian gastronomy and overall culture as well,” he said, letting his joy fade slowly, “but I still have the problem concerning the surely huge debt I’ll have here.”

“If you’re going to be here for a long time, I’m sure that you’ll find a way to pay it,” replied Carrot with a reassuring nod. “Besides, I don’t think Pinkie will bring too much—”

“Here we are!” cried Pinkie Pie while opening the kitchen’s door with a kick. She showed up with trays full of every single kind of pastry they had in each front hoof, plus another one balancing on her head and on her tail. Cup Cake had a chocolate cake on her back. “And there’s more yet to come!”

Drakkar and Carrot Cake stared at the scene dumbfounded, then looked at each other. “Okay, you might need to ask for a loan or something,” said the baker.

-o-

To the Cakes and Pinkie’s astonishment, Drakkar was having no problem eating all the pastries, no matter how many they brought him. He wrote in several scrolls as he ate and, by late afternoon, he had already finished five trays of pastries, a whole cake and half of another one, and seven milkshakes.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Drakkar?” asked Cup Cake with honest concern. “Not even Pinkie could eat all that without having a severe tummy ache.”

“Wow, he’s amazing!” cried Pinkie, checking the floor every now and then to see if he was throwing food away.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Cake,” assured Drakkar with a nod. “In Scandineighvia we have two meals a day: dagverðr at mid-morning and náttverðr in the evening. And they’re both quite abundant, mostly because we do a lot of work and we need a huge amount of energy. So yeah, we’re used to eating a lot, especially considering that I didn’t have dagverðr this midday.” He levitated a cupcake and stared at it for a while. “I’m curious, though. How long can these… what was their name again?”

“Cupcakes!” yelled Pinkie Pie excitedly. She jumped next to him, pointing at every single kind of pastry and naming them. “These puffy ones here are muffins, this huge thing is a cake, this one here is a pie, and the drinks are called milkshakes!”

“I think I got all of them down. Say, Mrs. Cake, how long can these pastries stay in good condition?”

“You want us to pack them so you can take them home?” asked Mrs. Cake with a smile. After she had spoken with him privately for awhile, they had made up. Drakkar had apologized for not honoring their traditions in their land, and she accepted his apology on the condition that he would from here on out.

“Oh, no, just… Well, I think these are outstanding, and if there was a chance we could import these pastries to Scandineighvia, I’d like to know how long they could last.”

“Oh, it mostly depends on how you store them. They can stay in optimal condition for a few days, then they’ll start becoming a little stale, but they’re still fine to eat until a week after they’re baked.” She looked at him with hopeful eyes and a wide grin. “Do you think you could get us orders?”

“To be fair, most of these flavors are unknown to me. I’m sure that, as a dessert for certain festivities, they’d be most appreciated. I’ll have to report this to the Jarl so see if he’s interested, though.”

“That would be wonderful, Drakkar!” said Cup Cake with a broad smile. “By the way, we’ll be closing in an hour, so I’ll get some packages ready so you can take them home.”

“Sure, thanks, Mrs. Cake. And again, sorry for my behavior earlier.”

“Oh, I already accepted your apologies before, you don’t need to insist,” she replied with a snort. “I just thought that you treated mares in a… inappropriate way in your homeland, that’s all.”

“On the contrary. It is true that, in Scandineighvia, stallions are dominant, but mares are quite respected and our law, grágás, protects them from a lot of things, from violence to unwanted attention from stallions.” Drakkar suddenly burst into laughter, getting everypony’s attention. “That actually happened once that I can remember to one of my old friends back home. He was flirting with the baker’s daughter, but she didn’t want to be close to him. The lad ended up having to pay one hundred blizzes as a fine.”

“I know a few stallions here whose money wouldn’t last for long there,” said Mrs. Cake with a chuckle. “But are there important mares in Scandineighvia? I still think that we are quite… weak there.”

“Not at all, Cup Cake,” assured Drakkar with a smile. “In fact, there are a lot of strong mares fighting alongside our soldiers. And in our legends, valkyrjur are mighty shieldmares that take fallen warriors to Valhöll, where they get ready to fight the Ragnarök. A lot of mares that show skills in battle take the name of a valkyrja as a second name.” There was a glow in Drakkar’s eyes whenever he talked about his homeland, and the other three ponies sat around him, paying close attention to his stories. “I can think of Áræði, one of the Jarl’s shieldmares. She took arms and the name of one of the valkyrjur, and she’s now known as Áræði Skögulsdóttir, which literally means ‘Áræði, daughter of Skögul.’”

The storytelling came to an end when the sound of the doorbell caught their attention.

“Are you still open?” asked a voice that made Drakkar’s ears perk up.

“Mjǫllna?”

“Drakkar!” She turned to face him with a broad smile. “I wondered where you were. You told me you’re going to visit me at the smithy. I thought you got lost.”

“Oopsie, my bad!” said Pinkie Pie with a snicker at the Cakes’ accusing stare.

“I’d like a chocolate milkshake, please,” ordered Mjǫllna with a smile. She turned to Drakkar, showing a tender smile. “Would you like to share a milkshake with me, Drakkar?”

“Oh, I don’t think your friend has room in his stomach for anything else,” said Mrs. Cake while pointing at all the empty trays at the table.

Mjǫllna turned to see the five empty trays and seven glasses of milkshake next to a half-eaten cake. “Wow, you sure were hungry!” she said with a chuckle.

“It has more to do with how I ended up here, to be honest,” replied Drakkar, looking at Pinkie Pie through the corner of the eye. He pointed at one of the free chairs next to him. “Would you like to join us?”

“Of course!”

“Here you go, Mjǫllna,” said Mrs. Cake as she served the milkshake. With a playful smirk, she scolded Drakkar softly. “Drakkar, what did you just tell us about unwanted attention towards mares again?”

“Unwanted?” repeated Mjǫllna, winking at the baker.

“Oh, I see.” Cup Cake chuckled and walked away discreetly. “I’ll leave you here then. Enjoy the drink!”

Drakkar stared at the scene with a raised eyebrow. “What just happened?”

“Nothing important. Mares’ stuff,” replied Mjǫllna with a giggle. She looked down to see all the scrolls he had all over the table. “What are these?”

“My reports concerning Equestrian gastronomy. We only focused in topography until now, but I think that gathering more information about the life here will be widely appreciated.”

“So that’s why you came here?”

Drakkar tilted his head. “Though it was more something like ‘they kidnapped and dragged me here’ than coming on my own.”

“May I take a look at this one?” she said, pointing at a scroll in front of her.

“Sure, go ahead. I’m almost done with these ones anyways.”

“This one got my attention because I’ve noticed a lot of Equestrian words.”

“If I use Equestrian words it’s because we don’t have Norse words for it.”

Mjǫllna nodded as she read through the scroll, noticing that there wasn’t a single pastry with a Scandineighvian name. She raised an eyebrow when she found ‘Pinkie Pie’ written down. “Okay, I know that ‘merr’ means ‘mare’, but what does ‘varist’ mean?”

“Beware,” answered Drakkar, holding back a snort.

Mjǫllna chuckled. “Oh, come on. Pinkie Pie isn’t that scary.”

“She dragged me here when she found out that we didn’t know anything about pastries in our homeland, then began bringing trays and trays of food for me to eat.”

“I’m surprised that you don’t have pastries there.”

“Well, we don’t have sugar in my homeland. The only sweetener we use is honey. But our bread is one of the best you can eat,” he added with a proud smile. “I miss it a bit. Not as much as a nice, cold horn of mead, but still.”

“Why don’t you ask the Cakes to bake some? Do you know the recipe?”

Drakkar crossed his forehooves for a while, staring at the ceiling. “I remember that we used flour, buttermilk, eggs, salt, honey and nuts. When I was a colt, my sister told me how they did it.”

“Sounds delicious! I’m sure my grandma would love to try it!” Mjǫllna took a short sip of the milkshake before resuming. “What do you think of Ponyville for now?”

Drakkar shrugged with a smile. “Considering I’ve been yelled at twice and taken hostage here by a pink baker, I can’t say that this is the best day ever,” he said with a laugh. “But I guess tomorrow will be better. Though I still have to think how I’m going to take care of the bill for all these cakes.”

“Well, I could use an assistant at the smithy, though I barely have customers,” offered Mjǫllna with a playful smile.

“I appreciate it. If I don’t get kidnapped again, I’ll try to find my way there,” he replied with a snort.

She giggled at his words. “I sure hope so.”

“What kind of forge do you have, by the way?”

“Oh, I use a stone forge that works with coal and coke.”

Drakkar nodded. “I’ve seen some of those, but our local smith had one carved on the ground. He also used coal and coke. Did you make the tools yourself?”

“Yes, I did. Well, at first I used the ones I inherited from my great-grandfather, but I made my own set of tools when I had the chance. I felt more comfortable with them.”

“Indeed, a blacksmith must always have a set of his or her own.”

Mjǫllna and Drakkar kept on talking and comparing the life he had in Scandineighvia with how it was in Ponyville. They also discussed about how much of Mjǫllna’s grandmother’s stories about the Frozen North were true or simple misconceptions. Surprisingly, there were no inaccuracies between both sources, only incomplete sections. They talked about the games they played there, the competitions they held and the huge feasts they had at their festivities. They also told some stories about their youth.

“I remember one day at school when I was a filly,” said Mjǫllna with a snort. “A couple stallions picked on me because of my accent. They were bigger than me, but that didn’t stop me from putting up a fight with both of them. Sure, our teacher expelled me for three days and visited my mom. She was so angry at me that she grounded me for three days, but they never mocked me again. However, my granny came to my bedroom and told me ‘You’ve acted like a strong Norse mare would’. She gave me a hug and warned me to keep my Norse pride down while in Equestria, but she was still proud of me.”

“Well, I wasn’t a stallion who used to pick fights, but I joined the glíma when I had the chance.”

“Oh, wrestling!” Mjǫllna clapped in enthusiasm with a wide grin. “My granny told me a lot about it, especially about the ceremonial glíma. You know, the one during mating season, with mares cheerleading the contestants.” She looked at him with roguish eyes.

Drakkar blushed lightly, looking away. “Well, yeah, a few years ago…”

She chuckled at his reaction. “So, are there any young Drakkars around Scandineighvia?”

Drakkar shook his head. “Not even one. I joined the ceremonial glíma twice, and I always had the misfortune to fight against Megin-gjarð, the strongest stallion in all Scandineighvia. In the stories they say that he’s the size of an ox, and that he has the strength of a jǫtunn. That’s why sometimes in the satires we call him jǫtunhestrr.”

“The giant stallion?” repeated Mjǫllna with a chuckle. “I guess he didn’t take that lightly.”

“Oh, he didn’t, but his hot-headedness only made it his role as a jǫtunn easier. He’s quite respected in our community and, while he doesn’t like the satires, he considers that they’re still praising his skills. And his size might be quite exaggerated, as he’s only a bit larger than me, but he’s surely as strong as the stories state.”

“So, no mares for you.”

Drakkar shook his head. “Only the nurses who took care of me after Megin broke five of my ribs in the final match of the last glíma I joined.”

“Ouch! I’m so sorry to hear it!”

“Nah, I’m fine now. I’m curious, how did you get your cutie mark?”

“Oh, it’s quite a short story, I’m afraid, nothing as epic as how I got the respect of my peers at school,” she replied with a laugh. “My granny had been a blacksmith for as long as she could remember, helping Gleipna at the smithy. My mother didn’t want to keep the family tradition, but I wanted to, and I made a horseshoe for my granny as a birthday gift. She loved it, and I got my cutie mark. She said that it meant more to her than the gift itself, which she still keeps at her door. Granny said that my cutie mark proved that I had embraced our Norse heritage and traditions.” She leaned her head sideways, noticing the roaring head Drakkar had on the flank. “What about you? What’s your cutie mark’s story?”

Drakkar lowered his head, caressing the hanging bear paw tied around his neck. “Let’s just say that I got it when I became a hoofcarl.”

“Oh, I’m sure that there’s an interesting story behind it!” insisted Mjǫllna as she took the last sip from the milkshake.

She knew that Drakkar always loved talking about everything concerning his homeland. However, his eyes didn’t shine as usual when she mentioned his cutie mark’s story. On the contrary, he kept his head lowered, staring at her with sorrowful eyes. “I’d rather not talk about it, Mjǫllna.”

She lowered her ears and rested her hoof on his. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to—”

“I know you didn’t,” replied Drakkar. He held Mjǫllna’s hoof with both of his instinctively. He didn’t even look at what he wasn’t doing, maybe didn’t even knew what he was doing. She didn’t complain, letting him caress her front hoof gently.

“Alright, lovebirds, we’re closing,” said Cup Cake with a broad smile at the tender scene.

“Lovebirds?” Drakkar looked up and noticed that he was caressing Mjǫllna’s hoof.

“My granny never told me that Norse stallions were so adorable,” said Mjǫllna with a giggle.

Drakkar pulled back with a blush. “I-I’m sorry, I was absent-minded! I didn’t notice what I was doing!”

“Aww, but I liked it! Can you go on?” teased Mjǫllna as she offered her hoof again.

“I-I… ”

She chuckled loudly. “You can fight to get a mare to bear your foals but you shake like jelly when one offers you her hoof to caress it?”

“Would you like me to pack the pastries for you to take home?” offered Cup Cake in an attempt to save Drakkar from further embarrassment.

“Y-yes, please, I’d appreciate it.”

“Drakkar, would you mind taking me home?” asked Mjǫllna with pleading eyes.

“I… don’t see why not.”

-o-

Mjǫllna didn’t live so far away from Sugarcube Corner, only a couple blocks behind the bakery. The forge in the yard made her house quite noticeable and hard to miss. Neither of them spoke during the short walk, though Mjǫllna still found it funny. Drakkar was an imposing stallion, but he was also quite shy sometimes. Surprisingly, he’d slip in a compliment in Norse during his euphoric tales about his homeland.

“Well, Drakkar,” she said, breaking the silence as they reached the door. “Here we are.”

“It’s a nice house,” admitted Drakkar with a nod. “These are quite different from the ones we have in Scandineighvia.”

“We’ll talk about those another day, my mom and granny must be worried because I’m getting home later than usual.”

“Wait, before you go…” Drakkar levitated one of the boxes full of pastries. “I… think that you and your family would enjoy them, because I already have everything I need for the reports and… you know, it’d be a pity if they were wasted.”

“Thanks! I’m sure my family will appreciate them! So, you think we’ll be able to meet tomorrow?”

Drakkar shrugged with a smile. “If I don’t get kidnapped again, I think I’ll be able to see you at the smithy.”

“It’d be a good thing to have a normal date for a change,” she replied with a giggle. She turned around, wiggling her tail playfully. “See you tomorrow, then, fríðr.”

Drakkar stood motionless for a while, even after she got inside. “Wait, did I just have a date with Mjǫllna? Really?” A moment later, he snorted softly and took a deep breath. “And she called me handsome,” repeated Drakkar with a grin, walking back to Fluttershy’s house. “Well, I guess this wasn’t such a bad day after all.”

Ogildir jarlarnir

Ógildir jarlarnir (The unworthy nobles)

Fluttershy was having an awful night. Nightmares spawned at every moment, all of them involving Drakkar. In her dreams, he chased her animals downhill, roaring menacingly, drooling with hunger. In the last dream, he grabbed Angel, stomping on his ears so he couldn’t move. She shuddered in her bed as she saw her pet’s terrified face as Drakkar ran his tongue around his muzzle.

“No!” yelled Fluttershy in her sleep before Drakkar bit Angel’s neck.

She jerked awake, completely covered in sweat and breathing heavily. After throwing the bed sheets away, she leaned back in the bed and massaged her forehead.

“It’s okay, it’s just a dream. Dreams aren’t real… dreams aren’t real,” she repeated to herself over and over as her breath went back to a normal rhythm.

That didn’t last for long, however. She jumped out of the bed and rushed to the window to check if everything was alright.

The sight under her brought great calm to her heart. Harry the bear was sleeping next to a tree, with Drakkar resting on the animal’s side. He insisted on staying on the yard, as he had gotten used to the sound of the outdoors, and there was nothing inside to accommodate a pony of his size without taking Fluttershy’s bed. The young wild boar lay next to the stallion, using his hoof as a pillow and sticking close to him.

Fluttershy sighed in relief, but the weight in her chest still lingered. Deep inside her, she wasn’t totally okay with Drakkar being close to her animals, and still pictured him as a dangerous pony. However, the stallion had been a good guest and actually cared for her little creatures. Even though he gave his word about not harming a single animal and had showed himself to be a likeable pony, subconsciously, she didn’t trust him totally. With those thoughts in her mind, she stayed in her bed until the first sunrays spilled across her pillow.

Once the time had come to get the animals’ breakfast, she hopped off the bed and trotted down to the kitchen. Before reaching downstairs, though, a sweet smell caught her attention. Fluttershy flew down to the lower floor and noticed a box with the symbol of Sugarcube Corner and a note stuck on it.

“Fluttershy,” she read slowly out loud, “I’ve brought to you these pastries from Sugarcube Corner. I would’ve given them to you myself, but I got lost on my way here and you were already asleep when I got back.”

She smiled profusely at the letter, but also felt an even heavier pressure in her chest. The guilt for thinking of Drakkar as a threat to her animals was too much for her, even though he proved otherwise once and again. With a sigh, Fluttershy left the letter next to the box of pastries and grabbed a sack of feed for the animals. As soon as she opened the door and began walking heavily towards the trough, the sack levitated over her and towards the large recipient. Fluttershy recognized the magical dark brown aura surrounding the sack.

“Góðr morginn, Fluttershy,” said Drakkar with a small smile. He was lying next to the still sleeping bear, with the young wild boar’s head resting on his hooves and snorting noisily.

She raised an eyebrow at first, but she replied nonetheless. “Um… good morning to you too?”

Drakkar replied with a nod and a smile as he poured the content of the sack inside the feeding trough. “I’m glad to see that you’re getting used to Scandineighvian language.”

“Well, that one sounded really similar to our ‘good morning’ and considering the time and all…” Fluttershy shrugged, looking away. “It was a wild guess.”

“It’s still impressive,” insisted Drakkar.

“Um, thanks. By the way, have you been up for long?”

“A bit, yes. We usually get up very early in my homeland, for there are always heavy chores to be done.” Drakkar tilted his head to both the boar and the bear. “However, I didn’t want to wake up these two, so I haven’t moved from here.”

“Drakkar, I… need to tell you something.” Fluttershy looked away, slightly shaking.

He looked at her with concern. “Sure, Fluttershy. Is everything okay?”

“No. I mean, yes. I mean…” Fluttershy let out a defeated sigh, still unable to look at Drakkar. “I’ve had a horrible dream. And… it was about you.” Drakkar raised an eyebrow, to which Fluttershy replied by cowering. “You were… you were chasing my animals, trying to eat them. I woke before you bit Angel. It was horrible!”

Drakkar lowered his head, gently pushing the young wild boar with his muzzle. The animal rolled away until he rested face up, then stretched his four legs and yawned widely. He turned to Drakkar again, oinking while his eyes still half open.

“Góðr morginn, my little friend,” said Drakkar. “The food is ready. I have to talk to Fluttershy now. Would you mind leaving us for a while?” The wild boar squeaked before trotting slowly towards the trough. Drakkar looked at Fluttershy, still shivering in front of him. “Fluttershy, you—”

“I’m sorry!” cried Fluttershy. “I don’t think you’re a monster, I don’t know why I dreamed that.”

“Fluttershy, it doesn’t matter.” Drakkar stood up and walked slowly, getting next to her. The stallion moved her long mane away from her face with delicacy. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“I know… but why does it happen? I don’t want to offend you in any way, but I knew that I had to tell you. It’s just that—”

“Deep inside you, something tells you not to trust me,” said Drakkar, finishing Fluttershy’s line. She nodded slowly, still refusing to look at him. “It’s understandable, young mare, for reasons that I won’t repeat.” She shook her head. “Come, Fluttershy, we must have a short conversation about this.”

Fluttershy flapped her wings to get up, trotting to get to his side. Once Drakkar noticed she was next to him, he pointed at the horizon, to the North.

“In Scandineighvia, we are a tolerant lot. Truth be told, we don’t get many visits,” he said, letting out a snort, “but the point is, we usually accept the customs of others, no matter how odd, as long as they don’t violate the Grágás, our ancient laws. However, I understand that it’s far from an easy task. And you’ve handled it better than anypony I’ve met outside Scandineighvia up to now.”

“I believe that everypony deserves to prove themselves,” said Fluttershy with a nod. “Snap judgments don’t help anypony.”

“Certainly. One of the first cities I went to was Manehattan. I must say that the ponies there… enjoyed mocking my attire, calling me ‘crude’, ‘brutish’, or even… ‘savage’.” Drakkar growled the last word between his teeth with a deep frown. “Those wretched aristocrats. Up in the North, those who had a high position earned it! Hoofcarlar are distinguished soldiers at the service of the Jarl. And the Jarl fights alongside his warriors when time comes! A good Jarl must ensure his followers’ safety and well-being!” Drakkar quoted his words with pride and anger, hitting his chest. “Those ponies in Manehattan, on the other hoof… I met some of those aristocrats, showing off their properties, and their þrælar were—”

“Huh?” Fluttershy cowered immediately. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand that word.”

“No need to apologize, Fluttershy,” he assured with a slightly calmer voice. “In our land, a þræll is… a bondspony. A servant, if you prefer it. They work in the farms of the karlar, which…” Drakkar looked at Fluttershy again, who stared at him dumbfounded. “A karl is a middle-class pony in Scandineighvia. All my family members are karlar, actually.”

“Does that mean that you have servants?”

Drakkar shook her head. “Though we own a farm, it’s too small to require þrælar. The point is that when I met some of these aristocrats, they loved showing off their riches while their servants could barely afford their very own sustenance. When I talked with one of the… maidens, she called herself,” said Drakkar, to which Fluttershy replied with a nod. “Apparently she was working there, willingly! She didn’t owe those ponies anything!”

“Things are different here, Drakkar. In Equestria, we have a lot of different jobs, and ponies that take care of your house are one of them.” Fluttershy stepped away timidly from him. “So I guess they could also be… karlar?”

“It’s still surprising to me. When you’ve committed a fault and you can’t pay the fine, you serve as a bondspony until you pay your debt. I should know; I was a þræll for a short while.”

“Really?” she asked with a surprised expression. “What happened?”

“When I was a colt, a friend and I were playing glíma, and one of the times he threw me, I landed against the neighbor’s fence. We broke a few planks and scared their cows. Our parents agreed that we should work as þrælar until we paid for the damage we’ve caused. So not only did I have to work at my farm, but also at the neighbors’ for a few weeks.” With a smile, Drakkar let out a long, nostalgic sigh. “’Colts will be colts’, my mother used to say. The neighbors treated us… well, harshly, but once we paid our debt, everything was solved. And, to avoid further issues, my father allowed us to play in the yard behind our house.”

“And þrælar… had to be servants forever? I mean, are there certain ponies that are… born that way and stuck as servants for the rest of their lives?”

“Scandineighvia’s statutory hierarchy isn’t as rigid as you may think. Yes, there are families of þrælar, but they could become free ponies if they earn their freedom, and their offspring will be considered karlar by all effects.”

“That’s good to hear. I think everypony should be able to choose what they want to do.” Fluttershy smiled broadly as she noticed the little wild boar approaching them.

“It was hard to me to get used to it, and I usually tried to keep away from those aristocrats. Things are much different in my homeland, but I’m not there anymore. To make matters worse, our records show nothing about your social structures or anything, for we focused solely on topography.” Drakkar lowered his head with a defeated sigh. “I didn’t know what I was getting into.”

Noticing the stallion’s saddened tone, the young wild boar scratched his leg with a hoof, trying to call his attention. When Drakkar turned to look at the animal, he stood on his hind legs, hopping and oinking as if trying to hug him. The tenderness of the scene made Drakkar snort and lower his head to caress the little wild boar with his muzzle.

“It’s okay, little friend, it’s nothing I can’t handle,” said Drakkar as the wild boar hugged his face and squealed gleefully.

While witnessing the scene, Fluttershy couldn’t contain a tender smile. To her, it was wonderful to see such a bond between a pony and an animal. Sometimes the bond was unexpected, like Rainbow Dash and Tank the tortoise. This time, however, was slightly different; it felt as if they had known each other for a long time. Each one understood the other’s feelings and needs, and acted accordingly. With a determined step forward, she rested a hoof on Drakkar’s shoulder.

“What would you think of having him as a pet?” asked Fluttershy with hopeful eyes that expected a yes. “You two seem to get along pretty well.”

“A pet?” Drakkar turned to Fluttershy, meeting her pleading eyes. “I don’t know, Fluttershy. I don’t think I’m ready to—” The young boar’s squeal caught both ponies’ attention. The animal hopped in front of him with loud oinks of joy. “You like the idea, little one?” Fervent oinks and jumps were his answer, making Drakkar laugh and lower his head to let the boar hug him. “Very well, my friend. But you’ll need a name.”

“Are you going to give him a Scandineighvian name?”

“Indeed.” Drakkar raised his head and offered his hoof to the wild boar. Noticing how the sunlight endowed the young animal with a slight glow resembling gold, he came up with a name easily. “You shall be named Gullinbursti.” The wild boar tilted his head with a short grunt. Drakkar covered his mouth with a hoof to contain the laughter. “Too long for you, I guess. How about shortening it to Gullin?”

With a loud squeal and a tight hug to his leg, the wild boar trotted around the ponies, oinking and grunting gleefully.

“He likes the name,” stated Fluttershy with a tender smile. “Are you going to visit Mjǫllna at the smithy today?”

“I’d like to, but… well, I don’t want to be there too early. I don’t want to look too anxious about it.”

Fluttershy nodded lightly without losing her smile. “I understand. Would you like to come with me to Carousel Boutique? We can spend some time there and you can go to Mjǫllna’s later.”

Raising an eyebrow, Drakkar stared at her in confusion. “What is that place?”

“Oh, my friend Rarity works there. She makes the most beautiful dresses in all of Ponyville. I need to take her my gala dress from last year’s… uh… unexpected accident I don’t want to talk about.”

Drakkar blinked as he stood motionless for a second. “Alright, let’s go, then.”

“Gullin should stay here, though. Rarity might not like having a wild boar at her shop,” warned Fluttershy.

With a sigh, he looked at his new pet with a sad grimace. “Gullin, I’ll be back later. We’ll play when I return.” The animal nodded with a joyful oink, then rushed to the feeding trough. Snorting softly, Drakkar turned back to Fluttershy and they departed together.

-o-

Rarity’s bin was full of discarded sketches of new designs. One moment she was delightfully adding a few bows to a skirt, and the next one, she was tearing them off, huffing in exasperation.

“How can something look so divine on paper and become so horrendous when making it a real dress?” she cried as desperation scratched her throat. “If this keeps up, I won’t be able to get my designs ready for the next runway show!”

Every single mannequin was dressed in a half-made costume, with silken threads showing from opened cupboards. Strips of cloth and linen lay everywhere on the floor. To make matters worse, Opal had hoarded all the balls of yarn around her bed and wasn’t letting Rarity get any of them back. In an attempt to calm down her nerves, as the day seemed not to improve on its own, she trotted to the kitchen and prepared an infusion with valerian and honey.

She sat at the table and blew softly at the cup to cool it enough to avoid burning her tongue. She was just about to take the first sip of her relaxing beverage when her shop’s bell rang. With an exasperated sigh, she set the cup down and massaged her forehead.

“This must be one of those days when nothing goes well,” Rarity complained in a low voice as she got up from the chair. She showed a wide smile, hiding her mental exhaustion and frustrations. “Welcome to Carousel Boutique! I apologize for the mess, but the dresses for the next runway show are—” Rarity became frozen on the spot as the imposing sight of Drakkar, combined with his serious expression, made her take a step back. To her relief, Fluttershy, who had been concealed behind the stallion’s body and was carrying a pair of saddlebags, trotted her way in front of her friend.

“Hello, Rarity,” said Fluttershy with a smile. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I was wondering if you could fix my gala dress. I know that you have the runway show, so I thought that I could leave it with you now.” She cowed lightly, looking away from Rarity. ”I mean, considering that the Grand Galloping Gala is next month, you’ll have enough time to fix it.”

“Oh, certainly, Fluttershy,” replied Rarity with a relieved smile. “I’ll get it ready by then. I’ll take a while to get to it, though. As you can see,” said Rarity as she pointed at the mess that her shop had become, “I’m dreadfully busy with these dresses, and even though the deadline is next week, I don’t have even one finished!”

“Thanks, Rarity, and no worries about the time.”

“And who’s your… imposing friend?”

“I’m Drakkar, from the Frozen North,” he said as he hit his chest with a hoof.

“The Frozen North? And only with… that?” Rarity sounded both disgusted and astounded as she pointed out the pelt and lack of other clothing. “Forgive me for my ignorance, gentlecolt, but I expected that you’d be covered in layers and layers of clothing instead of travelling barely naked through the ice.”

“That has an easy explanation, young lady.” Drakkar rested a hoof on his chest. To Rarity’s surprise, almost half of it got covered by the fur. “We have adapted to the harsh climate of Scandineighvia. Our furs are thicker to compensate the low temperatures we suffer there. However, my lack of clothing is due to my rank. This pelt you see here is the uniform that every hoofcarl wears.”

“What kind of clothing do you have there? I’m sure that it must look differently from ours.”

“To be honest, yours don’t resemble our own at all.” With a curious eye, Drakkar caressed one of the threads hanging from one of the cupboards. “This looks vaguely familiar. What is it?”

“Hmm?” Rarity trotted next to Drakkar to see what he was pointing at. “Oh, this is silk, Darling.”

“Silk!?” Drakkar looked around the store in awe. “Everything here is made of silk?”

“Why, of course!” she replied with a pride gesture. “My customers deserve no less.”

“Is everything okay, Drakkar?” asked Fluttershy as she trotted to his side.

“It’s just that… well, we know silk, but it’s extremely expensive. Only the jarlar and other wealthy landowners can afford it. We usually use linen and wool.”

“Well, considering how cold it must be up there, I don’t blame you. However, how’s the clothing there?” Rarity asked, expecting some form of inspiration from Drakkar’s designs.

“I remember one of my first pieces of clothing. My mother made it for me for my tenth birthday.” With a wide smile, he sat on the floor, gesturing with his hooves. “It was a beautiful, dark brown kyrtill that barely covered the flanks. We used a leather belt to tighten it to the waist. She also made me a dark green feldr that hung right under my knees.” Totally lost in the memories, Drakkar let out a chuckle. “She used to say that it made my eyes stand out.” With a relaxed sigh, he looked at both mares, who stood dumbfounded in front of him.

“I-I’m sorry, Darling,” said Rarity trying to maintain the composure. “But I’m afraid I didn’t understand a thing of what you said. Yes, the colors and the sizes, but… I have no idea of what kind of clothes you’re talking about.”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” he replied, lowering his head with a shy smile. “Okay, a kyrtill is an overtunic. The pieces are cut out of the fabric and then sewn back together.”

“Oh, my, that’s a lot of work!” admitted Rarity in shock.

“Indeed, but it has an upside. Because of the way it’s done, the garment doesn’t restrict movement. And, even though it’s tight-fitting on the upper part, the sleeves are fitted to provide freedom of motion.”

“Well that’s pretty clever, actually. What about the… felder?”

“Feldr, the cloak. It’s just a large rectangular piece of wool worn in a way so that either the right or left front leg is unencumbered by it. I remember that my neighbor had a larger farm, so they could afford longer clothes. His kyrtilinn covered his haunch completely, and his feldrinn almost caressed the snowy ground,” he said, moving his hoof around a few inches over the floor.

“So the length of the clothes determined the wealth of the wearer.”

“Mostly yes.” Drakkar looked for a clock in the room to find out the time. “Darn, it’s past eleven already! Fluttershy, I have to go to the smithy. Is it okay if I leave you here with your friend?”

“Oh, don’t worry.” With a sweet smile, Fluttershy turned to Rarity. “Do you know by any chance where the smithy is?”

“You mean Mjǫllna’s? Didn’t she have the workshop in her house, in the storage room outside the building? ”

“Excellent! It won’t be a long walk. It isn’t far from Sugarcube Corner, and I remember we walked past to it on our way here.”

“Just a minute, Drakkar,” called Rarity, before he could reach the door. “I think I can help you.”

With a raised eyebrow, he moved the hoof away from the door. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m afraid that you’re an open book,” replied Rarity with a soft snort. “Why else would you have such a hurry to go to a smithy?”

“I-I’m going to assist Mjǫllna at the workshop.” Drakkar stared at the time, tapping the ground impatiently. “Now, if you excuse me, I have to—”

“It will be a moment, dear. I’m sure I can make you look gorgeous for your ‘assistance’.”

“I’m going to be working with coal and heated metal, Rarity.”

“It’s okay, just let me remove this awful thing from you and fix a bit your mane.” Rarity magically untied the pelt’s paws around Drakkar’s neck and levitated it away. “Now, as soon as I find my brush, we’ll get on—”

“Gef hann aptr!” roared Drakkar in a fit of fury.

Fluttershy flew behind one of the mannequins and cowered. Having lost her focus at the sudden shout, Rarity’s magic faded away and the pelt fell on her. The stallion who only a few moments ago talked nostalgically about his colthood, growled menacingly at her.

“Gef hann aptr!” repeated Drakkar, pounding both hooves on the floor.

“Rarity, I think he wants you to give the pelt back!” cried Fluttershy, watching the scene through the corner of the eye.

“B-b-but I want to help him!” stuttered Rarity. “W-why is he so angry all of a sudden?”

“Rarity, look!”

It took a moment for Rarity to look at Fluttershy pointing at Drakkar’s legs. To both mares’ astound, even though he was gritting his teeth and stood determined, his legs were shaking frantically. Aside from having turned around to face her, he had barely moved from the spot. Sweat began to fall from his forehead and he breathed faster every second that passed.

“G-give it back,” begged Drakkar with pleading eyes.

He tried to take a step forward, but his shaky legs could barely stand his weight. He lowered his body to the ground, trembling even more than before, and hid his head behind his mane. Rarity’s heart sank at the sight of Drakkar nestled on the floor and threw the pelt at him without a second thought. Once the piece of clothing covered Drakkar, he hugged it tightly. His trembling slowly faded away and his breathing became slower, though heavier.

“Þat er góðr… þat er góðr,” repeated Drakkar as he put the pelt slowly on, clenching the bear paws.

“Drakkar…” Fluttershy flew from behind the mannequin and walked slowly towards him, even though Rarity shook her head when she saw her friend. She lay down in front of him, trying to make eye contact with him. “It’s okay, Drakkar. Everything’s fine now,” she said in a comforting voice.

“No… it’s not okay.” Once he had recovered from the shock, he got up with a huff. Growling in anger, he took a step towards Rarity, but Fluttershy flew to keep eye contact with him.

“No, please!” Fluttershy begged, pushing him back with her hooves. “I know you don’t want to do us any harm, and I’m sure Rarity’s really sorry!” Fluttershy looked back at her, who nodded frantically while cowing. “Besides, what would Gullin or Mjǫllna think if they saw you like this? Please, calm down!”

Fluttershy’s pleading eyes made Drakkar look away with a grunt. His heaving chest returned to a normal breathing. Drakkar wiped away the sweat from his cheeks and forehead. Though he had reverted to his former calmed state, Rarity continued to shrink at the sight of the stallion’s frown.

“You never take off the pelt from a hoofcarl!” stated Drakkar bluntly. With those words, he magically opened the door and slammed it shut after leaving the store.

“W-w-what was that about?” stuttered Rarity, still frozen in place.

“I don’t know; he’s never reacted so violently until now.”

Fluttershy trotted towards Rarity, getting tightly hugged when she got next to her friend. Rarity could barely contain her sobs. “Oh, thank you for standing up for me, Fluttershy! You’re the bravest pony I’ve ever met!”

“It’s nothing, Rarity. Maybe spending some time with Mjǫllna will cheer him up.“

“Oh, sweet Celestia, Mjǫllna!” Rarity cried, releasing her friend from the hug. “That poor mare’s in trouble if she’s interested in that brute!

“Um, about that, I don’t think you should call him that in front of him. Mjǫllna wouldn’t like it either,” corrected Fluttershy calmly. “Both are from Scandineighvia, and I’m sure that she’s better-versed in the rules and traditions of their homeland.”

“Well, she’s still in danger. But right now, I really need to drink my infusion. This is turning out to be a truly disastrous day. Fluttershy, would you be so kind to make sure that she’s going to be fine?”

“Rarity, I don’t think that’s a good thing to do.” Fluttershy walked behind Rarity as they went to the kitchen. “Meddling with other ponies’ lives is something that I don’t feel comfortable doing.”

Rarity took a sip of the infusion, tilting her head at the warm touch of the liquid through his lips. “You’re right, Darling, but I’m still worried about her.”

“Drakkar’s behavior has shocked me too. He’s actually kind and helpful, and he loves playing with his pet Gullin. I think that we should ask him about what happened before trying to warn Mjǫllna.”

Rarity drank halfway through the cup of relaxing infusion. “You’re right, Fluttershy” she admitted with a nod. “I just wanted to help him. You know that a friend of my friends is always welcomed at my store.”

“I know, and I’m sure that he does too, but it wasn’t the most appropriate way.”

“I have to go to Mjǫllna’s smithy later,” said Rarity before finishing the infusing. “I asked her to make a few brooches for some of my designs. I’ll apologize to him if he’s still there. Will you come with me, dear?”

“Of course, Rarity,” replied Fluttershy with a smile.

-o-

During his way to Mjǫllna’s smithy, Drakkar’s mind rushed through what had happened at Carousel Boutique. He had all the right in the world to get upset, even angry at what Rarity did. In fact, he remembered that they got fined for pulling somepony’s hat off. However, this was more than extrapolating a law, for Drakkar had a spiritual bond with the pelt, and the bear who wore it before him. In a deep level of his subconscious, he believed without a trace of doubt that the bear granted him his strength and endurance. Take the pelt away, and he’d feel his might fade away, feeling as vulnerable as a colt. He hated showing such weakness to anypony; a drengr shouldn’t show weakness. A mixture of negative emotions didn’t let him show even the weakest smile.

The sweet scents from Sugarcube Corner called Drakkar’s attention, but knew that it wasn’t a good idea to go there. He already had gathered an important debt in the shop, and he needed to restructure his economy here. However, as he walked past it, the familiar sound of iron being hammered against an anvil made Drakkar’s ears perk up and changed to a trot with a smile.

Mjǫllna was forging a heated metal bar with a hammer. Though she had a white mask covering her mouth, a leather apron and her mane up in a bun, Drakkar recognized her coat easily. As she was focused on her work, he had to get closer to the smithy.

“Mjǫllna!” called Drakkar as he trotted towards her.

There was no response from her no matter how many times he called her. It didn’t take long for him to get to the smithy. When he was about to set a hoof inside, Mjǫllna grabbed the metal bar from the cold end and submerged it in a bucket of water, causing a huge column of steam that Drakkar had to dodge with a side jump.

“Drakkar!” said Mjǫllna, pulling the mask down. “I’m sorry for that. Are you okay? Oh, wait a moment.” She tilted her head and reached her ears, pulling out a couple of earplugs. “There, now we can talk. I thought you were going to come earlier.”

“I wasn’t sure where you were going to open the smithy, so I went with Fluttershy to Carousel Boutique to get her dress fixed.”

“Oh, that’s right!” cried Mjǫllna joyfully. “The Grand Galloping Gala is next month! I wish I could go.”

Drakkar raised an eyebrow as that name started to become more common around Ponyville. “What’s the… Grand Galloping Gala?”

“Oh, it’s an amazing party that takes place in Canterlot’s castle!” With glowing eyes, like the ones Drakkar had when talking about Scandineighvia, Mjǫllna pulled the already cooled bar out of the bucket. “Everypony that is somepony is there!”

“It sounds…” Drakkar had to think for a while for an appropriate term, for none of the ones that came to his mind sounded polite, “interesting.”

“You don’t sound convinced, Drakkar.”

“For what you tell me, I picture a lot of those aristocrats talking about their fortunes,” he replied, trying to keep the contempt to himself.

“Oh, no, not at all. I mean, sure, there are some of those there, but a lot of ponies from Ponyville have been invited too.” Mjǫllna let out a giggle. ”Including Pinkie Pie.”

Raising both eyebrows, Drakkar took a step forward. “That Pinkie Pie?” he asked in awe, pointing at Sugarcube Corner. “It might not be as dreadful as I thought.”

With a hopeful sigh, Mjǫllna screwed the bar into a head of what looked like a farm tool. “I wish I could go at least once, but they don’t give invitations away to everypony.”

“Sorry to hear it, Mjǫllna,” said Drakkar as he moved closer to her.

“Oh, it’s okay. Ponyville is quite an exciting town, and Pinkie Pie sure knows how to throw parties. To be fair, we’re never short of those with her around.”

“Tell me about it.”

As soon as Mjǫllna finished adjusting the tool, she looked at Drakkar with a concerned look on her face. “You look a bit off today. Has something happened?”

“Huh? Why do you say that?” Drakkar didn’t want to talk about what happened at Carousel Boutique, but the look on Mjǫllna’s face showed that she wasn’t taking a ‘no’ for an answer.

“I knew it, something’s wrong. Have you got into trouble with Fluttershy?”

“No, Fluttershy and I are fine.” The smirk on Mjǫllna’s face proved to Drakkar that he was getting what she wanted to hear. With a defeated sigh, he resumed talking. “I… yelled at Rarity.”

Mjǫllna stared at him in shock at Drakkar’s statement. “Why? Did she mock you for your pelt?”

“Actually, she took it off. She said she was going to help me with something, but I lost it was soon as I stopped noticing the pelt’s warmth.”

Mjǫllna stared at him in surprise. “Why would she do that?”

With a shrug, Drakkar replied. “She said something about me being an open book or something.”

“Oh, I see,” he said with a giggle. “She’s sometimes a little meddlesome, but she’s always willing to help. But why would you react in such a way for that?”

“It’s… something that I don’t want to talk about.”

“Oh, don’t play the ‘mysterious stallion’ card on me, Drakkar,” complained Mjǫllna jokingly. As she noticed his sorrowful eyes and how he looked away, her smile faded away. “Drakkar…”

“I’m fine, I just… I just don’t want to take it off.”

Mjǫllna walked slowly towards him, stretching her hoof to caress one of the paws. “This is more than just your uniform as a hoofcarl, right?”

No matter that she was mere inches away from him, he looked away, hoping that she’d stop “Mjǫllna, I really don’t—“

“Drakkar,” she insisted, grabbing her face and keeping eye contact with him, “we are both Scandineighvians at heart. There’s nothing you can say to me that I won’t understand. Treyst mik, Drakkar.”

“I trust you, Mjǫllna, it’s just that…” Mjǫllna’s eyes lurked into his soul, with a mixture of care and concern. As if bewitched with a spell, Drakkar felt words forming in his head, but he tried his best to let as least as possible. Time should heal the wounds some day, but such day was yet to come. Grabbing Mjǫllna’s hoof tightly against him, both unaware of his increasing heartbeat, Drakkar finally spoke. “You’re right. This is much more than a bear’s pelt, and the symbol of my status as a hoofcarl. This is the last gift of one of my dearest friends, and I honor his memory by wearing it and jumping into the battlefield with it.”

Both ponies stood silently for a moment, their eyes doing all the talking. Mjǫllna kept a saddened gaze as she tilted her head apologetically, to which Drakkar replied with a gentle shake of his head and a tighter holding of her hoof. The gesture made Mjǫllna smile tenderly, and Drakkar smiled back as she showed no more worry. To his surprise, however, she slowly began to lean forward. Drakkar closed his eyes as he moved towards her to taste the nectar of Mjǫllna’s lips.

The romantic moment was suddenly interrupted with the sound of braking wheels. As Drakkar opened her eyes and began to look around him, searching to whatever made that noise, Mjǫllna rolled her eyes with a slightly annoyed grimace. She looked down to see a young orange pegasus on a scooter.

“Oh, it’s you, Scootaloo,” said Mjǫllna with a wide smile, trying her best to avoid showing her upset. “What brings you here?”

“Rainbow Dash is on her way here to pick up something,” said Scootaloo as she took off her helmet. “And who’s the new pony?”

“Oh, he’s Drakkar, and he’s helping me at the smithy.”

“Yeah, right,” replied Scootaloo with a wink, showing that she had caught them red-hoofed.

Before Drakkar could try and make sense of what was going on, Rainbow Dash flew next to the smithy, performing a couple back flips before landing right next to Scootaloo with her wings extended.

“Wow, that was awesome, Rainbow Dash!” cried Scootaloo, clapping excitedly.

“Bifrǫst Rusning!” said Drakkar with a salute.

“Oh my gosh, Drakkar!” replied Dash with a wide grin. “I had no idea you were working here!”

“So you’re the one who started that weird name fad,” grunted Scootaloo. “I can’t even pronounce that name, and Dash keeps asking to be called like that.”

“Well, I guess you’ve come for the wing-weights you ordered, right?” asked Mjǫllna.

“Yeah, you told me that they would be ready for today. So, are they ready?”

“You bet!” With a satisfied smile, she tilted her head towards one of the shelves behind them. There was a large box sitting in the upper part. “Drakkar, would you mind getting it down for her?”

“Sure.” Drakkar’s horn shone dimly as he focused his magic. Soon, a light brown aura surrounded the box and it flew slowly towards the ponies. However, noticing how the lower side of the box began to yield because of the weight inside it, he put it down and gently dragged it magically next to Rainbow Dash.

“Let’s try these babies,” said Dash as she introduced the wing inside of the box and, with a huge disappointment pulled out a small bar. “What? Where’s the weight?”

“The weights are inside the box,” explained Mjǫllna, holding out a snort. “You can put the ones you think you can handle and adjust them as you get stronger.”

“Right, I guess I expected they were already set up.” After putting the bar inside the box again, she took a look inside, where she saw several metallic donuts of different sizes, each one numbered by how much they weighted. “I’ll be able to get my wings pumped up and show the Wonderbolts who’s Bifrǫst Rusning!”

After handing a bag of bits to Mjǫllna, Rainbow Dash took the box with her four hooves. Though it took her a few flaps to take off, once in mid-air she had no problem flying away at her usual speed. Without Dash around, Scootaloo put her helmet back on and bid the two ponies farewell before rushing away on her scooter.

Drakkar stared dumbfounded at the filly as she moved away. “What’s that thing she’s on?”

“Just a Scooter,” replied Mjǫllna. “It’s a toy for colts and fillies, but she’s quite good with it.”

“If you say that’s a toy…”

Though Scootaloo and Rainbow Dash’s visit had killed their romantic moment, Mjǫllna threw a teasing gaze at him. “So, Drakkar, before you became a hoofcarl, what did you do with your life?”

“Me?” He snorted softly and showed a wide grin. “Well, aside from working at my family’s farm and helping with the patrols every now and then, I was a skáld.”

With a loud gasp, Mjǫllna stared at him with widened eyes. “No way! A skáld? Really?”

“Yes, I was called to perform some of my poems at a few celebrations. Nothing too important, but it was great to be in the spotlight for a change.”

“Oh, I want to hear some of the poems you wrote!”

Mjǫllna’s sudden jump towards him made him take a step back and almost fall. “W-well, I have to remember them, and of course adapt them to Equestrian.”

“My goodness, a Skáld! That’s amazing!” As an idea came to her mind, Mjǫllna drew a brazen smile. “Oh, and what about a mansǫngr?”

At the sound of the word, Drakkar blushed furiously. “M-m-mansǫngr?”

“Yes! My grandmother told me about them, the love poems! I’d love to hear how Scandineighvian ponies sing to their lovers.”

Snickers were the only reply Mjǫllna got from Drakkar. “I’ve heard a few, but never wrote one myself. Aside from having nopony to write to, a mansǫngr could get me outlawed.”

Mjǫllna stared dumbfounded at him with a raised eyebrow. “Really? Wow, my grandmother never told me that.”

“You know what they say: ‘courtship is the single most deadly pastime for the young Scandineighvian stallion.’”

With a playful giggle, Mjǫllna walked next to him to greet a couple of mares that were coming towards the shop. “But we aren’t in Scandineighvia anymore.”

“Good afternoon, Mjǫllna dear,” greeted Rarity courtly. “I hope you have my order ready. My designs are simply ruining my schedules, and I really need some good news today.”

“Of course, Rarity, everything’s ready! I’ll go get them for you.”

With that, Mjǫllna left to the storage, leaving Rarity and Fluttershy with Drakkar. At first, everypony stayed silent, but Fluttershy pushed her friend gently forward.

“Drakkar,” Rarity said after clearing her throat, “I want to apologize for what happened at my shop. I should’ve told you what I wanted to do.”

With a long sigh, Drakkar nodded gently. “I understand. Fluttershy has told me wonders about you, and how you love helping your friends. That’s something I admire, Rarity.”

“Oh, please, it’s nothing,” replied Rarity with a light blush. Behind her, Fluttershy smiled profusely.

“However,” he continued as he rested his hoof on one of the pelt’s paws with a serious face, “this pelt has been with me for several years. Not only is my uniform as a hoofcarl, but also an heirloom that I just can’t allow to be away from me.”

“If I’m allowed, Drakkar, what exactly is a hoofcarl?”

“For what my grandmother told me,” said Mjǫllna while carrying a small chest with her, “hoofcarlar work as soldiers under direct command of the Jarl. Am I right, Drakkar?“

”That’s right.” With a prominent smile and a nod, Drakkar moved on. “Depending on our experience, hoofcarlar can also act as advisors for the Jarl, but we’re always their personal guards.”

“So you’re like a Royal Guard?” asked Rarity, curiosity increasingly taking over her.

“You could say that, yes,” answered Mjǫllna with a grin. “Not to mention his reputation as a skáld!”

“Pardon?”

“Poet,” translated Drakkar proudly. “Scandineighvia has a mostly oral tradition, and skáld have passed stories and legends for generations. Warrior poets are quite common; most of us sing about our glorious feats at celebrations and festivals.”

“Not to mention how highly regarded they are,” added Mjǫllna as she looked at Drakkar. “As far as my grandmother told me, some skáld were as praised as royals.”

“That actually happened the last year, when I performed for the Jarl at the annual Alþing assembly.” A snort slipped through his lips at the memory. “Yes, I remember that, after the performance, the glíma tournament took place, and my friend Megin-gjarð dedicated the championship to me.”

“So you’re actually a more of a high class pony after all,” said Rarity with an inquisitive gaze.

“Compared to Equestrian society, yes.” Mjǫllna let the small chest fall on the table, throwing a cold stare at Rarity that screamed ‘and he’s mine’. With a confident smile, she pushed the container forward. “Here you have the brooches, Rarity. I’m sure you’ll be more than satisfied.”

“Y-yes, of course.” Having caught the message, Rarity opened the chest gently, and gawked at the half a dozen of brooches in front of her. Two of them were star-shaped, with a crescent moon engraved in a relief in the center. In the middle rested a couple of manepins resembling pegasus wings, and the last two were oval-shaped with a crown on top. All six of them were coated in silver. “These are simply marvelous, Mjǫllna. I knew I could trust your skilled hooves on this.” With a pleased smile, Rarity closed the chest and levitated inside the saddlebags. Once she closed it, she gave Mjǫllna a bag of bits before turning to Drakkar. “Have you thought about reciting some of your poems here in Equestria?”

“We were talking about that before you got here,” said Mjǫllna. “But apparently he’s a bit shy about it.”

“I can understand that,” admitted Fluttershy as she tried to keep herself away from the conversation.

“Well, I must return to my shop and finish my designs.” With a polite nod, she turned around, ready to leave. “Thanks again, Mjǫllna. Goodbye to you too, Drakkar.”

“Farewell, Rarity,” replied Drakkar.

“Are you going to stay here much longer?” asked Fluttershy before suddenly correcting herself. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, just to know if you’ll be coming home with me now to get lunch ready. I can go on my own, if you have things to do here.”

“I’m going to close for today,” said Mjǫllna as she threw a bucket of water into the forge. The huge steam cloud spread through the smithy. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Come sooner next time or you’ll find the job done,” she added with a wink.

“Sure, when do you open?”

“I get breakfast at half past seven, and then start getting the smithy ready. You know, cleaning and lighting the forge and all. I open to the public at nine, but you can come at eight or so. That way you can help me get everything ready.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Drakkar bid Mjǫllna farewell, with a gentle bow and kissing her hoof. “Until tomorrow then, fríð merr,” he said with a tender grin.

She covered her mouth to hide her giggling. “I’ll be looking forward to it, fríðr hestr.”

“Come on, Fluttershy, Gullin must be missing me a lot.”

“Okay.” She waved to Mjǫllna with an innocent smile. “See you later, Mjǫllna.”

“You’re welcome to visit whenever you want, Fluttershy!” Mjǫllna waved back until both ponies had moved out of site. With a long, dreaming sigh, she hopped joyfully behind the forge. “Yes, yes, yes! Let’s hope that we don’t get interrupted tomorrow.”

Leikar ok draugar

Leikar ok draugar (Games and ghosts)

Mjǫllna double checked the smithy to make sure that everything was in its place. She had already lighted off the forge, and was putting the hammer, pliers and molds on the shelf where she used to leave her finished works. After taking her leather apron off, she hung it with her mask on a few nails she had hammered to the wall. Once she had finished organizing the place, she took a last look at the workshop with a beaming expression.

When Mjǫllna turned to her house’s door, it opened before she could rest her hoof on the handle. She was met by an old Earth mare, her purple coat unhindered by the tattered brown hood over her head. A lick of light green mane peeked out in front of her left eye. Her short, wavy tail hung heavily, resembling a sprout of a fruit, and she had a bunch of grapes as a cutie mark. There was kindness and strength in her eyes, not unlikeMjǫllna’s.

“Lunch is ready, Mjǫllna,” said the old mare.

“Thanks, granny Vínviðr,” replied Mjǫllna, grinning widely.

“You seem quite happier than usual.” Vínviðr stared at her for a moment with inquisitive eyes. “An important order, maybe?”

“I wish,” said Mjǫllna, shaking her head. “Unfortunately, the business is quite slow. “I finished fixing Applejack’s farming tools, so I’m going to be crafting some ornaments until I get a new order.”

Mjǫllna took a step back as her grandmother got closer to her. Widening her eyes as her wrinkly lips drew into a broad smile, Vínviðr spoke her second hypothesis. “Oooh! Could it be that there’s a stallion that’s got your attention?” she asked playfully. With a short snicker, Mjǫllna nodded. “Oh, my little grandfilly has finally found a very special somepony! Your mother will love to hear all about it!”

“Uh, actually,” said Mjǫllna as a worried grimace distorted her face, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Vínviðr raised an eyebrow at her granddaughter’s words. “My dear, your mom has been looking forward to the time you found a suitor you accepted far more than anything. Why wouldn’t she like to know about it?”

“I’ll tell you everything when we sit at the table, granny,” said Mjǫllna as she pointed at the doorway.

Both mares walked inside the house, ending up in the dining room. The dinner table was a thick square of wood, with a plain linen cloth covering it. Lunch was already served, with dishes on three of the four sides and the pot of soup on the fourth one, as well as a water jug. There were hollow horns next to the two plates in front of each other, while the other one had a normal glass. On that seat, a yellow pegasus mare with a long, fiery red mane sat patiently, waiting for the other two ponies to come.

“I was beginning to worry, Mjǫllna,” said the pegasus with a short grin, her bright orange eyes staring at both mares. “You usually don’t take so long at the smithy. I thought you had run away with a lover you never told us about or something,” she added with a laugh.

“Well, apparently you won’t have to wait much longer for that to happen, Hearth Fire” replied Vínviðr with a giggle. “Our young mare has found a very special somepony!”

“Granny, I don’t think we should—”

“Finally, praised be Celestia!” said Hearth Fire, raising her hooves and looking at the ceiling. “You took your time to settle down and choose a suitor.”

“Mother, please, by the way you speak it looks like I’m in my forties!” complained Mjǫllna with a blush. “I’m still too young for you to talk like that.”

“Come on, sit at the table,” offered Hearth Fire, tapping the chair where Mjǫllna always sat. “Tell me all about him. What’s his name? Do we know him?”

Mjǫllna snickered as she kept eye contact with her mother. “Not really, no.”

“So it’s from another city, then?” Hearth Fire leaned forward as she served water to each drinking horn and her own glass.

“Oh, yes, he’s from quite far away! I’m sure you’ve never met him!” Though she tried to find advice or a scapegoat in her grandmother’s gaze, Vínviðr was also very interested in knowing her lover’s identity, so she was being no help at all.

“Where’s he from, then? Las Pegasus? Manehattan? Fillydelphia, maybe?”

“No, it’s a bit more to the North. Way up North, actually.”

At first Vínviðr stared at Mjǫllna in confusion, but her eyes soon widened as she seemed to understand why her granddaughter wasn’t too enthusiastic about talking about it. Hearth Fire noticed the old mare’s reaction, and her jolliness slowly faded away; even the closeness of her voice disappeared, turning into a slightly scolding tone.

“Mjǫllna,” said Hearth Fire, frowning was she tapped the table with a hoof. “What’s this stallion’s name?”

Finding herself without a way out, she took a deep breath, crossed her front hooves on the table, and spoke. “Mother, his name’s Drakkar.”

Though her mother closed her eyes and began to massage her forehead as if trying to calm down, Vínviðr leaned forward with hopeful eyes and began to bombard her granddaughter with questions.

“That’ wonderful!” she cried, almost throwing the dishes to the floor. “How did you meet him? What’s he doing here? Is he handsome?”

“Granny, one question at a time,” said Mjǫllna. She grabbed her drinking horn and took a short sip before resuming. “We actually met at the market. I was quite surprised at first, because he looked so familiar. He’s a hoofcarl, you see, so he wears this pelt as you’ve always told me they did.” The more she spoke about him, the wider her grin became, and Vínviðr nodded at every word with a broad smile. “Anyhow, he galloped towards me because he was surprised about hearing another Scandineighvian name here in Equestria. He came here to update the maps they have. And about him being handsome... he has this long, leonine mane falling over his stout shoulders. He’s almost as large as Big Macintosh, which is quite a lot for a unicorn.”

“My my, that sounds like jackpot to me,” said Vínviðr with a toothless grin. “That’s my little Mjǫllna! So, when are we going to meet this wonderful suitor of yours?”

“Are you two out of your minds?!” cried Hearth Fire, her voice rasping in her throat as she pounded the table with both hooves. She turned her head from one side to the other as her chest pumped due to her ragged breathing. “Mjǫllna, there are hundreds— no, thousands of single stallions in Equestria. Why did you have to go for the first barbarian that comes to town?”

“Mother, he’s not a barbarian!” complained Mjǫllna. “On the contrary, he’s a very cultured stallion! It may mean nothing to you, but he’s a skáld too.”

“And you believe that because he told you so, right?” grunted Hearth Fire. “Sure, he could tell you he’s the King of Fimbulvetr, and why would you doubt him?” she added, waving her hooves as her voice flooded in sarcasm.

“Mother, please, keep the snarky comments to yourself,” replied Mjǫllna with a frown. “He knows stories, and I invited him to come to granny’s birthday to tell us Gleipna’s edda.”

“They composed an edda about my mother?” repeated Vínviðr, her eyes bright with hope. “Of course, of course he must come! A drengr is always welcomed in my house!”

“Well, I am opposed to that!” said Hearth Fire bluntly. “What do you both want, get pillaged, or plundered or something!?”

“That’s enough, mother!” shouted Mjǫllna as she got up from the chair. “You have no reason to think so horribly of him!”

“I have no reason to trust his word either, and I don’t want him here, and that’s that.” Hearth Fire got up from the table and turned away towards the ladder leading to the upper floor.

“Come back here, Eldstaðr, we’re not done!” cried Vínviðr. Hearth stood frozen in place as the old mare tapped the table with her hoof, waiting patiently until her daughter sat at the table again. “Whose house is this, daughter?”

“Mother, he’s a—”

“Whose house is this, I repeat? And you know I hate repeating myself.” Vínviðr threw a piercing glare at her daughter, expecting her answer.

“It-it’s yours, mother,” said Hearth Fire without looking up at her.

“Good, I’m glad we’re getting somewhere,” she replied with a nod as she crossed her hooves in front of her. “Now listen to me, because I’m only saying this once: everypony in my house can do whatever they want. That means that Mjǫllna can date a Scandineighvian stallion if she wants to. Or did I ban you or drove you from home when you decided to forsake your Scandineighvian heritage and change your name to an Equestrian one?” she asked, leaning forward with a raised eyebrow. Hearth Fire shook her head slowly, to which Vínviðr replied with a nod and an offer of her hoof. “There you go.”

“Besides, mother,” said Mjǫllna, “we are also Scandineighvians, and you have nothing against us.”

“Because we’re different!” cried Hearth Fire. “We come from Scandineighvia, but we were born here and were raised in this culture. We’re not barbarians! But you decided to embrace your tribal heritage and look at you! Working as a blacksmith in a place where you seldom get orders!”

“We’ve been the blacksmiths of Ponyville since Gleipna settled here!” said Mjǫllna, hitting her chest as a sign of pride. “It’s been our family business for four generations! Sure, it’s not a job that allows us to live a life of luxury, but we’ve always had food on the table!”

“Not to mention that you’ve become a bulky mare,” added Hearth Fire, pointing at her daughter’s front legs and chest.

“I’m not bulky, mother, I’m fit!”

“No, the Wonderbolts are fit,” corrected Hearth Fire. “You’re broad-shouldered. You have the body of a stallion. No wonder you scare suitors away.”

“That’s absurd, Hearth Fire,” said Vínviðr. “Applejack works a lot at the farm too, and she has a build resembling Mjǫllna’s.”

“Look, I want the best for my daughter, and dating a Scandineighvian stallion is far from what I’d consider worthy for her,” stated Hearth Fire with a frown.

“She’s my granddaughter too, and I want her happiness as much as you,” replied Vínviðr. “That’s why, if she found a stallion she likes, I won’t stand in her way.”

Hearth Fire grunted loudly, then stared at her daughter as she shook her head. ”Why do you have to do this? What has he given to you that nopony else has?”

“He’s… special,” said Mjǫllna, looking away for a moment. “I’m not sure I can explain it. He’s so exotic and so familiar at the same time. We can spend hours talking about Scandineighvia or whatever happens in Ponyville, and there’s always something new. Why do you find it so hard to understand that I love him?” she added, spreading her front hooves.

“I can’t ban him from coming to our house,” said Hearth Fire as she looked at Vínviðr through the corner of the eye, “but that doesn’t mean that I want him to be here or dating you. I want to protect you, but it looks like you don’t see it.” With a disgruntled huff, she got up from the table, looking at both mares. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

Hearth Fire walked out of the dining room towards the stairs to her room. When Mjǫllna got up to follow her, Vinviðr raised a hoof and shook her head, to which her granddaughter reacted by sitting down again, letting out an exasperated grunt.

“Leave her alone for a moment,” said Vínviðr. “She needs to put her thoughts together.”

“Why is she like this, granny?” asked Mjǫllna with a shrug. “Why can’t she accept it?”

“Your mother and you went through the same events during your fillyhood,” explained Vínviðr resting both hooves on the table. “Young colts and fillies were mean to both of you, making fun of your names for being different from the usual ones we heard here. And both of you defended yourselves and your honor. However, your mother felt ashamed of her actions, no matter how much I tried to support her. Of course that beating up a classmate is wrong, and I scolded her as much as I did you, but I also told her that—”

“Our heritage and legacy are to be honored, and we have to defend them with pride.” Mjǫllna and her grandmother recited the sentence at the same time, which made both mares laugh on the spot. “The same thing you said to me.”

“Where you accepted the punishment and embraced your Scandineighvian ancestry to follow our traditions, your mother abandoned them, feeling ashamed of being one of those barbarian Vikings she read about in the library.”

“But granny, you told me that those called Vikings were actually raiders who wanted to seek fame and fortune,” said Mjǫllna with an annoyed grunt. “That wasn’t the average rule! That’s as preposterous as the stories about the horned helmets we supposedly use!”

“I know, dear, but I’m asking you to be patient with your mother,” insisted Vínviðr calmly, resting her hooves on her granddaughters’. “Someday, she’ll understand that we didn’t become civilized ponies; that we were always like this. She’ll try to keep you away from Drakkar for her own reasons, but I pray to the wise Óðinn for the day when she understands that we are as civilized as Equestrian ponies.” Vínviðr showed a tender smile at Mjǫllna, followed by a wink. “Until then, enjoy your time with Drakkar. In fact, why don’t you go and spend some time with him? Do you know where he’s staying?”

Mjǫllna nodded profusely. “Yes, he’s staying at Fluttershy’s. He’ll surely be playing with the wild boar friend he’s made.”

“Then go with him,” said Vínviðr, pushing her lightly with her hoof.

“What about mother?” insisted Mjǫllna.

“Don’t worry about her. As far as I know, she’ll disapprove, but she won’t try anything odd against both of you. Now, go. Don’t make your stallion wait!” she said as she got up and walked towards the door and opened it for her. With a tender kiss on the cheek, Mjǫllna bid her grandmother farewell and trotted to meet her beloved.

-o-

After returning from Mjǫllna’s workplace, Fluttershy invited Drakkar to a picnic with her animal friends. Being a lover of the outdoors and enjoying Gullin’s company, he accepted without hesitation. The preparations took only a few minutes, as every creature helped a little to get it ready. On a large red and white cloth rested several dishes with sandwiches, nuts, animal feed and flowers, as well as plates full of water, a teapot and a couple of cups for both ponies to drink out of.

During the first half of the picnic, Drakkar remained thoughtful, barely speaking a word and simply passing some food when Fluttershy asked him. Noticing this after finishing her chatting with the rest of the animals, she talked to him.

“Um, Drakkar, is everything okay? Is something wrong with the picnic? If you need anything, I can bring it to you,” said Fluttershy, getting up and about to turn around and get inside her house.

“Everything’s okay, Fluttershy,” answered Drakkar, raising a hoof while keeping his thoughtful face. Letting out a long sigh, she looked at her with a worried expression. “I’m just trying to think of a poem for Mjǫllna.”

Fluttershy’s ears lowered as she looked away. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Fluttershy. It’s hard to think of what to say in the poem, and then making sure that it’s correctly written, following the rules of skaldic poetry.” Drakkar looked at Harry, who was sitting next to him holding a jug of honey in one paw and sticking the other one inside to get the tasty food. “Do you have any ideas about what I could say?”

Harry shrugged and let out a long growl which made Drakkar burst into laughter. Fluttershy, though, scolded him on the spot.

“Harry, that’s rude!” cried Fluttershy in shock with a gasp. “You can’t be serious!”

“I have to admit that he’s right,” said Drakkar as he began to calm down.

“Drakkar, you can’t say that to her!”

“I’m not going to write about that, Fluttershy,” assured Drakkar, trying to hold back the laughter. “But it surprises me; you look a bit embarrassed.”

“How couldn’t I be?” insisted Fluttershy, gesturing with her hooves as she kept speaking. “You can’t just tell a mare she has a beautiful… you know…”

“A beautiful haunch,” finished Drakkar.

“It sounds so… rude. That’s not the kind of thing you should say to her.”

“You’re repeating yourself, Fluttershy,” said Drakkar kindly as he gestured to soothe her. “You see, my problem with the poem isn’t having nothing to say, which I have. But the main problem is keeping all the praising in the dróttkvætt-style skaldic poetry; eight lines with six syllabi each, all of them having three stresses and ending in a trochee.” With an exasperated huff, Drakkar lowered his head, staring at his plate on the cloth. “Even for a skilled skáld, composing one of these is no small feat, and I’m a bit rusty concerning poetry.”

During the conversation, Harry growled to call everypony’s attention as a group of fillies trotted towards them. Though Drakkar only recognized the orange filly with purple mane, Fluttershy waved to all of them.

“Hello, girls,” greeted Fluttershy tenderly. “I wasn’t expecting visitors today.”

“Howdy, Fluttershy!” said the yellow earth filly with a large bow on the head holding her long, crimson mane that lazily fell at her right side.

“Scootaloo told us you had a new friend,” continued a young unicorn filly, white as a Scandineighvian snowfield with a mane of purple and pink, a combination that Drakkar had just seen for the first time, “and she insisted we should meet him.”

“There he is!” said Scootaloo, pointing at the brown stallion, who stopped drinking his tea as the three ponies staring at him made him raise an eyebrow. Scootaloo’s friends grinned widely at the sight.

“It’s true, he really looks a lot like mah brother!” said Apple Bloom.

“Save for the long mane,” corrected Sweetie Belle.

“And that he’s a unicorn,” added Scootaloo

“His coat’s also of a different color,” said Sweetie Belle.

“Okay, mahbe he doesn’t resemble Big Mac that much, after all,” admitted Apple Bloom with a disappointed shrug.

Drakkar, ignoring what the girls were talking about, looked at Fluttershy with an expression that begged for an explanation for what was going on. “It’s okay, Drakkar,” said Fluttershy as she extended her hoof towards Apple Bloom, who was the leftmost, and then moved slowly to the right as he introduced the fillies. “These are Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle.” Every filly greeted Drakkar as Fluttershy called her names. “Girls, this is Drakkar.” The stallion replied by hitting his chest and giving a vigorous nod, throwing an informal smirk while keeping an eye on Scootaloo.

“I remember you,” said Drakkar as he pointed at the orange filly.

“Heh, sorry about that,” replied Scootaloo as her ears lowered, though she didn’t lose her joyful smile.

“Whatcha talkin’ about?” asked Apple Bloom with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, he’s Mjǫllna’s coltfriend, and I interrupted them in the middle of a kiss,” said Scootaloo as if it was the most common situation of the daily routine.

“Really?!” asked Sweetie Belle with a hop forward. “That’s so sweet! Did you already talk about the wedding? I love weddings! We went to a wedding recently, we’ll behave properly I promise!”

“Girls, please,” interjected Fluttershy. She raised both hooves and stood shyly between the fillies and Drakkar. “I don’t think we should talk about it.”

“No worries, Fluttershy. I’ve handled foals before,” assured Drakkar with a nod as he pushed her to the side gently. He then turned to face Sweetie Belle with raised eyebrow. “You look familiar, little one.”

“She’s Rarity’s younger sister,” said Fluttershy.

Though at first Drakkar showed a discomforted grimace, Sweetie Belle’s tender eyes and visage appeased him swiftly, changing his expression to a comfortable smile. “Well, that explains it. Pleased to meet you three. By the way,” he added as he turned to Apple Bloom. “Who’s this Big Macintosh you speak of?”

“Oh, he’s mah older brother!” said Apple Bloom proudly. “Ah have two older siblings: Applejack and Big Macintosh. They’re the strongest ponies Ah’ve ever met! We work and live at Sweet Apple Acres, the apple orchard!”

“Farmers,” replied Drakkar with an approving nod. “A noble profession indeed. We also grow our own food in Scandineighvia. Now, may I ask why you were looking for me?” he added with an inquisitive stare as he crossed his front hooves over his chest.

“We wanted to try and get our cutie marks!” cried Scootaloo. “We’ve tried a lot of things, but we’ve had no luck so far.”

“But we thought that mahbe some Scandineighvian activities might help us get them!” said Apple Bloom with a gleeful hop. “So we figured we could ask you to help us get our cutie marks!”

“Please, Mister Drakkar?” begged Sweetie Belle. The three fillies stared at him with pleading eyes, keeping her hooves together and showing the widest grins they could offer.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said as he turned to Fluttershy. “What do you think? Should I spend some time with them to see if they get their cutie mark with some Scandineighvian activities?”

“I’m not sure about it either, but…” She looked at the three fillies, who were intensifying their begging stare and getting closer to both ponies. In the end, she obliged with a sigh. “Okay, but be careful with them, Drakkar.”

“Yay! Cutie Mark Crusader Scandineighvian ponies!” they cried at the same time with a high jump and frantic waving of their hooves.

Drakkar nodded with a confident grin. “Fluttershy, do you have a thick rope that I can borrow?” he asked.

“Um, sure, I have one. Why do you need it?”

“One of our favorite pastimes,” replied Drakkar with a wink. “They want to be Scandineighvians, so I’m thinking of playing some of our games with them.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in a moment. Don’t hurt yourselves!” said Fluttershy before getting inside her house.

“So we’re going to play games?” asked Scootaloo with a frown. “No Norse crafting or anything? I expected something different,” she added with a huff.

“There are a few games that we can play.” He looked at the picnic table and how some of the animals were still snacking. “No hnútukast, though.”

“Hanuwhatnow?” said Apple Bloom as she stared at her friends to see if they had listened to the weird name correctly. Their shocked faces, however, showed that they hadn’t either.

“Hnútukast,” repeated Drakkar, smiling. “It’s a contest where everypony flings the leftovers from lunch or dinner and try to injure the rest of the contestants. It’s really fun if you have quick reflexes,” he added with a loud laugh. “I remember once when I barely avoided getting hit by a piece of hardened bread. The pony behind me got knocked out cold! That was crazy, I tell you!”

The three fillies stared at him in awe as they sat motionless for a while. “What the hay is your bread made of? Concrete?” asked Scootaloo angrily. “You’re pulling our legs here, mister, and I’m not buying it!”

“I don’t blame you, little girl,” said Drakkar with a weak frown that faded almost instantly, “but I assure you that it’s true. We are strong ponies, and that includes flinging food with such strength that we can take our friends down by throwing chunks of bread from the previous day.”

“What other games you have?” asked Sweetie Belle. “Do you have ball games?”

“Actually yes; knattleikr we call it. It involves a ball and two teams with bats to hit it.” Drakkar looked up with a nostalgic grin. “I was a player in one of the mediocre teams, and in one of the leagues ten years ago, we reached the finals, but the last game had to be cancelled due to excessive violence.
However—”

“Wait, time out!” interrupted Scootaloo, raising both hooves. “You just told us that you have a game that consists on knocking out ponies by throwing leftovers at them.”

“Hnútukast, that’s right,” replied Drakkar with an approving nod.

“Right, so, when you tell me that you had to cancel a ball game for excessive violence,” continued Scootaloo with a raised eyebrow, “I’m really curious about what you consider ‘excessive violence’ there.”

“Well, it all started with a point from our team that the referee considered not valid,” started Drakkar, numbering the events with tips of his hooves. “Then the arguments and the punch to the referee came, followed by the screams from the viewers.” He scratched the back of his head as he went on speaking. “The last thing I remember was getting knocked out cold a bit after both teams started fighting against each other and the public jumping into the field ready to join the conflict; the whole town got involved.”

As they heard the story, their jaws dropped and their eyes opened widely in shock. “Okay, that is something I’d call excessive,” said Scootaloo after a while.

“But you don’t need to worry, I have some games planned that are safer for you to play,” assured Drakkar with a nod. Fluttershy’s door opened as she came out with a long rope hanging at her sides. “There’s Fluttershy. We’re going to play one of the most common games foals and adults alike play in Scandineighvia.” As his horn shone brightly, Drakkar lifted the rope and offered one end to the fillies as he showed a proud beam. “Toga hǫnk!”

Apple Bloom grabbed the rope with one hoof, blinking in confusion. “Okay, so what’s the game about?”

“Two teams grab each end of the rope, and they have to pull the other team towards them,” explained Drakkar as he offered the second end to Scootaloo. “Though it’s a game and a common competition, we usually practice toga hǫnk to strengthen our muscles for rowing our longboats. When doing that,” he added while sitting down, “we get down in front of the other pony and we press our hind hooves against theirs, like this.” Drakkar gestured Sweetie Belle to come closer to him, and she took the same stance as him. “From this position, both contestants pull with all their strengths, trying to unbalance the other pony, and the winner is the one who stays in the original position.”

“Ah guess we can give it a try,” said Apple Bloom while sitting down in front of Scootaloo, her friend following suit. “Ready, Scootaloo?”

“Yeah, whenever you are!”

“On your marks!” cried Drakkar as he raised a hoof. Both fillies grabbed the rope tightly, throwing challenging stares at each other. “Get set!” Apple Bloom and Scootaloo nodded and pressed their hind hooves against each other’s. “Go!”

At Drakkar’s signal, both fillies pulled with all their strengths. Though Apple Bloom seemed to be stronger, Scootaloo’s frenetic flapping of her wings gave her enough power to compensate her lack of physical prowess. Sweetie Belle witnessed the game with great interest next to Drakkar, who monitored them to make sure that everything was safe.

“Um, I don’t think I want to play against them, mister,” said Sweetie Belle, her voice showing a mixture of sadness and fear. “They’re too strong compared to me.”

Drakkar looked at her through the corner of the eye, nodding slowly. “I have a variation of the game that you might be able to join once they’re done.”

Both fillies seemed to be quite balanced, and Scootaloo posed as a worthy contestant despite her lack of strength. However, when her wings began to flutter slower and sweat started to fall down her forehead, Apple Bloom gained advantage little by little, and a powerful pull made Scootaloo fall against her friend’s chest.

“Well done, you two!” said Drakkar proudly with a pound on the ground. “That was one of the most balanced toga hǫnk game I’ve witnessed in months! You should be proud of yourselves!”

“Phew, that was pretty intense for a game,” said Apple Bloom as she helped her friend getting up.

“Yeah… it was… exhausting,” replied Scootaloo, breathing raggedly and wiping the sweat from her forehead. “Wanna try, Sweetie Belle?” she added while looking back at her friend.

“Uh… I don’t think that’s my kind of game,” she admitted with a shudder. “But Drakkar said there was a version that I could play.”

“That’s right,” said Drakkar as he dragged his hoof, drawing a line on the ground. “As the konungr of Fimbulvetr competed against eight of his soldiers,” he continued as he walked a few hoofsteps before drawing another line, “you three will compete against me.”

“That’s a bit unfair, don’t ya think?” said Apple Bloom with a frown. “You’re a full-grown stallion!”

“And you’re three versus one,” he replied with a smirk, magically pulling one of the edges of the rope. “The rules here are simple too; you stand behind those lines and pull. Whoever crosses their mark, loses. And to make it balanced, I’ll only use one of my front hooves.” That said, Drakkar stood on his hind legs and grabbed the rope with one of his hooves, resting the other one on his back. “Ready?”

“Ready!” cried the three fillies as each one held the rope. Apple Bloom took the front place, with Sweetie Belle standing in the middle and Scootaloo on the back to make sure that her fluttering didn’t disturb any of her friends.

“Go!”

At the signal, the three fillies pulled with all their might, but Drakkar barely moved. The only sign that he was actually doing something was the tension in his right front hoof. Though he had to deal with his own balance to avoid falling, he didn’t seem to be having trouble, and focused on standing his ground, enjoying how the girls worked as a team.

-o-

During the game, Mjǫllna arrived at Fluttershy’s, unnoticed at first by Drakkar and the fillies. Fluttershy, who stayed with the rest of the animals trying not to watch the game, waved at her and gestured her to come closer. She declined politely with a shake and a raised hoof, watching the game from a distance instead.

Occasionally during the game, Drakkar would lean a bit forward to give the fillies the impression that they were winning, only to pull back again to recover the advantage. He cheered them from his position, and they doubled their efforts as they felt they could win. Covering her muzzle to avoid causing distractions, Mjǫllna giggled at the scene; they looked like a father playing with his daughters, a thought to which she nodded slowly in approval.

Drakkar looked around him, first to his left, where Fluttershy and the rest of the animals were. Save for the pegasus, who was covering her eyes and shivering, everyone else was jumping and cheering, turning what started as a silent game into something that resembled a local championship. Once he looked to the right, however, he noticed Mjǫllna for the first time, who waved at him from her place.

“Mjǫllna!” he cried as he waved back at her with his free hoof.

“He’s distracted!” whispered Scootaloo at her friends. “Now’s our chance! Pull!”

Caught off-guard by the sudden mighty pull, Drakkar lost balance and tried to fall on his free hoof without crossing the line. However, his body was too far forward by the time he realized and he fell muzzle first to the ground.

After a few seconds recovering their breath, the fillies hugged each other, hopping and singing. “We won! We won!” cried Scootaloo.

“Ah can’t believe we did it!” said Apple Bloom.

After a moment, the three fillies came to a sudden halt to turn and check their flanks, only to see them as devoid of cutie marks as always.

Meanwhile, Mjǫllna had trotted her way next to Drakkar, who had gotten up with a grunt.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he replied with a laugh as he brushed the dust away. “I’m glad to see you again.”

“I’ll try to be less distracting next time,” she replied with a wink.

“Mister Drakkar?” called Sweetie Belle. Both ponies turned to meet the filly. “Are we going to play more games?”

“Sure, I have a few of them in mind.” Drakkar stood again on his hind legs, pounding his hooves together with a smirk. “It’s time to practice glíma!”

“Wrestling,” translated Mjǫllna before anypony had time to ask.

“Right.” As Drakkar began to explain the rules, the fillies whispered to each other as Scootaloo explained to them that the mare who had just arrived was Drakkar’s fillyfriend. “The rules here are as follows: you grab your opponent and try to throw them to the ground. You can either make them trip and fall or lift them and then put them down as long as they don’t land on their hooves.” Though the fillies were talking to each other, they also seemed to be paying attention. “Any doubts?”

“I think we should show them how it’s done,” offered Mjǫllna playfully with a wave of her tail.

Drakkar raised an eyebrow, following the mare’s game. “I don’t know, it might be a bit too much.”

“I bend iron to do my bidding daily,” she replied as she let out an arrogant huff. “I’m sure I’ll be able to put up a fight.”

Drakkar burst into laughter. “That’s the attitude of the North!” he said with a shining grin.

“And there’s so much more where that came from.” Mjǫllna stood up on her hind legs, spreading her front hooves with a confident smile. “Ready when you are!”

“Let’s go!”

Both ponies charged towards each other, wrapping their front legs around the other’s waist when their bodies collided. Though Mjǫllna was less imposing physically, Drakkar barely moved her from the spot at first. With a loud grunt, she bent her knees and lifted Drakkar, much to everypony’s astonishment. Before she was able to throw him to the ground, he pounded the floor with his right hind leg and tumbled to regain balance. Shock showed in Drakkar’s eyes, and he even looked slightly pale due to his near defeat.

“Come on, Drakkar, stop holding back!” complained Mjǫllna in a whisper. “I know you’re far stronger than this!” In Drakkar’s eyes, she could see concern. It was obvious to her that he was worried about hurting her. She remembered their almost kiss, and knew what to say to unleash Drakkar’s might.

“Listen to me, Drakkar,” she whispered again, pulling him close to her, their muzzles almost touching. “I want a strong stallion by my side, one that makes me feel protected and safe. One that can assure me that whatever family we might have will want for nothing. If I can beat that stallion, then that’s not the stallion I want.” Mjǫllna noticed how Drakkar’s grip tightened, his eyes widening as his hooves trembled slightly. She then turned to a much more charming tone. “Think of me as Queen Brynhild,” teased Mjǫllna with a wink. “Do you want me? Be my heroic Siggurðr!”

As Drakkar showed a slowly growing smile, his horn shone dimly before letting out a short, challenging bear growl.

“That’s right, give me all you have, my Siggurðr,” replied Mjǫllna. She then caressed his muzzle with hers tauntingly. “I can take it.”

Before she finished flirting, and while Drakkar still stood in front of her dumbfounded, Mjǫllna rammed him in an attempt to trip him, but he reacted quickly, taking a step back with such strength that his hoof sank slightly into the ground. She nodded roguishly in approval, to which he replied with a smirk. Without hesitation, Drakkar lifted Mjǫllna over his head, a move she countered with a buck to the chest that pushed him back and caused him to release her. When Mjǫllna landed on her four hooves, she rushed again to tackle Drakkar, who wasn’t able to dodge her and did his best not to fall back. No matter how hard she tried, he barely moved from the spot. Mjǫllna looked up at him with a grin and her teeth gritted as her mane waved in every direction in the middle of the frenzied fight.

When Mjǫllna’s grip began to weaken, Drakkar’s horn shone again and he let out a louder growl before pushing her in an attempt to overrun her. Despite her efforts in avoiding it by both trying to stand ground and countering with her own strength, she tripped and fell on her back. Drakkar closely following her, though he was able to land on his four hooves solidly on the ground, mere inches over her, both staring in each other’s eyes. Mjǫllna breathed raggedly, her chest pumping deeply as her mane lay mussed beneath her as a mantle.

“Well done... I expected… no less,” said Mjǫllna between pants with adoring eyes. She tenderly wrapped her hooves around the back of his neck as she spoke.

“I’m not… a hoofcarl… for nothing, Mjǫllna,” replied Drakkar as he recovered his breath.

On the other side, the fillies had watched the whole fight without even blinking.

“You know what?” said Scootaloo without looking at her friends. “I’m going to do that.”

“Do what?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“I’m going to challenge the colt who declares his love to me to a wrestling match.”

“What if you like ‘im and he doesn’t win?” inquired Apple Bloom.

“I’ll lose on purpose, I guess,” replied Scootaloo with a shrug. “I’ll think about it. I have time until I get my first Hearts and Hooves Day’s card.”

“Well,” said Drakkar as she helped Mjǫllna getting up from the floor. “Who wants to try?”

The three fillies stared in silence until a drop of water fell onto Sweetie Belle’s horn. As she tried to wipe it dry, Mjǫllna pointed to her.

“Wow, we have a volunteer!” she cried as she attempted to get her mane back to normal.

“What? No! I wasn’t… I don’t…” Sweetie Belle stepped back, shaking her head violently.

The sky brightened with a blinding flash of light, followed by a tremendous thunder that scared the fillies and Fluttershy. The animals began to run towards their lairs and warrens.

“We should get inside before the rain starts,” said Fluttershy as she rushed to the door. The fillies didn’t hesitate and galloped behind her, while Drakkar and Mjǫllna calmly followed them inside. As all the ponies got inside and Fluttershy closed the door, the sound of water against grass and stone began to sound louder. Scootaloo jumped over Apple Bloom to see that the rain had already started, and wasn’t going to end up any time soon.

“Well, that does it for today, I guess,” said Scootaloo with a sigh as she got off her friend. “That was radical though. A bit violent, but fun!”

“Yeah, those games were cool!” admitted Apple Bloom with a hop. “We should try new games tomorrow!”

“Hey, y’all know what we can do now? Tell ghost stories!”

“Yeah, that’ll be awesome! What do you say, Sweetie Belle?”

“Sure, it’ll be fun!” said Sweetie Belle. “Hey, Mister Drakkar, do you have ghost stories in your hometown?”

Drakkar nodded with a short smile as she looked at Mjǫllna. “Indeed we have. I know a few of them.”

“Well, um,” started Fluttershy with lowered ears. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me. I don’t like ghost stories.”

“Alright, I’ll go first!” cried Scootaloo, switching into a more sinister voice as Fluttershy walked slowly up the stairs to avoid disturbing the others. “This is the story of the skinless stallion, a monster which—”

“Oh, Scootaloo, I don’t like that story,” complained Sweetie Belle. “It’s only scary because the monster kills ponies.”

“That’s the point of a ghost story!” insisted Scootaloo.

“No, it isn’t! It’s supposed to be scary, but you can be scary without having to kill ponies!”

“Ah can tell the story of the Apple Harvester,” interjected Apple Bloom.

“Oh, not that one again!” complained Scootaloo with a huff.

“What? It’s mah favorite story!”

“Yeah, I know. You tell it every single year at Nightmare Night!”

“But Drakkar doesn’t know the story, and he might like it!”

“It’s not scary, Apple Bloom,” replied Scootaloo. “It’s a spirit that rewards nice ponies and punishes mean ones. That’s not a ghost story, that’s something your granny told you so you’d behave yourself.”

“Hey, it’s a pretty nice story!” cried Apple Bloom, slightly offended at her friend’s words.

“How about the story of Sea Shell?” inquired Sweetie Belle.

“Aw, not that one either,” huffed Scootaloo. “That’s a romantic story!”

“But it’s a ghost story!” repeated Sweetie Belle, upset.

“Yeah, about a pony who drowns and finds a way to meet her lover. That’s not scary, and therefore, is not a ghost story!”

Drakkar and Mjǫllna did their best to hold back their laughter at the scene. The three fillies kept quarreling about what story to tell, an argument that was taking longer than expected to solve. With a tender smile, Mjǫllna looked at Drakkar, softly laughing between his teeth. Both knew that the arguing fillies weren’t going to go further than complaining about their stories being considered not ghost-worthy enough. For a brief moment, due to the previous games that showed Drakkar as a caring parental figure, she pictured themselves with foals of their own.

“Okay, everypony calm down!” shouted Apple Bloom, putting the fillies’ argument to a halt and snapping Mjǫllna awake from her daydreaming. “If we can’t decide which story to tell, we’ll have our guest of honor tell his.” She looked at Drakkar with a wide grin. “What d’ya say? Which one will ya tell us?”

“I want to hear the most violent and scary story you have,” said Scootaloo, throwing a challenging gaze at the stallion. “Give us your best shot!”

With a burst of laughter, Drakkar shook his head, amused at the fillies. “Young ponies are the same everywhere I go. Alright, my best shot.” After a moment of pondering, a grim smirk crossed his face. “I have the perfect story for you, young daredevil: fjarðarins draugrinn.”

The fillies stared at him for a few seconds in complete silence. “Wow, the title’s pretty scary by itself,” admitted Sweetie Belle. “What does it mean?”

“It translates to something like ‘the ghost of the fjord’,” explained Drakkar. “Then again, a draugr is not exactly a ghost or a zombie. Truth be told, the translations don’t do justice to the creature.”

“So it’s a story about a ghost from a place, that’s something I’ve never heard before,” said Scootaloo sarcastically as she rolled her eyes. After a moment, she looked at her friends with a confused stare. “What’s a fjord, by the way?”

“It’s pretty much like the cliff we have here in Ponyville, but it’s made from the erosion caused by glaciers,” answered Mjǫllna. “There are a couple of them in Scandineighvia, a breathtaking sight indeed, or so my granny told me.” She looked at Drakkar with concern. “I think the story might be a bit too much, though.”

“Well,” said Scootaloo with a grin at the mare’s words. “We have a story!”

Drakkar cleared his throat before staring at the three fillies in front of him, and then looked through the window to see the rain fall. He tilted her head to Mjǫllna towards them, and she got behind them, resting her hooves on two of the fillies’ shoulders. With a sardonic grin, Drakkar began to tell the story with a deeper voice than usual.

“Fillies of Equestria, I come to you,
To tell a legend from a faraway land.
Hold your hooves, innocent little girls,
For a dire and cruel story is at hand.”

-o-

Applejack galloped across the town square as fast as her legs allowed her under the rain. Her Stetson hat protected most of her mane, but her hooves and the tip of her tail were tainted in mud. The deserted streets were more than welcomed in these situations and, luckily for her, Mjǫllna’s smithy was open to the public, but the one inside wasn’t the usual blacksmith.

“Oh, good evening, Applejack!” greeted Vínviðr joyfully.

“Howdy. Pardon me for not pausing to introduce mahself, but where’s Mjǫllna?” Applejack asked while using her hat to fan herself as she recovered her breath.

“I’m Vínviðr, Mjǫllna’s grandmother,” she said politely with a wrinkly smile. “Your order has been ready since midday.” With a slow path, she walked towards the shelf to grab the farming tool.

“Sorry, the harvest took longer than expected, and Ah thought Ah wouldn’t get here on time.” Applejack put her hat on and took a small bag from one of her saddlebags, pouring it on the table to let five bits roll out.

“My granddaughter’s always here, but I told her to go spend time with her coltfriend today now that she had finished all the orders,” said the old mare with a giggle. “I don’t mind waiting here for a while. It brings good memories to me.”

Applejack checked the fixed tool, a flawless repair that, if she hadn't known better, would've thought it was brand new. “This is one of the best fixes Ah’ve seen. Give yer granddaughter mah thanks for a job well done,” she added with a tip of her hat.

“I will, youngster. Give my regards to Granny Smith when you see her.” Vínviðr turned around and nodded gently at Applejack before walking to the door and inside her house. “And get home soon before you catch a cold.”

“Will do, Miss Vínviðr!” As Applejack was about to leave, she noticed somepony walking towards her from far away. The pompous purple saddle with an umbrella of the same color attached to it, as well as the large hat made her realize immediately who it was. “’Evening, Rarity.”

“Oh, Applejack, I didn’t expect you to be here!” said Rarity with a joyful smile.

“Ah came to pick up the head of our pitchfork,” she replied, tilting her head to the tool resting inside her saddlebags. “What are ya doin’ here, though?”

“Oh, you see, I returned to my boutique to keep working on my designs, and then I had a vision; my muse visited me and told me how I could get perfection!” Rarity’s words were followed by exaggerated gestures with her hooves. “I could attach two brooches instead of one and use them to hold a cape, which will give them much more class. And who says capes can’t also have, say, ornaments of any kinds that have chains attached, pocket watches, monocles, anything? It’ll be the most wonderful—” Rarity stopped as Applejack stared at her dumbfounded with a raised eyebrow. “I came to order more brooches from Mjǫllna,” said Rarity with a blush and a giggle.

“Well, she isn’t here now,” replied Applejack, thankful that Rarity had simplified why she was there. “Her granny told me she was spending time with her coltfriend.”

Rarity let out a disappointed huff. “Well, I guess I can make the order tomorrow. Anyways, I have to go pick up my sister; the weather’s getting worse. Did Apple Bloom tell you where they were going? Sweetie Belle simply told me they were going to try and get their cutie marks.” Rarity giggled for a moment before sighing with a bit of nostalgia. “Ah, foalhood, how I miss those years.”

“Now that ya mention it,” said Applejack as she tipped her chin, “they told me they were going to Fluttershy’s to meet a new friend she made. Scootaloo told her he looked like a pretty nice fella.”

“Oh, that’s cute, in that—” Rarity stopped talking, her jaw dropping as she seemed to have realized something and stared at Applejack with wide opened eyes. “Drakkar!”

“Whatcha talking about? And why are you so shocked all of a sudden?” inquired Applejack.

“Darling, our sisters are in grave danger!”

“Hold it right there!” Applejack raised a hoof as she raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Who’s this Drakkar and why are our sisters in danger? Hope this isn’t one of your overreactions.”

“You see, Drakkar’s a… how was it, Scandineighvian? Yes, that’s it. He’s fine and calm most of the time, but if you take off the pelt he’s wearing, he gets really angry!”

“Ah don’t think mah sister’s gonna get into trouble with that, and they’re also with Fluttershy, so she’ll explain that to them, right?” said Applejack in an attempt to calm her friend.

“How often do those fillies obey when we talk to them and they’re together?” insisted Rarity, grabbing Applejack’s cheeks and getting mere inches away from her. She breathed frantically, the fresh minted scent getting deep into Applejack’s nostrils. “We must save them!”

Without giving her friend time to react, Rarity galloped towards Fluttershy’s house, and Applejack followed suit, barely able to keep up to her friend. The mud puddles they stepped on splashed noisily, covering the close surroundings with moist earth. The empty town allowed them to reach the place faster than usual, and Rarity only stopped running when the screams of the fillies were overheard from the inside of Fluttershy’s house.

“And the draugr screamed in hatred and pain,” Drakkar’s voice cried loudly enough to be heard over the frightened girls’ yells.

“Sweetie Belle!” shouted Rarity in shock, quickly changing to a furious grunt. “That monster! Applejack, come on! We have to save our sisters!” she added before galloping towards the door.

“Y-yeah, sure!” Applejack stood in thought for a moment, with her ears perked up. “That sounded familiar,” she said in a low voice. “Ah know Ah’ve heard that line somewhere before, but…” She quickly shook her head and rushed to follow Rarity.

-o-

The Cutie Mark Crusaders had heard a lot of ghost stories, especially during Nightmare Night. Tales about the Diamond Dog under the bed or the boogiepony were quite popular, though only foals found those scary anymore. Apple Bloom’s favorite story was one that Granny Smith told her often: The story of The Apple Harvester, a spirit that helped the members of the Apple family who were nice and punished those who were mean. Other than that one, she enjoyed most ghost stories. Scootaloo tended to prefer more violent tales, with murderous creatures from other worlds. On the other end of the spectrum, Sweetie Belle loved ghost stories with happy endings, where the monster redeemed itself or was released from eternal unrest.

However, Drakkar’s story was different from everything they had heard before, and it took the fillies less than a few minutes before they had to hug each other. Be it for his narrating skills as a skáld, the story itself or a combination of both, the Cutie Mark Crusaders listened to him without moving from their terrified group hug. To further soothe them, Mjǫllna wrapped them with her front hooves while still paying attention to the story.

Most monsters had weaknesses that were usually exploited to defeat them or keep them at bay: garlic repelled vampire ponies, fairies were allergic to iron and ghost didn’t disturb you as long as you didn’t desecrate their resting places in any way. The draugr, however, was practically unstoppable, and there appeared to be next to nothing that could protect them from it.

Though at first the fillies expected it to be a typical story about zombies, as the draugr was a raised corpse, they found out that it was far from the usual ones. The monster was able to walk through earth as if it was thin air, and had the strength of a stampeding bison. With powers that allowed it to control the weather itself and summon armies of undead to do its bidding, the draugr was already in the top five of the scariest monsters the fillies had ever heard about. However, Drakkar’s story was far from over, and the monster had a few extra aces under its rotten sleeves. When needed, the draugr could change its size, becoming so large that even Celestia would look like a newborn filly in comparison. It also had shapeshifting powers, as Drakkar narrated during the story: the monster turned into a cat and lay down on its victim’s chest on his sleep, only to increase in size to suffocate him.

Whenever the draugr cried for revenge, storm clouds thundered, the horrifying echo of incoming doom for those who stood on its way. Nature seemed to conspire with Drakkar’s storytelling, for every time he spoke the monster’s lines with a guttural and horrifying growl, a peal of thunder accompanied him, making the tale much more shocking. Everything was a huge coincidence, but the young fillies, and even Mjǫllna, really found themselves thinking for a few moments that Drakkar could bend the weather to his will to help him tell the story.

“And Gjǫf ran to his house on the hill,
His strength hastily fading away.
He slammed the door closed behind him,
Blocking the monster from coming his way.
But the mighty daugrinn knew he was there,
Thus, his fate was written, that he could tell
As the creature shattered the door with a blow
And the name of its victim he came to yell!”

“Sweetie Belle!” cried Rarity as she blasted the door open, followed by a thunder outside.

The three fillies screamed in abject horror and jumped behind Drakkar, and Mjǫllna hopped on him, wrapping her front legs around his neck and her weight resting on his lap. As for him, the unexpected visit left him lacking breath for the shock that caused him to fall on his haunches.

“It’s the draugr!” shouted Sweetie Belle, hugging Drakkar’s back. “It’s come to get us!”

“No… it’s not the daugr, it’s just … it’s just Rarity,” said Drakkar slowly between inhales, noticing how the other four ponies clinging to him trembled. “By Tyr’s severed hoof, what’s wrong with you?!” he asked Rarity as he gestured with his hoof making circles next to his head.

“With me? You ask if something’s wrong with me? How dare you harm my little sister?” Rarity walked towards him, stomping noisily every step she took, making Drakkar lean back as she got in his face.

“But sister, Drakkar wasn’t—”

“Not now, Sweetie Belle, the grownups are talking,” interjected Rarity as calmly as her current anger allowed her before returning to her scolding. “You’re a horrible pony who takes advantage of innocent fillies to hurt her older sister! A brutish ruffian with crude attire, not worthy of the lowest class imaginable! A—”

“Rarity, listen to me! We were just—” tried to say Sweetie Belle, but Rarity raised her hoof without looking at her.

“Rarity, please calm down!” exclaimed Mjǫllna as she removed herself from Drakkar’s embrace and stepped between both ponies.

“Take care of the fillies,” said Drakkar, looking over Mjǫllna’s shoulder to check the girls behind them. The sound of hooves against the stones in the path outside the house called his attention and tried to walk past Rarity to see who was coming.

“Pay attention to me, you… you savage!” yelled Rarity as she pushed Drakkar with her hoof.

Drakkar stared at Rarity with a shocked expression for a moment, only to change slowly to a frown.

“We were telling ghost stories!” cried Sweetie Belle as fast as she could to avoid getting interrupted again.

Rarity turned to her sister, pointing at her with her hoof and keeping the angry tone this time. “Sweetie Belle, I told you not to—” It look a moment for Sweetie Belle’s sentence to sink in, but when it did, Rarity’s courage and anger changed in the blink of an eye to confusion. “W-what did you just say? Ghost stories?”

“Yeah, that’s why we were screaming,” replied Sweetie Belle.

“Yeah, he’s really good at telling scary stories,” seconded Scootaloo with a nod.

“Uh, girls? Ah don’t like the look on Drakkar’s face,” said Apple Bloom while pointing at the stallion.

As Drakkar’s horn shone fiercely, he let out a guttural, bear-like growl that made Rarity shrink and cower. Her ears fell down and she shook at the imposing sight in front of her. For every step forward Drakkar took, Rarity walked back two.

“I-I-I’m terribly sorry!” said Rarity as she shrank when she reached the wall. “I-I was worried about my sister!”

“I refuse to accept your apologies this time,” replied Drakkar through his gritted teeth.

“Drakkar, bíð!” shouted Mjǫllna, resting a hoof on his chest. At that moment, Applejack got to the front door, only to raise an eyebrow in confusion at whatever was going on. “Eigi gjør þat!”

Drakkar turned to see Mjǫllna, who was still breathing raggedly after the fright. “Ek heiða villan hjá henni,” replied Drakkar, tilting his head at Rarity.

“Ek veit. Rarity, get behind me!” ordered Mjǫllna. Rarity obliged without a second thought, galloping behind her. When Drakkar was about to follow Rarity, Mjǫllna stood between them, keeping eye contact with him, a defying stare that shocked him.

“Hvi verndar þú hanna?” asked Drakkar, his anger getting overwhelmed by the surprise of the moment.

“Af þeim,” replied Mjǫllna, pointing at the three fillies next to them.

Drakkar turned to see the Cutie Mark Crusaders staring at him with frightened eyes, making his heart sink. When he looked back at Mjǫllna, her challenging eyes slowly changed to pleading ones.

“Ek bað þík,” begged Mjǫllna tenderly, resting her hoof on his shoulder. “Þú ert eigi sem þenna.”

With a long huff, Drakkar looked at the doorway. “Ek vil fara.”

Mjǫllna stepped aside, letting Drakkar trot away and leave Fluttershy’s house. She stood motionless for a while, her head lowered in regret. As soon as Drakkar left the place, Rarity slowly got up, rubbing the dust out of her fur.

“Can somepony please explain what in tarnation just happened?” asked Applejack, scratching her head in confusion under her Stetson hat.

“Wow, Mjǫllna, you’re amazing!” cheered Scootaloo with a grin, only to have it slowly fade away as Mjǫllna didn’t move from her position.

“Applejack, we’ve spent the day playing Scandineighvian games with Drakkar,” explained Apple Bloom. “And when it started to rain, we came here and told ghost stories.”

“And now we won’t know how the story about the ghost of the fjord ends,” complained Sweetie Belle before turning to her sister.

Applejack hit her head with a hoof. “Of course! Now Ah remember!”

“Remember what, Applejack?” asked Apple Bloom.

“Ah heard Drakkar shout something when you screamed, and Ah was sure Ah had heard it before, but wasn’t sure where or when,” she explained. “Granny Smith told us that when she was a filly, during the founding of Ponyville, a mare in armor came to the town. She was pregnant and spoke basic Equestrian with a strong accent. Ponyville welcomed her here and helped her raise her filly. In return, she taught us things about her former land and told us stories about them. Granny Smith told us some parts of the story when Big Mac ‘n Ah were younger.” Applejack shrugged with a weak smile, and noticed how Mjǫllna paid attention to every word she said. “But she always told us that she couldn’t tell the story as that mare did, because she chanted the tale as if it was a poem, with rhyming and all.”

“Yeah, I noticed the rhymes in the story,” said Sweetie Belle with a wide grin. “It was amazing!”

“It might be the same story, then,” replied Applejack with a nod.

Sweetie Belle turned to her now confused sister, who was turning to stare at everypony who spoke, looking like an spectator in a tennis match. “Rarity, why did you storm inside in such a state anyway?”

“I-I thought you were in trouble,” stuttered Rarity, still nervous after the incident.

“But the day was completely awesome until you came here and began insulting him,” replied Scootaloo with a shrug. “During the whole time, he watched over us playing, making sure we didn’t get hurt.”

“Ah think we should go home now,” said Apple Bloom to her sister. There was a odd feeling in the house, as if something was about to happen. Mjǫllna still stood motionless on the spot, but she seemed to be holding back. “That story was longer than Ah thought, and it’s a bit late. Scootaloo, you want Applejack and Ah to take you home?” offered Apple Bloom.

“Yeah, thanks.” Scootaloo’s ears perked up at the sound of a loud roar, far away from them. “What’s that?”

As it resounded through the forest, Mjǫllna turned her head quickly towards the window and galloped to it. Resting her hoof on the wooden wall, she stared with sorrowful eyes through it. Under one of the trees, Drakkar’s horn shone brightly in the slight darkness as his cries of anger and sorrow turned into bear roars. “Drakkar,” whispered Mjǫllna with her forehead resting on the windowsill.

“Miss Mjǫllna,” called Sweetie Belle, slowly approaching the mare. “Is Drakkar going to be okay?”

The young filly’s deeply concerned voice made Mjǫllna smile tenderly. Turning to look at her, she caressed her forehead. “I’ll talk to him, I’m sure he’ll be fine. He just needs some time to calm down.” She turned to meet Rarity, and the fury in Mjǫllna’s eyes made her back up. “As for you, Rarity, you’ll have to look for a new blacksmith to craft your brooches. I refuse to take a single order from you again.”

Rarity’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened. “B-b-but Mjǫllna, I need the brooches for my dresses! I have to finish my designs before the Grand Galloping Gala! I simply need those brooches!”

“That’s not my problem anymore,” said Mjǫllna with a frown. “We Scandineighvians are proud ponies with a rich and ancient culture. We are not savages!” Rarity’s ears drooped as Mjǫllna scolded her, getting angrier as she kept shouting “We have centuries old traditions of poets who sing the tales of warriors who fight to defend our lands and bring honor to their families, ancestors and descendants! Just because we’re different from whatever you do or wear, does that mean we’re not to be trusted? In that case, we’re done!” With those words, and a quick nod towards Applejack, she left Fluttershy’s house at a slow trot.

“Applejack,” called Rarity from her spot. “Can you take Sweetie Belle home for me? I’m not feeling well right now, and the fact that I have to look for another blacksmith isn’t helping.”

“Sure, sugarcube,” said Applejack as she grabbed her hat and pressed it against her chest.

Fluttershy, who had stayed hidden in the upper floor horrified at the scene, slowly walked down the stairs. “I’m sorry, Rarity. I was too scared, and he looked so huge.”

“No, it’s okay, Fluttershy. It’s my fault.” Rarity turned to look at Fluttershy with a forced smile, then threw herself heavily on the couch with her eyes focused on Applejack. “I’ll go to see Twilight tomorrow. She’s been to Canterlot, I’m sure she knows a smithy I can make orders to.”

“Good idea,” said Applejack with a nod as she put her hat back on. “Ah’ll tell mah cousin Braeburn at Appleoosa, they may have somepony there too.”

“Thank you, Applejack. I’m going to stay here for a while, if that’s okay with you, Fluttershy.”

“Oh, certainly,” said Fluttershy. “You can even spend the night here if you want to. Drakkar sleeps outside anyways.”

“No,” replied Rarity with a defeated voice as she sat up on the couch. “If he’s staying here, I don’t think I should be here.”

“Would you like a cup of tea to calm down?” offered Fluttershy.

“That’d be lovely, darling, thanks.”

-o-

It didn’t take long for Mjǫllna to find Drakkar, for he hadn’t moved from the place she spotted him while looking through the window. The stallion had his head resting against a tree trunk and his left hoof lifted mud as he kicked the ground.

“Drakkar?” said Mjǫllna from behind him, keeping a tender voice. “It’s okay.”

“She called me brutish, crude,” growled Drakkar without turning back at her. “Savage.” He spoke the last word with a guttural remark.

“You aren’t any of those things, Drakkar.” She took a step forward, trying not to make noise. “Rarity speaks due to her ignorance. Though it is true that you reacted violently in front of her, but—”

“She came to the smithy to apologize,” interjected Drakkar with a huff. “We had supposedly made up after that.”

“She doesn’t know you, Drakkar. She hasn’t seen you playing with your pet Gullin, nor how your eyes brighten when you speak of the frozen land of Scandineighvia.” She took another step closer. “She hasn’t enjoyed an evening at Sugarcube Corner, having a milkshake with you,” she added playfully. When she heard Drakkar snorting at her last comment, she smiled in relief. “I know you, and I can assure you that you’re not brutish, crude or even savage.”

Drakkar kept silent for a moment before speaking again. “You have great confidence in your words.”

“Because you and I are Scandineighvians at heart,” replied Mjǫllna as she took another step forward and rested her hoof on his shoulder. “If you’re a savage, that makes me a savage too.”

“You’re not a savage!” When Drakkar turned around to look at her, his muzzle was mere inches away from hers.

“Then neither are you, Hoofcarl Drakkar,” she insisted with an approving nod.

Drakkar looked away from her, shaking his head slowly. “I still don’t feel comfortable with this.”

“I’m not asking you to forgive her now,” said Mjǫllna, pulling up his face to look at him in the eyes. “Give her time. I talked to her before coming for you. She knows she’s made a mistake.”

“What about the other mare?” asked Drakkar, his voice recovering his neutral tone little by little.

“I guess you mean Apple Bloom’s sister, Applejack.” He nodded as much as Mjǫllna’s hoof allowed him. “She didn’t know you at all, so she was worried about her sister.”

“I understand that,” said Drakkar, tilting his head. ”I have a sister myself, though she’s older than me.”

“Applejack had heard Rarity’s version, and now she also knows the fillies’. I don’t consider it appropriate for you to you judge her because she was biased due to Rarity’s stories. However, I’d recommend you try to tone it down a bit next time we hang around with the fillies.”

Drakkar snorted softly at her comment. “The games or the ghost stories?”

“I’d go with both just in case,” she replied with a wink. “Ponies here aren’t used to the rugged competitions and playing we have in Scandineighvia.”

“They handled themselves well for being inexperienced at those games,” said Drakkar with a tilt of his head. “But I’ll tone it down next time.”

Mjǫllna nodded with a grin as Drakkar returned to his normal self again. ”Come on, the rain almost stopped, and my mom and granny would surely be wondering where I am.”

-o-

Save for both ponies discussing the events involving the day with the Cutie Mark Crusaders, the walk to Mjǫllna’s home was uneventful. The streets were devoid of ponies because of the rain, even though it had stopped a while ago. Small, muddy puddles had formed in the streets. Most establishments, due to it being so late, were already closed and some of the inhabitants who had to wake up earlier than the rest had already gone to sleep. Soon, they arrived at Mjǫllna’s house, resting for a moment at the door.

“Well, that was a long day,” said Mjǫllna playfully as she rested sideways on her door. “You can come tomorrow a bit later if you want, considering that I have no orders left.”

“About that,” interjected Drakkar, “are you sure this is a good idea? If Rarity’s one of your best customers, banning her from making orders is really counterproductive.”

“I’ll find another way, don’t worry about it. Our Scandineighvian pride goes before everything else,” she added with a wink.

“Speaking as a soldier, I have to agree with you, but this is a different matter.” Drakkar shook his head slightly with his ears lowered. “You might starve if you don’t find enough customers to compensate Rarity’s loss.”

“I really appreciate your concern, Drakkar, but I’ve always been able to survive no matter how few orders I got.” After Mjǫllna’s statement came an awkward silence where neither of them moved from there. “Well, I guess I’ll get inside,” she finally said, turning around to open the door.

Drakkar’s eyes widened as he seemed to have remembered something. “No, wait!” he cried, raising his hoof.

Mjǫllna cried a silent ‘yes!’ before turning around, trying her best not to look anxious. “Yes, Drakkar? What is it?”

“I… I’ve been working on something for you. With the Cutie Mark Crusaders around I didn’t have time,” he said as he looked aside bashfully, scratching his head under his long mane, “and after the incident with Rarity, I almost forgot about it, but I just remembered.”

Mjǫllna look at him with a raised eyebrow, nodding gently. “Alright, I’m listening.”

Drakkar slowly cleared his throat before taking a step forward, getting closer to her, which made her put her haunch against the door. Being so close and alone for a change, and with certainty about what was going to happen, a snicker slipped through Mjǫllna’s lips. Though she closed her eyes expecting a kiss, Drakkar spoke in their mother language.

“Múspells eldarnir sem
Jǫkull kenna næstr til
Míns hjarta er ek sé
Þik, frið sem Frejya, ok
Með hári sem Sifar.
Segj Þú mik elskr, ok ek
Mun Valhǫll eigi leit.
Samam munnum erum.”

Drakkar finished the poem with a broad smile, and was received by a speechless Mjǫllna. His joy slowly faded away as she stood there without moving even a muscle. If not for her chest going up and down, she could’ve been mistaken for a statue. However, after a moment, her face began to change to an intense red.

“Drakkar…” she was able to say at last.

Before she could finish the sentence a light from inside the house switched on, and Granny Vínviðr called in a low voice. “Mjǫllna, is that you?”

With an exasperated huff, Drakkar raised his front hooves in anger. “By Sif’s golden mane, why can’t we have some peaceful time together without somepony ruining it?”

“Oh, no, not this time!” replied Mjǫllna. Without a giving him a chance to react, she grabbed Drakkar’s cheeks and pulled him towards her, giving him a passionate kiss. Once Drakkar was able to realize what was happening, he joyfully closed his eyes and grabbed Mjǫllna by the waist, and then stood on his hind legs while lifting her from the ground. With a surprised giggle that broke the first kiss, Mjǫllna let his cheeks go and threw her forehooves around his neck, slipping them beneath his mane, tenderly biting his lower lip and wrapping her tail around his waist as though it were a belt.

The window’s house opened and Vínviðr gasped at the scene, covering her mouth with a hoof. When Mjǫllna noticed, she tapped Drakkar’s lips with the tip of her hoof before turning at the door.

“Granny Vínviðr, this is Drakkar,” she said hastily as Drakkar nodded with her hoof still on his lips. “Drakkar, this is my grandmother Vínviðr.” She stretched her front leg to reach the window. “We’re a bit busy right now and would appreciate some privacy. We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise.” Without letting her grandmother react aside from a surprised nod, Mjǫllna closed the window with a loud thud, and then turned back to Drakkar with lavish eyes. “Now, back to what we were doing.” In the blink of an eye, Mjǫllna pushed herself towards Drakkar with such passion that he lost his balance and fell on his back, yet neither cared about it. Both were entangled in each other’s legs, and the deep kiss that had locked them together lasted for as long as their breath allowed them to.

Mjǫllna slowly separated her lips from Drakkar’s, the tip of her hoof gently caressing his strong chest. “This compensates for that one that Scootaloo ruined for us. And there’s much more where that came from.” She got up and stood over him while he gazed at her with a wide grin and ragged breathing. As she spoke, she turned around, and caressed his body with the tip of her tail while walking towards the door. “We’ll continue tomorrow. And don’t worry, we will find privacy. I’ll make sure of it.”

Author's Notes:

Here you have the translations of the dialogue between Mjǫllna and Drakkar
-"Drakkar, wait! Don't do it!"
-"She called me savage"
-"I know."
-"Why do you protect her?"
-"For them."
-"I beg you. You're not like this."
-"I want to go."

As for the poem, here you have the translated version:

The fires of Muspellheim like
a glacier feel next to
my heart when I see
you, beautiful like Freya and
with hair like Sif’s. Say
you love me and I won’t
seek Valhǫll.
We will be together

Drykksfjandhestar

Drykksfjandhestar (Drinking rivals)

The next morning, after having breakfast, Mjǫllna went to the smithy with a small notebook and a quill. Making numbers to make sure that she was going to be able to keep bringing bits home even without Rarity’s orders had become one of her top priorities. Though she appreciate that Vínviðr and Drakkar were worried about it, she refused to forgive her for what she had done. However, that left her in a dire situation, for other cities already had blacksmiths, and even if she started crafting metal ornaments, chances were that she’d have a hard time selling them.

As she worked her way to sort out a solution for her financial problems, Vínviðr got out of the house and into the smithy. She was showing a wide, shining beam as she got closer to Mjǫllna.

“So,” she started, getting to her granddaughter’s side. “That was Drakkar, right?”

Mjǫllna closed her notebook, smiling back at Vínviðr. “Yes, that was him. Sorry for being so—”

“Oh, no need to apologize, honey,” she interjected with a laugh as she raised her hoof to interrupt her. “I just wanted to know if it was him. A nice exemplar you got there,” she added with a wink.

Mjǫllna giggled, putting the notebook away. “Indeed he is. He must be on his way here.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave you two here. Now that you don’t have Rarity’s orders, you have enough extra time to spend with him,” she said with a grin that showed only half a dozen teeth spread through the whole mouth.

“Yeah, about that.” Mjǫllna’s joy faded slowly, turning to look at the notebook. “I don’t think it’s been a good idea.” As she opened her eyes widely, she turned to her grandmother. “How do you know about that, anyway?”

“You have a bad habit of thinking in a loud voice,” replied Vínviðr, to which Mjǫllna blushed and looked away with a sorrowful grimace. She rested her hook on her granddaughter’s shoulder, slightly shaking it. “Come on, dear, don’t be so hard on yourself. Ponyville has never been a very active city for us blacksmiths. We’ve survived despite our lack of customers since Gleipna came and settled here.”

“I know, granny, but that doesn’t make me feel better. I had a great customer, and—”

“And she called Drakkar a savage,” interrupted Vínviðr. “We are proud ponies, and pride is both good and bad. If I had been there instead of you, I would’ve reacted in the same way as you did.”

“Please, granny,” said Mjǫllna, resting her hooves on Vínviðr’s shoulders as she stared at her with pleading eyes, “don’t tell mother about this. The last thing I need is her throwing tantrums at Drakkar for ruining our business.”

“Mjǫllna, you don’t even need to tell me that,” comforted Vínviðr, caressing her hoof. “I’ll tell you what; craft the brooches for Rarity, but keep them hidden until you feel like she’s earned your forgiveness.”

“It’s not that simple, granny. She needs them for a slideshow. If she doesn’t get them on time, she won’t buy them!” explained Mjǫllna. She grabbed her head, pressing it as she grunted between her gritted teeth. “Why do I have to be so proud?”

“It’s in our nature, my dear,” replied Vínviðr, tenderly wrapping her granddaughter with her front leg. “But trust me; she’ll buy them from you.”

“Why are you so sure about that?”

“Because, if she really needs them, she’ll look for ways to get them. She’ll come to me, and I’ll show her the way,” she replied with congenial smile as she caressed her granddaughter’s head. “Is that okay with you?”

Mjǫllna looked at her through the corner of the eye, and slowly nodded. “Thank you, granny.”

“You might be proud enough to defend your own kin,” she said with an approving beam, “but not enough to refuse help from us. Keep that balance, my dear.” Vínviðr turned to check the street in front of them, and noticed a familiar stallion walking towards them. “Well, he’s right there,” she said with a chuckle. “I’ll leave you two alone. And remember,” she added as she reached the door, resting the hoof on it but not pushing it open. “Craft the brooches.”

“Okay, granny. Thanks for everything.” As Vínviðr got inside the house, Mjǫllna waved at Drakkar before trotting to his encounter. With a pounce, she hung to his neck, kissing him as he got up on his hind legs and embraced her. From that height, her hooves barely touched the ground. After a while, Mjǫllna let herself fall back, separating her lips from his.

“That’s the best way to say góðr morginn I’ve ever had the pleasure of getting,” said Drakkar with a delighted grin.

“I know, right?” she replied with a giggle. As Drakkar released her from his hug, Mjǫllna trotted inside the smithy, followed closely by him. “We’re going to have a very relaxing day today.”

“No orders?”

“Not even one. I haven’t even lighted up the forge yet.” With a sudden hop, she stood on the anvil, sitting on it as she shook her head to make her mane wave around her. “Which mean more time for us,” she added with an inviting voice.

“Isn’t that a bit cold for you to sit on?” asked Drakkar with a raised eyebrow.

“You can do something about that, right?” said Mjǫllna, letting her mane cover the right half of her face as she gestured with her hoof for Drakkar to come closer.

Without a second thought, and with lavish eyes, Drakkar walked his way to Mjǫllna, who shook her head to whip him with her mane. She slowly let herself fall back until her whole body rested on the anvil, pulling Drakkar by his ears. To avoid squishing her, he rested his weight on his right front hoof, leaning on the cold metal that contrasted to extremes with the warmth of Mjǫllna’s lips as they fused together in another kiss.

“Hey, save something for the honeymoon, you two!” jokingly cried voice from above.

Drakkar’s ears perked up as he tenderly moved away from Mjǫllna. “I recognize that voice,” he said in a low voice before looking up with a defying grin. “Show yourself, Bifrǫst!”

In a flash, as Drakkar had guessed, Rainbow Dash dived at high speed, stopping a few feet before the ground, creating a wave of dust and pebbles starting where she was about to land that spread through the whole place. “Sorry for that, but I didn’t expect to see you here, big guy!”

“What a surprise, Dash!” said Mjǫllna with a low, barely noticeable grunt as she showed a feigned smile. Her reaction didn’t go unnoticed for Drakkar, who was also beginning to get irritated at the constant interruptions. However, Mjǫllna’s smile became sincere when a thought came to mind. “Are you here to make an order?”

“Not for now, though I must admit that those wing-weights you made work wonders! I feel like I can create tornados with my wingpower!” She flapped her wings hastily, taking off a few feet from the ground as a small whirl of dust surged in front of her. The gust dissipated almost instantly, much to Rainbow Dash’s contempt. “Okay, that was a bit lame, but you get my point! I’ve mentioned them to some of the buddies I made at the Wonderbolt Academy, and some of them might order a set for themselves too!”

“My iron is at their service!” announced Mjǫllna proudly as she hit her chest. When Rainbow Dash turned to talk to Drakkar, she let out a relieved sigh, happy to know that money might not be such a problem after all.

“I feel invincible!” cried Rainbow Dash, extending her wings at their maximum wingspan. “I bet I could beat anypony at anything!” She threw a challenging gaze at Drakkar as she showed a confident smile. “What do you say, Drakkar? Think you have what it takes to beat an Equestrian mare?”

“Speed is far from my special asset,” said Drakkar with a frown. “And I can’t fly either.”

“I’m good at much more than just those things!” boasted Rainbow Dash, crossing her front legs in front of her chest. “I’m sure that I could beat you at any competition, even those from your hometown!”

“That’s a courageous challenge you’re throwing there, Bifrǫst.” Drakkar looked up, trying to come up with contests he knew from Scandineighvia. His mouth curved into a sardonic smile as he remembered one of his favorite pastimes. “There is one, but it might not be for you.”

“Don’t be so lame! Even if it’s the thing you’re best at, I have chances to beat you!” insisted Rainbow Dash. “Unless you’re a chicken, of course.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he replied, letting out a contempt grunt, doing his best to control his anger at Rainbow Dash’s taunt. “But I have to admit that you have guts to challenge a Scandineighvian pony in their own games.” After nodding in approval and turning to Mjǫllna, smiling broadly at her, he turned back at Rainbow Dash. “Very well, then. I challenge you to a Scandineighvian drinking game.”

Rainbow Dash’s jaw dropped at the announcement. “A drinking game?” she repeated, still unable to believe her ears. “That’s awesome! I know that Applejack might have a keg or two left from the last cider season! What else do I need aside from the cider?”

“The tradition states that you need a companion to serve you the drinks,” explained Drakkar. Then again, there’s one thing—”

“That’s it? Just a pony to serve the cider? Alright! You’re gonna bite the dust, big guy!” cried Rainbow Dash as she extended her wings, taking a challenging stance. “Nopony likes cider more than I do! I’m gonna go and make sure everything’s ready! See you there at midday!” With those words, she took off towards Sweet Apple Acres at a blinding speed.

“Bifrǫst, wait!” cried Drakkar before getting hit by the dust cloud Rainbow Dash had created with her take off. As he coughed and rubbed his eyes, he looked back at Mjǫllna, who was sitting on the anvil. “Well, there goes our day together.”

“Well, I can be your companion if you want to,” she replied with a wink.

“I wouldn’t like anypony else,” he said with a laugh. He looked back at Sweet Apple Acres, nodding at the idea. “This is going to be interesting.”

“It’s still around ten in the morning, though Sweet Apple Acres is a bit far from here,” said Mjǫllna, hopping off the anvil. “Come on, we’re not keeping Dash waiting. I really want to see where this will go,” she added with a grin. “Wait for me here, though. I want to make this special.”

“What do you have in mind?” asked Drakkar with a raised eyebrow.

“My granny and I use drinking horns that my great-grandmother brought with her,” she explained, giggling as she saw Drakkar slowly showing a broad grin. “I’m sure they won’t mind if I take them and, by the looks of you, you’ll love having one of those during the contest.”

“That would be great!” cried Drakkar, jumping towards Mjǫllna and wrapping his front hooves around her in a tight embrace.

Mjǫllna stared at him with a smirk, playfully taunting him. “Is that all? By Freyja’s necklace, we’re dating!” Without letting him react, she leaned forward and kissed him, feeling how his strong legs tightened around her. Pleased by this, she slowly lowered her head, softly biting his lower lip as their muzzles rubbed against each other. Mjǫllna pulled herself back, winking at Drakkar with lavish eyes. “That’s how you show how grateful you are,” she added, playfully wiggling her tail. “Now, if you let me down, I’ll go get the horns so we can leave.”

-o-

The trip to Sweet Apple Acres was mostly uneventful, though the streets were more crowded than usual today. Being still early, both ponies went window shopping, checking the goods salesponies had available at the market. While some necklaces and trinkets called Mjǫllna’s attention, Drakkar seemed out of place. No matter how hard she tried to find something that actually made him consider getting something, he couldn’t find anything he considered worth the time. Mjǫllna told him that, one day, they’d go to a different town, probably Appleoosa, to try their luck to find something that Drakkar might like.

When Drakkar and Mjǫllna arrived at Sweet Apple Acres, they were met by Applejack preparing a table with other two ponies. An imposing red stallion was carrying a middle-size keg, and a small filly they recognized as Apple Bloom was setting the chairs. Of the three ponies, she was the one who recognized them the first, waving and hopping as she spotted the couple.

“Mister Drakkar, Miss Mjǫllna!” called Apple Bloom from her place.

“Hi, Apple Bloom!” replied Mjǫllna, waving back at her. Next to her, Drakkar greeted silently with a salute before both ponies changed to a hasty trot.

Applejack tipped his hat gently at the newly arrived. “Howdy, partners. Rainbow Dash told us about this bet of yours.”

Drakkar stared at her with a raised eyebrow. “Bet? What are you talking about?”

“Well, Ah wasn’t giving ‘er the a cider keg just because, so she said that it was actually a bet; whoever loses, pays for what both of you drank.”

Blinking in disbelief as his face twitched into a horrified semblance, Drakkar’s voice trembled. “Did… did she really say so?”

“Eeeyup,” said the large stallion.

“Oh, right, you don’t know him,” said Apple Bloom. “Brother, this is Mister Drakkar. Drakkar, this is my older brother, Big Macintosh.”

Though he was still trying to understand what was going on, Apple Bloom’s words called his attention. For the first time since he arrived, he was able to look at a pony in the eyes without having to lower his head. Drakkar nodded respectfully at him with a short smile, to which Big Macintosh replied by returning the gesture, both remaining silent the whole time.

“Well, looks like Big Mac just found a friend who shares his shortness of words,” said Applejack, beaming gleefully.

“Drakkar might have a lot of things in common with Big Macintosh,” added Mjǫllna playfully, “but being short of words isn’t one of them.” Her face changed slowly from her comfortable visage to one showing a mixture of concern and confusion. “But is it true what Rainbow Dash said? That this is actually a bet? Because that’s the first thing I know about it, and I was with Drakkar the whole time.”

“I don’t really want to be in debt with the whole town,” grunted Drakkar.

“Oh, it’s okay,” consoled Mjǫllna as she put the two drinking horns on the table. “I’m sure you’ll win. Remember that she didn’t let you explain how this game really was. She doesn’t know what she got into.”

“Whatcha talkin’ about?” inquired Applejack, sounding worried. “Is Dash gonna be okay?”

“You’re a friend of hers, right?” asked Drakkar.

“Yup,” she replied with a quick nod.

“So you know about her.”

“Ah guess you could say that.” Applejack stared suspiciously at the giant unicorn. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,“ replied Drakkar, slowly getting closer to her and whispering to her ear. “Is she a good poet, by any chance?”

Applejack did her best to avoid bursting into loud laughter, but it was obvious for everypony that she was forcing herself into seriousness until she finally couldn’t hold back anymore. “Rainbow Dash, a poet? That’s one of the best things Ah’ve ever heard! If she ever writes a decent poem Ah’ll eat mah Stetson. Concerning acrobatics, now that’s something she’s really good at.”

“In that case,” said Drakkar with a short relieved huff, “this game might not last too long.”

“What do ya mean?” asked Applejack, tilting her head.

“You’ll find out.” Drakkar sounded relaxed again, taking his seat and admiring the crafting of the drinking horn.

It didn’t took Rainbow Dash long to return at great speed, followed closely by Scootaloo riding her scooter. Mjǫllna took her seat between Drakkar and their keg while Rainbow Dash performed a double back flip before slowly hovering and sitting on her chair. Scootaloo, on the other hoof, took a less risky performance due to her vehicle, and just braked harshly, lifting bits of dust that splattered across the road before taking her seat next to Rainbow Dash.

“What were you doing, Dash?” asked Applejack.

“I was telling everypony what was going to happen here!” she said proudly, stretching her wings. “I’m gonna defeat a Scandineighvian stallion in a drinking game!” She then turned to Drakkar with a challenging grin. “Nopony loves cider more than me! Let’s get this started already!”

“Before we start,” interjected Drakkar, tapping the table with the drinking horn Mjǫllna offered him, “I’ll explain the rules.”

“Really? It’s a drinking game, for Pete’s sake!” complained Rainbow Dash as she flapped her wings hastily. “I just have to outdrink you; it’s not that hard to understand! Now, pour me some good cider here!”

“Drinking is only half the game,” replied Drakkar as he raised the horn. “After gulping the cider, you must compose a poetry verse and recite it out loud.”

“What?!” Rainbow Dash stared at him with her eyes wide open, a reaction that, save for Mjǫllna, everypony attending the event followed. “You never told me about this part!”

“I remind you left the smithy without letting me explain,” scolded Drakkar with a snarky grimace.

“Oh, right,” said Rainbow Dash with a low snicker as she looked away shyly and her ears drooped.

“Anyway, it’s nothing too demanding; just a small verse either boasting about your own skills and actions or mocking the other’s.” He raised an eyebrow as Rainbow Dash grew a smile that slowly turned into an excited grin. “By the looks of you, I think you start to like the idea.”

“Are you kiddin’? Drinking cider and talking about my awesome feats at the same time? This game was made for me!”

“You have to keep your verses coherent despite the drinking; that’s the fun part,” he added with a snort. “If you’re ready, we can start whenever you say so.”

“I’m ready!”

“Well, this is something Ah wouldn’t believe if they told me,” said Applejack with a raised eyebrow. “Let’s see where this goes.”

“I’ll start,” announced Drakkar as he offered the drinking horn to Mjǫllna with a concerned expression. “You know how this goes. I didn’t mean to drag you here.”

“I don’t mind serving your drinks, and this promises to be an unforgettable afternoon!” replied Mjǫllna, laughing it off. Without hesitation, she filled Drakkar’s horn with cider and gave it back to him. “Let’s see that skaldic poetry in action!” she added with a wink.

Drakkar raised the drinking horn and toasted silently to Mjǫllna before gulping the cider in the blink of an eye. Once he was done, he turned to the keg and nodded, surprised at such taste. “Not bad at all. It’s not our Scandineighvian mead, but it’s still an outstanding beverage!”

“Finest quality drink for y’all,” replied Applejack, tipping her hat at Drakkar’s compliment.

“Alright, my verse.” He turned back to Rainbow Dash, throwing a taunting smirk to her as he chanted. “With my hooves, strong as the mightiest tree, I defeat my foes in groups of three.” With a challenging beam, he raised his horn to Rainbow Dash. “Your turn.”

“Come on, Dash, give him all you have!” cheered Scootaloo as she filled the drinking horn for her.

“Alright, let’s do this!” Rainbow Dash grabbed the horn and drank the content, delighting herself as the cider flooded her mouth and slipped down her throat. “Aw, yeah, I love this!” She slowly cleared her throat, and then looked up with a thoughtful grimace with her front legs crossed on her chest. After a moment, she shrugged and leaned forward, hitting her shoulder with the horn’s base. “Roses are red, violets are blue; I’m really awesome, much more than you!”

Drakkar and Mjǫllna stared at each other for a moment, and then back at Rainbow Dash, who was also victim of Scootaloo’s dumbfounded look. “That’s… something, alright,” he admitted with a confused look as Mjǫllna refilled the horn. “At least you get the hang of rhyming. I’m assuming you’re warming up, though.” Finishing his just refilled drink in a moment, he spoke his verse. “My physical strength resembles that of a divine gift, and the heaviest rocks without effort I can lift!”

“Yeah, we got that you’re strong, no need to insist on that,” huffed Rainbow Dash as she rolled her eyes. “Come on, Scoots, let’s show him how it’s done!”

“There’s no rule against boasting about the same ability,” replied Drakkar as Mjǫllna took his drinking horn and filled it again.

“Alright, I’ll show you!” Rainbow Dash took the already filled horn from Scootaloo, and drank it before throwing her rhyme, her lips dripping drops of cider on the table. “Swift and fast, there in a dash. It’s me, the amazing Rainbow Dash!”

Mjǫllna blinked in astound for a second as she offered Drakkar the horn. “You can’t rhyme ‘dash’ with ‘Dash’!” she complained with a grunt. “That’s lazy!”

“This is your last chance,” warned Drakkar as he began to spin playfully the small container with his hoof. “If you don’t compose a decent verse, you’re disqualified.”

“Come on, Dash, you can do it!” cheered Scootaloo as she filled Rainbow Dash’s horn.

“Are you sure she’ll do it better this time?” whispered Mjǫllna.

“Maybe a different approach will make her react,” replied Drakkar in the same low register with a confident grin hidden behind his horn. “If not, at least she’d only have to pay for a few drinks, so we’ll all win if she fails.” After gulping the cider, he pounded the table with his free hoof before speaking. “If your speed matched the rhyming skills you displayed now, you would be as fast as a legless cow!”

Mjǫllna openly laughed at the taunt, and the Apple siblings did their best to hold their giggling at the mental image. However, Scootaloo was far from laughing, and Rainbow Dash sat motionless, staring at Drakkar, who stared back at her with a defying grin.

“That was mean!” cried Scootaloo before turning to Rainbow Dash. “Dash, you’re not a legless cow! Don’t listen to him!”

“Scoots,” said Rainbow Dash, offering her the horn without looking at her. “Fill it.”

“Dash?”

Rainbow Dash frowned, showing a challenging smirk to the giant unicorn. “This is on!”

As Scootaloo filled the horn, Apple Bloom spotted a group of ponies coming towards them, one of them being a pink blur hopping everywhere. She recognized them as her sister’s friends, who had come to see the show, as Rainbow Dash had previously stated.

“Alright, bottoms up!” Without noticing her friends’ presence, she drank the cider, smashing the horn against the table when she finished. “Let’s see how you like this: your mockery and insults flow down the river, before I get tipsy, you’ll surely lose your liver!”

To her surprise, both Drakkar and Mjǫllna nodded in approval. “This might be longer than we thought,” she said playfully, rapidly serving him another drink.

“Very well, the contest will go on. Another!” he announced magnanimously with his hoof raised.

“Hey, girls, what’s going on?” asked Twilight, who stared dumbfounded at the large stallion in front of Rainbow Dash. “And who’s him?”

“He’s Mister Drakkar; he and Dash are competing in…” Apple Bloom tipped her chin for a moment, as if trying to find a way of describing what was going on. “A poetry drinking contest or something.”

“A poetry what now?” inquired Twilight. As she heard Apple Bloom, she looked at the table, where the two cider kegs rested. “This is totally nonsen—”

Rarity was quick to cover Twilight’s mouth before she could finish. “It’s surely a traditional game or competition in his homeland,” she corrected with a snicker before getting closer to her and whispering to her ear. “Drakkar there is a Scandineighvian pony, from the Frozen North, and he’s extremely proud of it, and so is Mjǫllna. Trust me; you don’t want to insult their lands or traditions.”

“Scandineighvians?” repeated Twilight with widened eyes as she turned to Rarity. “But that’s far beyond the Crystal Empire! What’s he doing here?”

Rarity jumped back with a loud gasp. “Wait, you know about Scandineighvia?” she asked, shocked at such revelation.

“Well, there isn’t that much in the books in Equestria, but I know a few things,” she replied, tapping her chin. “Maybe the Crystal Empire had more contact with them.”

“My turn,” claimed Drakkar, cleaning his muzzle with his front leg.

“He’s not the most socially correct pony, that’s for sure,” added Rarity, her face twitching in disgust at his lack of manners.

“Ice and blizzards won’t make me even shudder, and I punch frost giants without the need of a ladder!” chanted Drakkar, hitting his chest and raising the horn.

“I have to admit, though, that despite his manners, he apparently has certain poetic skills,” said Rarity. “I’d prefer something more romantic, though.”

“For what Ah got, it’s about drinking and then saying some fancy talking even say how awesome one is or how lame the other is,” said Applejack, greeting her friends.

“Scoots, fill it up!” cried Rainbow Dash as she turned around to meet the rest of the gang. “Thanks for coming, girls! This guy’s gonna bite the dust any minute now.”

“I don’t really think he’s going to be easy to defeat.” Rarity tried to look away when Mjǫllna threw a contemptuous glare at her as she filled Drakkar’s horn again. He, on the other hoof, simply nodded at most of them, only giving a warmer greeting to Fluttershy. “And I’d rather not be here.”

“A Scandineighvian drinking contest is neutral terrain,” said Drakkar. Noticing Mjǫllna’s reaction, he rested a hoof on her shoulder, slowly shaking his head. “Besides, this is Applejack’s place, I have no power here.”

“Is Rainbow Dash really going to try and rhyme boastings of herself against him?” insisted Twilight. “I’ve never thought she was fond of poetry.”

“But she is fond of ‘erself,” added Applejack with a short laugh, followed by a grunt from Rainbow Dash. “This is the fourth round of drinks, and she’s getting a bit better now. Listen to ‘er.”

Toasting to her friends, Rainbow Dash gulped the cider, and then rested her weight on her right elbow. “I fly through a fierce hurricane or the softest gale, and can create storms that’d make your homeland’s blizzards pale!”

Her friends watched with dropped jaws, blinking in disbelief at what had happened. “I simply can’t believe what my ears are hearing; Rainbow Dash just composed a poem on the run! Not the most lady-like,” added Rarity, “but it’s a start.”

“Maybe it’s the cider,” said Twilight with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve read about some ponies becoming proficient at certain skills while intoxicated.”

“So yer saying that Dash is good at poetry because she’s tipsy?” asked Applejack, trying her hardest to assimilate what was happening.

“I want to know what powers I get from drinking too much cider!” shouted Pinkie Pie, bouncing happily on the spot. “Maybe I’ll become a writer, or good at playing the tambourine, or I might turn into a limbo champion! Oh, oh, or maybe—”

“Pinkie, Ahm sure you’ll find out someday, and you’ll tell us all about it,” interjected Applejack, trying to stop Pinkie’s bouncing with her hoof and failing miserably.

“There goes mine,” announced Drakkar. “Ponies and beasts alike cower in fear, when my bellowing roar from afar they hear!”

“Yeah, whatever, big guy,” mocked Rainbow Dash, drinking from her horn, leaning back so much that her head touched the chair’s back. When she was done drinking, she offered the horn to Scootaloo without retaking a proper posture. A moment later, she pushed herself forward, resting both hooves on the table. “I am the pegasus mistress of lightning and thunder; now that you know, why don’t you give up, I wonder?”

“Rainbow Dash, that was a bit mean,” said Fluttershy lowly.

“He called me a legless cow a moment ago,” complained Rainbow Dash. “This is war!“

”Applejack,” whispered Mjǫllna as she leaned towards her.

“Yup? Something wrong?”

“I don’t think Dash should continue with this, but I also know that she’s not going to let this go.” Mjǫllna sounded concerned, trying not to call Drakkar or anypony else’s attention as she refilled the horn. “Will you take care of her when this is over?”

“Ya don’t even have to ask, Sugarcube,” assured Applejack with a whisper. “We won’t let ‘er down.”

“Fearsome wolves made of solid ice I shatter to shards and make them flee like mice,” chanted Drakkar before leaning back with his front legs crossed and resting on his chest. “Your turn, Bifrǫst.”

Apple Bloom spotted a group of ponies walking towards them, surely intrigued by Rainbow Dash’s invitation to the event. They got close enough to hear her rhyme.

“My Sonic Rainboom creates rainbows at will, while your muscles barely hold you still!” replied Rainbow Dash, slowly giving the horn to Scootaloo.

The newly arrived ponies stared at them, trying to figure out what was going on. While they were there, another group of ponies, larger than the last one, appeared in the distance, and Apple Bloom patiently explained to them what this was all about.

“Our most abundant and memorable feasts, are those composed of sharks and other beasts,” said Drakkar with a wide grin. When he looked at Fluttershy and saw her face twitched in utter disgust, his joy faded away. “I should avoid boasting about our eating habits when Fluttershy’s around,” he added in a low voice.

“That sounds like a good idea,” replied Mjǫllna with a giggle as she refilled the horn. “Let’s see what Dash has to say about this.”

“Bottoms up!” Dash drank the cider slowly, putting the horn by Scootaloo’s side and leaning her head on her left hoof. “During this challenge, let cider endlessly flow! I assure that I won’t let victory go!”

Drakkar nailed both elbows on the table, resting his face between his hooves. Shaking his head slightly to shoo away the sprouting dizziness, he looked to his left here Mjǫllna was. “This mare has more stamina than I thought,” he whispered. “And her poetry’s getting better over time.”

“Can it be that my hoofcarl in groomed pelt is worried about losing against an Equestrian mare?” she teased as she showed a short, snarky grin.

“I’m not saying that,” he grunted lowly. “She actually looks like she won’t be able to stand any longer.”

“I could say the same about you,” she giggled. “You’re starting to lean more on the table or chair.”

“I’m still in better shape than her,” he grunted, rubbing his eyes.

“I know something that might give you some extra strength.” Mjǫllna slowly got close to Drakkar’s ear, covering it, as well as her muzzle, with her hooves.

“Hey, no cheating!” cried Scootaloo, pointing at her.

“Do you have to ruin every moment we have?” replied Mjǫllna bluntly, to which Scootaloo shrank slightly as her ears drooped. “If you think I’m cheating, help Dash too if you want!” With a huff, she turned to Drakkar again, getting her lips touch his ear, covered behind her hooves so nopony could see her. Closing her eyes, she tenderly bit his lower ear, letting out a lavish pant made his free ear perk up. His eyes widened at the unexpected gesture, and, nervous, he accidentally pounded the table with a hoof. At such reaction, and trying not to giggle as she licked a circle around his ear, she giggled as she slowly returned to her place.

“M-Mjǫllna!” whispered Drakkar, slightly blushed, yet showing a pleased smile.

“That’s an appetizer,” she teased with a wink. “Winners get first, second course and dessert,” she added as she refilled horn to Drakkar. Before giving it to him, though, she pressed her lips against it as if she were to drink, and then offered it to him. A few ponies in the crowd cheered at the gesture, and some sentences were heard.

“Nice catch, Mjǫllna!” said one of the florists.

Drakkar showed a broad smile as his horn and throat glowed. Looking up he let out a roar that caught almost everypony off-guard, while Twilight stared in awe at the unusual spell. The threatening sound faded away slowly, being replaced by laughter from Drakkar. With his confidence restored, he hit his chest with the free hoof. “Get ready, Equestria!” he announced proudly, “for today you’ll witness what a Scandineighvian skáld can do!”

-o-

In Mjǫllna’s house, Hearth Fire walked to and fro in the dining room, huffing and cursing in a low voice.

“That girl doesn’t seem to want to know where she’s getting into,” she grunted, stopping her walking to see a family portrait with herself, a newborn Mjǫllna and a blue male pegasus with long, wavy silver mane and shiny purple eyes. “Why did you have to leave, you miserable featherbrain?! You ruined everything!” In a fit of rage, she slapped the picture, crashing on the floor. At the loud sound, Vínviðr trotted to the room as fast as her age allowed her. When she got there, the only thing in the room out of the ordinary was a ragged breathing Hearth Fire and a picture with the frame shattered and spread all across the floor.

“What’s going on, dear?” asked Vínviðr with a mixture of fear and concern.

“Nothing, mother!” grunted Hearth Fire. “I’m just angry because Mjǫllna’s dating that barbaric stallion, but you don’t care about that, so you’re just going to call it nonsense!”

“Far from it, my dear,” corrected Vínviðr. “In fact, I think I’m beginning to see the root of your problems.” She slowly got close to the picture, carefully to avoid stepping on a splinter, and picked it up. “Everything has to do with Solar Beam, right?”

Hearth Fire didn’t turn to face her, but nodded weakly. Her anger slowly faded away, her head lowering as her eyes became watery. “I miss Beamie. I miss him a lot.” Letting herself fall onto the couch, she buried a side of her head among the pillows. “He said so many beautiful things to me. He loved Mjǫllna so much.” Her tender voice swiftly changed to one of anger and despair. “And then he left with the most pathetic excuse I’ve ever heard!”

“Feeling like a failure wasn’t uncommon to him,” said Vínviðr, caressing the picture. “Being rejected from the Wonderbolt Academy was too much of a hard blow to his already low self-esteem.”

“That’s still no excuse for leaving!” roared Hearth Fire as she pounded the cushion with both front hooves.

“I’m not justifying his behavior, my dear,” replied Vínviðr with a soft shake of her head. “I’m just saying that Beam’s problem was aiming way too high and not being ready to withstand the consequences of not succeeding. But he wasn’t a bad stallion; he wanted the best for both of you, but he considered he wasn’t.”

“How dare you say that?” inquired Hearth Fire as she got up from the couch, pounding the floor as she walked to Vínviðr. “I took care of him, cheered him up when he was down and assured him that nothing would go wrong if he didn’t get to join the Wonderbolts! What did you say to him?”

“Watch your words, Eldstaðr!” warned Vínviðr with a bitter tone. Though Hearth Fire seemed to calm down a bit, she kept a frown and kept staring at her. “I tried my best to keep him here. The poor stallion was shattered when he was rejected from the Wonderbolt Academy. I told him that he already was the stallion both you and Mjǫllna needed; that he just had to see it himself. I stayed with him for almost an hour, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Hearth Fire took the picture from Vínviðr’s hoof, flying slowly back to the couch, sitting on one of the pillows. After staring at the picture in complete silence for a while, she took a long sigh. “Do you remember how much he enjoyed playing with Mjǫllna?” she said with a trembling lip.

“Boy, do I remember,” replied Vínviðr as she trotted to her side. “I’ve seen a lot of families, but none could say that their foals got tired of playing before their parents. But Beamie was too much for Mjǫllna; no matter how much energy she had, her father played with her until she got sleepy.”

“And he mailed us toys the first few years for her,” added Hearth Fire, slowly resting her hoof on Solar Beam’s portrait. “And some bits every now and then.”

“He loved Mjǫllna with all his heart, my dear.”

“But he still left. I don’t care what he’s been doing for us; I will never… never forgive him for leaving me to take care of our daughter on my own!” Vínviðr rested a hoof on Hearth Fire’s shoulder, and then cleared her throat while keeping a raised eyebrow. “Yes, I know that you helped me too, and I really appreciate that, but what I wanted was a normal family. Yes, Mjǫllna never lacked anything, but she needed a father, a parental figure! And she had none!”

“Oh, come on, my dear. There are mares out there who get along quite well without one,” said Vínviðr, hugging her daughter in an attempt to comfort her.

“I know, but this could’ve been avoided, mother! Mjǫllna could’ve had a father who took her to school, to the prom and taught her about life!”

“And now you want to make sure that she doesn’t suffer the same fate as you did,” said Vínviðr, to which Hearth Fire replied with a sad nod. “That’s very noble of you, but I think she’ll be fine.”

“No, she won’t, mother!” she cried, taking off with such strength that she almost crashed into the ceiling. “Drakkar has businesses here, and no matter how much extra work he wants to do, he’ll have to leave someday. He’s not like Beamie in that sense. Drakkar lives in a different kingdom, and he serves in the military there. He will return when he’s done!”

“Dear, I think Mjǫllna gave him enough reasons to return,” she replied with a giggle.

“What are you—” When Hearth Fire realized what she was talking about, her jaw dropped in shock. Her wings flapped slowly as she lost height until she landed on the couch. “Don’t tell me she—”

“Oh, they just said goodbye to each other with a quite passionate kiss,” explained Vínviðr with a laugh as she remembered how she closed the window mere inches away from her muzzle. “Ah, the youth of the North; from such an icy climate, and yet bearing such fiery passions.”

“They kissed? In our backyard? And you didn’t say anything?”

“I admit I was quite shocked, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves, and I’m far from a mood killer.” Vínviðr then changed to a more snarky voice, throwing a mocking glare at her. “At least they had the decency of not coming inside and making out in this very couch we’re sitting on right now.” She smirked as Hearth Fire blushed furiously with her eyes wide open, letting out a gasp. “Yes, I saw you two there. It was your second date, right?”

“Uh… y-yes.” Hearth Fire looked away, covering herself with her wing as she spoke. “The rain caught us off-guard and I took him home, and—”

“Honey, you don’t need to justify what you were doing,” Vínviðr assured as she tenderly pushed the wing away, laughing it off. “We Scandineighvian are passionate ponies. Our culture isn’t one for long periods of time being coltfriend and fillyfriend as they do here. The average Fimbulvetrian couple, if both are in love, gets married in a month or two. Us mares don’t like those stallions to keep us waiting,” she added with a laugh.

“Yeah, I know,” Hearth Fire replied with a giggle. “However, I’m still concerned about Mjǫllna.”

“I’m sure that she’s gonna be fine,” said Vínviðr, grabbing her daughter’s face with both hooves and making her look at her in the eyes. “Drakkar seemed like a very nice stallion, and very responsible too.”

-o-

“Drink, drink, drink, drink, drink!” chanted the crowd as Drakkar gulped the cider.

Though it started as a simple two-pony friendly duel, it ended up turning into a massive event that almost all of Ponyville was watching. After a whole hour of drinking and rhyming, some ponies began placing bets about who would win. Applejack refused at first, but ended up obliging as Apple Bloom began to cry pony names and the amount of bits they wanted to bet. Seeing that the event would be much more lucrative than expected, the Apple siblings shared the burden of organizing everything.

The odds were two to one for Drakkar, being the largest of the two contestants and the one who took the longest to start showing the side effects of alcohol; three to one for Rainbow Dash, who was becoming surprisingly skilled with poetry as she turned less skilled at sitting straight. And, in case of a tie, for Pinkie Pie, the only pony who placed that bet, the odds were twenty-five to one. Applejack and her friends tried to convince her not to bet, much less for such an implausible situation, but nopony was able to make Pinkie change her mind, so Twilight advised them to give a high stake to make sure that nopony else had the preposterous idea of betting to that, but that didn’t stop her from betting forty bits, much to her friends’ disappoint.

During the whole event, Twilight was relentlessly asking questions as quickly as she could, while Applejack overheard Pinkie and Fluttershy doing her best to satisfy her curiosity. She wasn’t paying as much attention to the contest as she was to everything her friends had to say. What seemed to slightly upset her was the fact that she wasn’t knowledgeable about him, Scandineighvia and Fimbulvetr as she, as Celestia’s prime student, should be. Though Twilight wasn’t able to hear her friends during the cheering of the crowd when either Drakkar or Dash recited their verses, the contest lasted long enough for her to learn everything Pinkie and Fluttershy had learned about him.

Both Drakkar and Rainbow Dash stared at each other, each one grabbing the table with a hoof while holding their drinking horns with the other one. The Sun had set long time ago, and the numerous stars joined the rest of Ponyville to witness the event that had been going for about half a day. There had been several time outs for the contestants to use the restroom, but aside from that, they spent the whole time drinking, boasting and mocking each other.

He tightly closed his eyes, shaking her head and took a deep breath before speaking. “You can hardly fly, walk or even crawl, so call it quits and put an end to the drinking brawl.” A large group of ponies in the crowd cried of joy as the rest booed in anger.

“Hah, in your dreams, big guy!” replied Rainbow Dash, raising both hooves in the air, getting an ovation from the ones who had bet on her. “Scoots, another!”

“Are you sure you can keep up with this?” she asked, concerned. “You can barely sit straight.”

“I ain’t gonna let him win. Pour some cider on me, kid! We’ll show him how tough we are here in Equestria!” Rainbow Dash threw a punch in the air, but her dizziness and total lack of balance forced her to land her elbow on the table to avoid falling facedown onto it.

Scootaloo sighed as she served Rainbow Dash the cider, and she drank it slowly, a sign that she was barely able to go on, but her pride wouldn’t let her admit defeat so easily.

“I gotta tell you, this is far from the end. I’ll defeat you and you’ll cry to your fillyfriend,” sang Rainbow Dash playfully with a confident grin.

Drakkar burst into laughter, ignoring the crowd crying Rainbow Dash’s name. ”You have some guts and a strong liver, Bifrǫst. But this ends here and now! Mjǫllna!” he cried as he offered the drinking horn. “Another round!”

When she tried to fill the container, the only thing that came out of the keg was a short ‘psst’ and nothing else. “Well, looks like you dried up this one,” she said with a tilt of her head.

Drakkar rested her back on the chair, staring at his empty drinking horn in Mjǫllna’s hoof. As Scootaloo sighed in relief, Rainbow Dash leaned forward, nailing both elbows on the table as she held her head with her hooves.

“Well, they ended up the whole cider keg and both are still up, that means that it’s a draw!” announced Applejack loudly, much to almost everypony’s sadness. There was one pony who jumped and cried of joy, though.

“Yay! I won! I won! I won!” sang Pinkie Pie, raising joyfully her ticket. Meanwhile, the vast majority of the attendants began to leave the place, some of them commenting on the wonderful experience it had been, while most of them complained about their lost bits.

“Well, apparently we have a winner,” said Applejack with a tip of her hat. “Let me see how much you won.” She trotted towards her and looked at the piece of paper, her jaw dropping in shock as her eyes widened. “D-did ya really bet forty bits?”

“That’s right! I knew that Drakkar’s size would make him strong enough, and Dashie loves cider and competition, so I guessed that the keg wouldn’t last enough! My guts kept telling me that it was a safe bet! See? They’re cheering!” Pinkie Pie grabbed Applejack’s head and pulled it next to her belly for her to hear the grumbles of her insides.

After freeing herself from Pinkie’s grip, Applejack shook her head with a snicker. “Yeah, but Ah think yer just hungry. Y’all have been here since midday!”

“The odds for the tie were quite high, weren’t they?” inquired Fluttershy timidly.

“Yeah, twenty-five to one,” replied Twilight, looking up for a moment as she performed the mental calculations. “That means that Pinkie won… a thousand bits!”

“A thousand bits?! Imagine how many pancakes I can buy with all that money!” cried Pinkie Pie in a burst of happiness.

“Has anypony thought that we now have to count a thousand bits from that large sack?” asked Rarity, slightly uncomfortable at the imposing size of the container.

“Don’t worry about that, Rarity,” comforted Twilight with a wink. “With a bit of organization and some buckets, I can count the thousand bits in no time!”

“Ahm on it!” said Apple Bloom, galloping inside the barn.

“While she’s on it,” added Applejack, “we should bring these two something to eat.”

“Eeeyup,” said Big Macintosh as he followed Apple Bloom, to which Applejack replied with a nod while keeping an eye on the two wobbly contestants.

“Scoots,” said Rainbow Dash immediately before covering her mouth with a hoof as her cheeks puffed with a disgusting sound. Pushing the little filly aside, she took off as fast as her clumsy flying allowed her towards the outhouse, shutting the door violently behind her.

“Is she going to be okay?” asked Scootaloo, staring scared at the rest of the fillies.

“She’ll stay here tonight, Ah don’t think she’s in condition of flying home,” said Applejack, caressing the filly’s head. “No need to worry, she’s safe ‘ere. Ah have some medicine for ‘er for when she wakes up.”

Meanwhile, Apple Bloom trotted back with five tin buckets balancing on her head. At the same time, Twilight had made a small tower with ten bits, and magically set all the buckets in line.

“With this little tower of ten bits as reference,” began explaining Twilight, “I can divide the bits in groups, making them easier to count and distribute. I’m surprised about Equestria not having a currency worth more than the bit; that would make this much easier,” she added with a shrug.

A purple aura surrounded all the coins, dancing in mid air as they formed small towers of ten bits like the other one. Every time a group of twenty towers were set, she put them inside one of the five buckets. When she was done, every bucket was filled with two hundred bits each. To everypony’s surprise, there were still a lot of coins floating in the air.

“Wow, we were lucky that only Pinkie won” said Rarity with a relieved huff. “Can you imagine if either Dash or Drakkar had won and the money of the bids wasn’t enough to pay the winners?”

“That would’ve been horrible,” replied Fluttershy, slowly walking towards Drakkar, as Twilight was still making small towers with the remaining coins. “Are you okay?”

“I… have been better, to be honest,” admitted Drakkar with a grunt, massaging his forehead. “This is the first time I dueled against a pony that became better at poetry the drunker they got. And I’m not used to using Equestrian poetry, with the rhyming and all. Our poetry’s different to this one, but I didn’t consider fair forcing her to use our rules.”

“That’s a darn fine thing to do,” said Applejack, resting a hoof on his shoulder. As they spoke, Big Mac brought a basket of apples with him. “There’s mah brother with some fruit; you should eat a bit.”

“And I can make some medicine for you in the morning,” added Fluttershy. “I have the feeling you’ll need them.”

“Thanks, Fluttershy,” he said as he closed his eyes tightly.

“Oh, I’m sorry; I didn’t ask if Mjǫllna wanted to take him home.” Fluttershy shrank as she looked at the mare next to Drakkar, who looked back at her with tender eyes.

“It’s okay, Fluttershy, I know you’re taking good care of him,” she said with a giggle. “Besides, the last thing my mother needs is me bringing this hunk of mine home in such a deplorable shape. I’ll take him to your house myself. You should all stay with Rainbow Dash, though.” Mjǫllna looked turned to face the outhouse. “Her boastful nature might be a little bit more than her liver.”

“Granny Smith’s with ‘er right now,” assured Apple Bloom. “Ahm sure she knows how to make Dash feel better.”

“You can go with her, Fluttershy,” insisted Mjǫllna, grabbing Drakkar’s arm. “I’ll take care of him.”

“Okay, if you have everything under control…” As Mjǫllna nodded, Fluttershy turned around and galloped towards the outhouse.

“Well, I’m done!” announced Twilight as she poured the content of the buckets magically into the sack and offered it to Pinkie Pie. “We have here three hundred and seventy-nine bits for you, Applejack!”

“Well, Ah’ll be, that’s more than what Ah was gonna get for the keg alone!” cried Applejack, scratching her head under the hat. “Don’t worry, buddy,” she added, turning to Drakkar, “this covers up the bet; neither you nor Dash owe me anythin’.”

“And I’ve won so much money thanks to you two that it covers all the food you ate at Sugarcube Corner!” said Pinkie, walking on her hind legs with an exaggerated sneaky stance, as if pretending to be a burglar with the huge sack of money held with her front hooves. “So we’re even too!”

Drakkar let out a long, relieved sigh before falling face down on the table with a loud thud. Stretching his hoof, he reached one of the apples and gave it a large bite. “There goes my first impression,” he said after swallowing.

“Oh, don’t feel bad about it,” comforted Mjǫllna, caressing her back. “You see, girls,” she added as she looked up to the rest of the mares, “we were at my smithy and Dash came to thank me for the wing weights I crafted for her. After that, she felt unbeatable, and assured Drakkar that she could beat him at anything, even at his own games.”

“That’s Rainbow Dash, alright,” said Applejack with a laugh. “But Drakkar didn’t seem to know about the bet.”

“That’s because we never talked about bets,” assured Mjǫllna. “I guess it was a way to make sure that you obliged.”

“Ah see.” Applejack turned to the barn, shaking her head slightly. “Ah apologize in her name for all the trouble.”

Drakkar began to laugh lowly, holding the almost eaten apple. “Trouble?” he said as he sat straight while Mjǫllna grabbed him tightly to make sure he didn’t fall again. “Applejack, this has been the best drinking game I’ve had in my life! I would’ve worked my way to pay whatever money I would’ve owed you for the pleasure of this day!”

“I’m going to take him to Fluttershy’s house,” said Mjǫllna as she got up. “You should go see Rainbow Dash.”

“We will, Sugarcube,” replied Applejack. “Take the apples with ya; I’ll tell Fluttershy to give the basket back tomorrow.” She then turned to her friends, as Twilight poured the bits in one of the buckets, almost overflowing with the money, as she put the other four one inside the other. “Come on, girls, we have to go with Rainbow Dash!”

-o-

During their trip home, Drakkar was far more talkative than usual, telling drunk anecdotes from his homeland. Mjǫllna listened to him in shock, trying her best not to laugh at the crazy stories.

“So, let me get this straight,” said Mjǫllna as she pushed Drakkar gently to avoid him falling on her. “You actually decided to wrestle with another pony to decide who was right about the result of a previous wrestling match?”

“Both contestants had fallen to the ground almost at the same time,” explained Drakkar, clumsily trying to walk straight and failing at giving a bite to the apple he was magically holding. “It sounded like a good idea to me back then.”

Mjǫllna burst into laughter as she leaned on his side to help him support his own weight. “Sounds like mead flowed aplenty that day,” she replied with a teasing grin.

“Oh, yes, indeed it did,” assured Drakkar with an exaggerated gesture that, if not for her assistance, would’ve caused him to fall to the ground. “The annual alþing always has plenty of drink. But that wrestling argument was nothing compared to the bear jousting we had once.”

With a shocked expression and eyes so widened that seemed like they’d fall off, Mjǫllna stared at him in awe. “You… you jousted on bears? I never knew that was common practice there!“

”It isn’t,” he replied, laughing loudly. “But when a young and overly drunk stallion challenges every warrior present to a bear-jousting competition, and they are drunk enough to consider it the greatest idea ever, it gets done.”

“I really want to hear about that,” said Mjǫllna, bursting in excitement. “It should’ve been the stuff of legends!”

Drakkar raised an eyebrow at her words, shaking his head slowly. “Look at me, Mjǫllna; I can barely walk on my own. Do you really think that, while being this drunk, I’ll be able to ride a bear and do something aside from falling off the animal?”

“Oh, but you use them as mounts in the military, right?” she insisted playfully.

“Only a few elite warriors ride them, and those are not only specifically trained to do so,” he explained, “but also have special saddles and battle gear. I tell you, witnessing a charge of mounted spearponies is a terrifying experience, nearly impossible to forget. ”

“I’m assuming that bears are common there,” said Mjǫllna. From where they were, Fluttershy’s house was already visible. “So I guess that the bear’s barding is what makes them only suitable for the richest ponies.”

“That’s true,” replied Drakkar with a pleased nod, “but it also has to do with the required training of the bear which is going to be used as a mount. And then you have the bonding period, which can require months, and that is if the bear accepts the rider,” he added as he sighed in relief as he spotted Fluttershy’s home from the distance.

“So you can spend all the money in the barding and gear, and the bear can simply refuse to accept you as his rider?” inquired Mjǫllna with a raised eyebrow.

Drakkar’s joyful expression slowly faded, turning into a sad grimace as he looked up at the starry sky. “Bears are sapient creatures, and are revered in Scandineighvia,” he started, stomping the ground as he lost balance, preventing a fall. Clearing his throat and pretending that nothing had happened, and ignoring Mjǫllna’s held laughter, he resumed. “We understand bears when they speak, and their wishes and decisions are respected and fulfilled. This means that, for example, if one refuses to serve as a mount for a specific pony, you can’t force him to do so. You can try and find out why he doesn’t want you to ride him; sometimes they want to make sure you’re worth such an honor.”

“So what happened with the bears you used for that drunk jousting?”

“They weren’t trained for riding.” After a brief moment of silence, Drakkar tilted his head, snorting softly. “We also woke them up, so they weren’t on the mood to put up with our drunken bets. Not to mention that riding bareback didn’t make trying to stay on top any easier,” he added with a chuckle.

Mjǫllna looked at him through the corner of the eye, showing a lavish smirk. “I really hope that’s not a problem anymore.”

“Nah, once I sober up I have no prob—” Drakkar stopped in mid sentence, suddenly turning to Mjǫllna with a shocked expression.

Bursting into laughter, Mjǫllna pushed him gently. “It took your time, huh?”

Without her to help him stand, Drakkar fell to the ground, a few feet away from Fluttershy’s cottage. Before he had a chance of getting up, Mjǫllna pounced directly over him, forcing him to stay in his place. She lowered her body, almost resting her weight on him, her muzzle inches away from his.

“Well, this has been an interesting date,” she whispered, her left elbow leaned on the ground as her hoof caressed Drakkar’s leonine mane.

“A typical Scandineighvian date,” he replied with a tired, yet pleased, huff.

Mjǫllna raised an eyebrow, showing an inciting smirk. “I admit that I like cider as much as the next pony. I don’t like my stallion’s breath to smell like it, though,” she admitted as she tapped Drakkar’s horn.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” he complained, to which Mjǫllna reacted by lowering her hoof and covering his mouth.

“I don’t care if you drink or not,” she interjected with a slightly scolding tone, slowly showing a brazen beam as her voice changed to a more inciting one. “But I do want to make sure you’ll remember what we do.” She rested her lips on the hoof she had on his muzzle. “I want you to remember every time our tongues entangle inside our mouths when we kiss. Whenever you’re not with me, I want you to long for me to be yours again, just as I long for you to be mine. Every time you see me, I want you to remember the times I bit your ear, or silently panted as I licked your strong and powerful neck and my chest pressed against yours.” Her ears perked up as she looked down too see Drakkar’s chest pumping up and down, followed by faster heart beats. With an approving nod, she passed the tongue around her lips. “That’s right. Keep that in mind. Or at least try it if all that cider allows you,” she added with a chuckle.

“I don’t get forgetful after drinking,” complained Drakkar as she pushed her hoof away from his mouth.

“Oh, yeah?” she inquired playfully, throwing a teasing glare at him. “I guess you wouldn’t mind betting on that, right? Prove that you can remember anything about today and you’ll get twice the prize I promised if you won the contest. If you lose, though,” she continued as she drew circles with the tip of her hoof on his heaving chest, “I can think of a lot of chores I could use an assistant for.”

“You enjoy our time together as much as I do,” replied Drakkar, slowly resting his hooves slightly over Mjǫllna’s tail. “Aren’t you going to make it a bit easier? We’ll both enjoy ourselves.”

Mjǫllna looked back at Drakkar’s hooves, tapping her haunch rhythmically, and then turned to look at him as she rolled her eyes with a delighted beam. “If you ask it so nicely… close your eyes.” Without a second thought, Drakkar obliged as a smile began to draw on his muzzle. Mjǫllna then grabbed his cheeks, lowered her head and, as she closed her eyes, sensually licked his lips, letting out a loud pant as her tongue caressed his mouth. As Drakkar’s eyes opened followed by his ragged breathing, she showed a pleased smile and tilted her head. “You can’t complain about my generous tip for tomorrow morning, can you?”

She wasn’t able to react on time as Drakkar held her from the waist and pushed one of her hind legs, making her trip and fall on him. With a quick turn, he rolled and let Mjǫllna to fall face up on the grass. Her head was resting on his left front hoof, with Drakkar on top of her and their muzzles barely touching.

“Now this is much better!” she admitted, wrapping his body with her hooves.

“You won’t shut up, huh?” said Drakkar with a mocking tone.

“Make me!” replied Mjǫllna right before licking his lips once more, this time as a quick move he didn’t expect.

Drakkar pulled her towards him, their mouths joining together in a deep kiss. Led by the flames of passion, both ponies forgot about time and place, focusing solely on each other.

-o-

As the rest of her friends took care of Rainbow Dash, and after apologizing a few times before leaving, Twilight rushed to the library as fast as her legs allowed her. With her mind flooded with everything she had learned and wanted to write about, she wasn’t able to focus in even the simplest spell. Once she arrived to her place, she slammed the door open, causing Spike to jump out of his bed.

“Whu-what-What’s going on?!” stuttered Spike as he stumbled across the upper floor in his pajamas. He looked down to see Twilight running to her desk. “Twilight, it’s you! Where in Equestria have you been all day?”

“In a poetry drinking contest, but now’s not the time to talk about me,” she replied hastily, leaving the young dragon unbelievably confused.

“A poetry drinking contest?” Spike’s eyebrow twitched as he held back a laugh. “Okay, Twilight, where have you really been all day?”

Without answering him, Twilight levitated her quill and a parchment, speaking aloud as she wrote. “Dear Princess Celestia,” she started, walking around the main hall as Spike rushed to put stuff away from her path so she wouldn’t trip and all, “today I’ve met a Scandineighvian pony, who goes by the name of Drakkar. For what I’ve gathered, he’s a hoofcarl from Scandineighvia, in the kingdom of Fimbulvetr. He spends most of the time either at Fluttershy’s house or at the local smithy. I’m going to do some research in my library, but I’ll appreciate if you could send me as much information about this that you might have in the Canterlot Library as possible. I’m going to take a train to the Crystal Empire myself tomorrow morning to try and see if they had more contact with these Fimbulvetrian ponies. I’ll send you as much information I gather as possible. Your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.”

When she was done with the letter, she stopped walking and folded the parchment, offering it to Spike. With a quick burst of green flames, Spike set the letter ablaze, and the ashes flew through the window towards Canterlot castle. “I’ve barely understood a word you said,” admitted Spike as he scratched the back of his neck. “What did you write about?”

“There’s a stallion from a different kingdom here,” replied Twilight with a frown as she looked through the library. “We’ve had sightings of Scandineighvian ponies before, but this is the first time that I know of that one of them interacts in such a way with Equestria!”

“And what does he want?”

“Just mapping for what Fluttershy told me, and I think he’s in a relationship with a mare, which might explain why he isn’t performing his duties as quickly as usual,” said Twilight, noticing how Spike’s eyes widened in shock.

“With who?!” cried Spike as he jumped towards Twilight, clenching her hair as he stared at her in the eyes.

“Calm down, Spike!” she tried to say, shaking her head trying in vain to get him to release her. “He’s dating the local blacksmith, Mjǫllna!”

At those words, he let out a sigh as he loosened the grips, falling on the floor. “But wait, how do you know this?”

“Rarity told me that Mjǫllna was a descendant of a Scandineighvian mare who moved to Ponyville by the time the Apple Family founded—” Twilight stopped talking for a moment, a wide beam sprouting on her face. “The Apple Family! Of course! I can ask Granny Smith! She’ll know all I need to know!”

“Why don’t you just ask Mjǫllna, or her family?” asked Spike with a shrug.

Though Twilight at first raised a hoof in an attempt to refute his idea, her ears perked up, slowly nodding in approval. “That’s actually an even better idea! But it’s been a long time, and they’ve been living in Ponyville for too long. Maybe they forgot their traditions. Then again, Rarity insisted that they were proud ponies concerning their culture, and—”

“Wait a minute, Twilight,” interjected Spike with a raised claw. “So she’s the one who’s making Rarity suffer because she refuses to craft the brooches she needs?” added Spike, menacingly showing his fangs.

“I don’t think now’s the time to think about that, Spike,” replied Twilight. “But now that you mention it, I did what Applejack told me and found brochures of the Canterlot smithies and jewel crafters,” she added as she magically pulled an envelope from her bed.

“So she’s going to be fine?” asked Spike with hopeful eyes.

However, Twilight shook her head with a saddened expression. “The prices are quite expensive, so it’s a desperate measure she’ll have to take. I’m not sure how much she expected to earn with the dresses, but chances are that she’d barely be able to get any profit if she’s forced to commission the brooches from these places.”

“Maybe you can try and talk to Mjǫllna to find a way for them to make up?” asked Spike with a shrug as he ran out of ideas.

“I want to take care of this Scandineighvian pony first,” insisted Twilight, grabbing a few parchments and putting them inside the saddlebags that were hanging on the chair. “You can tell Rarity to talk to Mjǫllna’s family.”

“Tomorrow morning I’ll go visit her at Carousel Boutique!” he said with a salute. His straight position lasted next to nothing as he let out a long yawn and leaned forward. “But I’m going back to bed now.”

“Of course, Spike,” replied Twilight as she giggled. “Sorry for waking you up.”

Spike shrugged it off, turning to Twilight with a joyful beam. “This is my daily bread, I’ve got used to it.”

Brodr at hjarta

Brøðr at hjarta (Brothers at heart)

At Canterlot Castle, Celestia witnessed how Luna raised the Moon and placed the stars in the sky. Since her return, and despite how tired she was every day, she never missed that moment, enjoying every single time she watched her younger sister work, masterfully painting the dark blue canvas with fine white orbs. It was relaxing and also comforting, a statement that Luna had returned to her side, and the times of Nightmare Moon were no more.

“A marvelous work of art as usual, my sister,” congratulated Celestia, slowly walking next to her as both princesses contemplated with satisfied smiled the starry heaven.

“We appreciate thy words, sister,” replied Luna with a regal tone, yet beaming all the while. “Thou shouldst rest now that we’re done. A new day awaits thee when our night comes to an end.”

“Indeed,” she admitted with a soft huff. “I should go see Cadance and Shining Armor to see how thing are going at the Crystal Empire. There haven’t been reports since they defeated Sombra.”

“No news is good news, we presume,” replied Luna with a shrug. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask them, though. We shalt make sure that a chariot will be ready for thee by the time thou wakest up.”

“Thank you, sister. I will go to sleep for today. I leave Equestria in your hooves.”

“We’re afraid that thou shalt stay here for a bit longer,” said Luna with a joyful smile as she pointed at some sparkling green smoke that moved towards them, entering through the balcony.

Celestia turned around to see how the smoke turned into a sealed parchment. “Twilight doesn’t write letters this late,” she said with a raised eyebrow as she magically unsealed and unrolled the message. “Dear Princess Celestia,” she started, “today I’ve met a Scandineighvian pony, who goes—”

Luna’s ears perked up as she suddenly turned to face her sister, staring at her with widened eyes. “Scandineighvian? Really? Please, sister, let us read it!” she pleaded, flying behind her and trying to read over her sister’s shoulder. At Luna’s persistence, Celestia gently offered the parchment to her, to which he reacted by grabbing it with both hooves and flying higher in the air. “It’s true, a Scandineighvian pony, and a hoofcarl, no less! We haven’t seen one of these since our previous visit to the Frozen North. Dost thou remember it, sister?” asked Luna with a wistful smile?.

“How could I forget?” replied Celestia with a chuckle. “They mistook us for the gods of the Day and Night and made a large feast in our honor.”

“Hrim-Faxi and Skin-Faxi they called us,” said Luna, giggling at the memory as she slowly flew down to the ground. “And now one of them is here, in Equestria, interacting with our subjects!”

“It is indeed an oddity,” admitted Celestia as she looked down the balcony. “Sightings of Scandineighvian ponies occur rarely, once every few decades, but they mostly avoid talking to other ponies. Why one of them decided to change that is something I don’t know.”

“What if he’s a diplomat that wants to discuss an alliance between Equestria and Scandineighvia?” inquired Luna, resting both hooves on the marble supports.

Celestia noticed her sister’s hopeful eyes as she spoke. “It’s a possibility; I’m not going to deny that. If he’s interacting with our subjects, he might be interested. However,” she added, making Luna look at her, her smile slowly fading, “we can’t simply give our trust to the first pony who comes from a different kingdom.” Celestia stared at the horizon, trying not to look at her sister for fear of losing objectivity at Luna’s sad gaze. “You know as well as I do that Equestria has gone through difficult times. We were able to defeat Chrysalis and Sombra, but new threats might come from everywhere.”

“Precisely because of that, sister,” interjected Luna, “Equestria must find new allies in these dark times, and if this hoofcarl comes in peace, why shouldn’t we at least consider the possibility?”

Celestia closed her eyes, slowly lowering her head. “I remember Scandineighvians being imposing warriors, and their magic was something worth witnessing, yes.”

“Oh, we know!” cried Luna, flapping her wings out of joy. “We remember when those unicorns summoned those columns of fire at the festival they made in our honor.”

Celestia smiled, chuckling tenderly as she opened her eyes and looked at her sister. “They were quite noisy with all the shouting.”

With a loud laugh, Luna nodded at her sister’s comment. “Considering that such magic is mostly used to support infantry in the battlefield, we assume that lack of discretion isn’t an issue. We still remember a few spells they taught us back then.”

“You sure hold Scandineighvia in a special place in your heart, sister,” commented Celestia with a concerned tone.

Luna walked towards one of the walls, leaning on it as she looked forward, staring at nothing in particular and remaining silent for a bit, simply replying to her sister with a nod. Celestia approached her slowly as Luna sighed sorrowfully. “Scandineighvia was the first place where ponies celebrated our night. They danced and sang under the stars, chanting eddas that described the dark skies with wonderful words. They cheered us for our work like nopony in Equestria had ever done before.” Luna looked at her sister with a weak smile that contrasted with her mournful eyes. “For the first time, we felt what thou must feel every day, when everypony in Equestria greets thy days.”

“I understand,” said Celestia, draping a comforting wing around her sister. “We both had a very fun time there.” She tried to cheer her sister up with the good parts of their trip, but her efforts were to no avail.

“During our banishment,” continued Luna, returning her attention to Equestria as memories seemed to return to her, “we remembered thee, but also the frozen lands of the North. Thinking of what we did there, and how much we enjoyed our time there, was heartwarming, and one of the few things that kept us from becoming completely consumed by Nightmare Moon.”

“Now things have changed, sister,” assured Celestia, resting her forehead on her Luna’s. “Ponies in Equestria have learned to love your night. They also admire you, especially at Nightmare Night.” With a chuckle, she slowly moved away, slowly caressing her sister’s mane with her wing’s feathers. “I still remember what you told me about scaring those fillies and colts transforming into Nightmare Moon.”

Luna couldn’t hold back a giggle at the memory. “We still think we went a bit out of hoof there, but everypony loved it.”

“If you think that this…” Celestia magically pulled the parchment, swiftly skimming through the letter searching for the stallion’s name. ”Drakkar, would be eager to discuss possible diplomatic relationships between our kingdoms?” Luna looked at her sister showing the widest grin, and Celestia replied back with a smile as she rolled the parchment. “However,” she continued while turning around and walking towards her room, “we must seek Equestria’s well-being in the first place. We can’t afford ourselves to be biased in our decisions. I’ll send a chariot of Royal Guards to question him about his intentions.”

At her sister’s words, Luna’s ears perked up. “About that, we think that sending Shining Armor might be a better idea.”

Celestia stood motionless on the spot for a short while before turning to her sister with a raised eyebrow. “Sister, that’s going a bit too far,” she replied patiently. “Even if he’s a diplomat, sending the prince of the Crystal Empire is going overboard. Royal Guards would do just fine.”

“Sister, please, let us explain,” insisted Luna. Though Celestia showed a slightly annoyed grimace, she obliged with a nod. “Thou rememberest that Scandineighvians have a long military tradition. We consider that our former captain of the Royal Guard, who forced the changelings away from Equestria and helped defeat King Sombra, will be more highly regarded by him than any of the other soldiers. Besides,” she added as she moved her hoof forward, “if Shining Armor comes here, he can tell us about how everything’s going in the Crystal Empire.”

“So Drakkar might consider Shining Armor as an equal, experience-wise,” replied Celestia, slowly tapping her chin.

“Which would surely make him more eager to give away anything we need for the negotiations,” added Luna with a gracious smile.

“You have a point, my dear sister,” she admitted. “And having Shining Armor here to tell us about the progresses they’re making there would put some stress away.” With regal composure, Celestia offered the rolled up parchment to her sister. “Very well, send a chariot to the Crystal Empire. The pegasus Royal Guards will act as Shining Armor’s escort. You seem to remember more about Scandineighvia than I do, so give them everything you think that will help them. I trust you for this task,” she added with a confraternal smile. “One thing, though, sister.”

“We know,” interjected Luna, “We shall not be biased.”

-o-

After Mjǫllna left to return home, Drakkar had barely been able to move, walking clumsily towards Harry the Bear and falling asleep almost instantly by his side. As the first light of the sun bathed Equestria, Drakkar shut his eyes tightly, turning around and burying his head under Harry’s foreleg with a disgruntled groan. The gesture woke the bear up, who stood up with a long yawn and moved away, walking towards the trough. Grunting in anger as he covered his eyes with his hooves, he rolled under the tree to avoid direct sunlight. He slowly opened his eyes under the safe shadow the branches and leaves offered.

Aside from slightly sore eyes and a mild headache, he found himself not as awful as he expected to wake up, though he felt like he could use a couple extra hours of sleep.

“I should’ve asked Fluttershy to sleep inside this time,” complained Drakkar as he massaged his forehead. “The sunlight isn’t doing me any good.”

Gullin, who was sleeping close to him as he usually did, woke up at the sound of Drakkar’s voice, and began running around him with squeals of joy. Because they hadn’t played the previous day, the little wild boar was overly ecstatic, jumping on his chest and then down to the floor. The animal’s shows of affection helped Drakkar to get slightly better, snorting as he grabbed Gullin in a tender hug.

“Good morning to you too, little one,” greeted Drakkar, laughing as Gullin tickled him with his muzzle while oinking playfully. With some effort, he sat up on the grass leaning his back on the tree trunk, keeping Gullin wrapped around his fore legs like a foal. “I need you to go and get Fluttershy. She told me last night about a medicine for when I got up.” With a slow grunt and a painful grimace, he got a hoof on his head, which made Gullin react with a worried squeal. “Check if she’s awake and tell her to bring the medicine.”

Without a moment to lose, Gullin jumped out of Drakkar’s forelegs and darted towards Fluttershy’s cottage, scratching the door to call her attention. It didn’t take long for Fluttershy to open the door, letting Gullin in as she held a yawn.

“Oh, hello, Gullin,” greeted Fluttershy with half-closed eyes, following the little animal with her head. “I’m preparing your breakfast, so don’t worry, you’ll be able to eat in a moment.” However, Gullin shook his head, pushing Fluttershy outside. Though he wasn’t strong enough to move her, Fluttershy stepped forward, getting out of the cottage to see what he wanted, tripping a couple times but never falling to the ground. “What’s wrong, Gullin?” When the animal pointed at Drakkar, Fluttershy’s eyes widened as she remembered. “Oh, he’s up now! I’ll go make the medicine!”

As she darted inside again, Gullin sighed in relief, trotting towards Drakkar and resting by his side. Once Harry finished drinking, he also sat next to him, growling lowly by way of greeting. Keeping the volume down, they were able to talk for a few minutes until Fluttershy returned. After a short while, she slowly flew outside of the cottage, holding a small tray that held a bowl with what appeared to be a scalding infusion.

“Good morning, Drakkar,” said Fluttershy, tenderly offering him the tray. “I know it might be a bit hot, but this would help you recover.”

“Thank you, Fluttershy.” Drakkar slowly grabbed the bowl, pulling the hooves back at the scalding touch with a loud grunt. “By Sif’s golden mane, where did you bring this from, Múspelheimr?” complained Drakkar as he shook his hooves.

“Um… no?” asked Fluttershy with a confused stare. “I made it in the kitchen. Here, let me blow it so it cools down a bit.” She leaned forward and began blowing tenderly, almost letting out whistles when she did, letting a long yawn finish the cooling. She covered her face with a wing in the blink of an eye. “I’m sorry, I-I-I haven’t been able to get some sleep.” Without looking at him, she offered him the tray. “There, it should be better now. If you don’t want to burn your hooves, you might want to use your magic to lift it.”

With a quick nod, Drakkar magically levitated the bowl close to his muzzle and gave it a small sip, showing an exaggerated grimace of both pain due to the still hot beverage and disgust for the awful flavor. “This tastes like the eitr of Jǫrmungandr.”

“I… guess that’s a bad thing.” Fluttershy’s ears drooped and she lowered her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t change the flavor of my medicines.”

“No need to worry; medicine usually tastes bad, probably to make sure you won’t get sick again,” said Drakkar before bursting into laughter. He looked through the other of his eye to see that the comment had drawn a smile on Fluttershy’s face, which slightly relieved him. Taking a deep breath, he took another longer sip, showing again the same disgusted grimaces, but at least it wasn’t scalding hot anymore. “How’s Rainbow Dash, by the way?” he asked with concern. “She looked like she will need this more than me,” he said as she raised the bowl.

“Oh, well, we stayed with her until very late,” explained Fluttershy, sitting next to him. “Poor Dash, she spent almost an hour in the bathroom. I was so relieved when she was able to get some sleep.” As she finished speaking, Fluttershy massaged her forehead, leaning on the tree.

“You seem like you could use some too,” replied Drakkar as he finished the medicine, shaking his head violently at the horrendous taste shortly afterwards. “Didn’t you sleep last night?”

“I… I couldn’t,” admitted Fluttershy, looking down with her eyes almost closed. “I’m so worried about Rainbow Dash that I can’t even take a nap. I know Applejack’s taking care of her, but I need to see her perfectly fine to be calmed enough to get some sleep.”

“Why don’t you go to her place then?” asked Drakkar as he left the bowl and tray next to her. “If worry’s keeping you from sleeping, you should go check if she’s doing fine.” When he finished speaking the sentence, he slowly tapped the bowl. “Take the ingredients for the medicine with you; if she isn’t completely recovered, she should take it.”

“But you need somepony too,” insisted Fluttershy, resting a hoof on his shoulder. “Rainbow Dash needs me, but you’re also sick.”

“Fluttershy, this is far from the worst hangover I’ve gone through,” replied Drakkar with a laugh. “Besides, this medicine of yours would have me back to normal in no time. Rainbow Dash needs your assistance more than me.”

“Are you sure? I can bring you something else if you feel worse.” Fluttershy got up and took off, but Drakkar raised a hoof to interrupt her.

“I’m fine, Fluttershy, I don’t need anything.” After a short pause, his eyes widened for a brief moment as something seemed to come to mind. “Actually I do need something.”

“Sure, Drakkar, what is it?” asked Fluttershy as she slowly flapped towards her cottage. “A bath? Some food?”

To her surprise, though, Drakkar pointed at Harry, who looked at him with an equally dumbfounded expression. “I need to borrow your friend for a few minutes, if you don’t mind.”

“Harry? Why do you need him?” asked Fluttershy, the side effects from sleep deprivation momentarily fading away.

“I want to show Mjǫllna something I learned at home,” he said, slowly getting up and walking towards the bear.

“Well, I guess I don’t mind, but Harry must be okay with it too,” said Fluttershy. “Okay, I’m going to get the ingredients for the medicine and go to Sweet Apple Acres. You can talk to Harry about whatever you have in mind.”

“It’s okay, Fluttershy, I’m not going to cause harm to him,” assured Drakkar, slowly scratching behind Harry’s ear, to which the animal replied with a pleased growl.

After letting out another long yawn, Fluttershy slowly nodded. “Alright then, I’m going to get the things. See you tonight, then.”

Once she got into the cottage, Drakkar turned to Harry with a wide grin. “Harry, I know this sounds crazy, but I need your help to win a bet with Mjǫllna.” The bear’s ears perked up as he listened to the stallion with interest. “Okay, my ursine friend, this is what I need you to do.”

-o-

Following Vínviðr’s advice, Mjǫllna began working on the molds for the brooches while the forge heated up. Rarity had left the paper with the order there, which helped to make sure that the order would be ready before the deadline. Without hesitation, she darted to one of the shelves and took two small hollow wooden frames and a bag of clay. Taking a decent amount of it, she began reading Rarity’s note, carefully shaping it to resemble what was requested. Fortunately, the brooches she wanted were far from being extremely detailed, but they had very delicate parts that should be handed carefully during the molding process to avoid damaging them.

Ponyville was far from a town that needed blacksmiths, so earning a living as one was frustratingly hard. Canterlot had its own blacksmiths who took care of crafting and repairing the Royal Guards’ equipment, so Mjǫllna’s family had to focus in different specialties. At first, she didn’t want to learn jewelcrafting, but she grudgingly obliged in the end. Far from being her favorite practice, she knew that there was money there, and if they wanted to keep paying the bills, expanding their offer was a must. Mjǫllna ended up tolerating the art of crafting brooches and other decorative stuff, but she still felt out of her element regardless. She could spend thrice the time inscribing complex relieves or runes of any kind in armors and weapons, and she’d love every second of it. Doing the same thing in a piece of ornamental metal, however, felt tedious and frustrating, despite the patterns being much easier.

As she was about to start cooking the pattern, a strange shadow fell upon her. When she looked up, she took a few steps back when she recognized the royal chariot being pulled by two pegasus Royal Guards. From her place it was hard to identify whoever was on the vehicle, but she was able to when they maneuvered and landed close to her house. Both guards detached themselves from the chariot, saluting at Shining Armor as he stepped down. Mjǫllna reacted by putting everything aside and bowing, her forehead barely touching the floor.

“Pri-Prince Shining Armor,” stuttered Mjǫllna without looking up. “What brings you to my humble workshop?”

“You must be Mjǫllna,” said Shining Armor magnanimously, gesturing with his hoof upwards. “Please, such formalities aren’t necessary. We’ve come here because we know that somepony called Drakkar comes here on a daily basis.”

Mjǫllna’s ears perked up, her face changing from awe to fear in the blink of an eye. “Is he okay? What has happened? Why are you looking for him?”

Shining Armor stared at the mare with concern, noticing the worry she showed for the stallion. “He hasn’t done anything wrong; his presence here is a rare precedent, and the Princesses are interested in talking to him.”

With a long, relieved sigh, Mjǫllna recovered her composure and smiled weakly. “Well, if that’s all, he should be here soon. Do you need anything while you wait? Some water, maybe?”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” replied Shining Armor with a shake of his hoof. “If he’s going to be here in a moment, we won’t be here for long. If you don’t mind, could you talk about this Drakkar? We only know the fact that he’s Scandineighvian and a hoofcarl, which, according to Princess Luna, seems to be a military rank of some sorts.”

“Oh, of course, Prince Shining Armor, anything you need!” Mjǫllna looked at the clay-filled wooden frames through the corner of the eye, resting next to the pattern she had created. “Well, he’s a fairly large unicorn stallion, maybe a little bit taller than you, your majesty. He’s very athletic, and a skilled wrestler; I experienced that first-hoof,” she added with a giggle, to both guard’s surprise, who looked at each other through the corner of the eye. “His voice sounds like the coals burning at a forge, with a long, blonde mane that waves in the wind when he gallops.” She slowly bit her lip in anticipation as she remembered Drakkar. “And by Celestia does he have an amazing—”

Shining Armor cleared his throat loudly in order to interrupt Mjǫllna. “I think that’s enough. I’m sure we don’t need to hear anything else.“

”As you wish, your majesty,” she replied with a bow. “I was just talking about his appetite, though,” she added with a giggle. “You should’ve seen him at Sugarcube Corner; a living, bottomless pit!”

“Well, you said he should be here any minute now,” he said before the sound of screaming ponies reached their position. The four ponies’ ears perked up. “Guards, get in position!” ordered Shining Armor. Both pegasi extended their wings as they prepared to take off and charge forward. “Mjǫllna, get inside! We’ll take care of this.”

As she galloped towards the door, a roar resounded across the street, which made her grin widely. “That’s him!”

“Who?” asked Shining Armor.

“Cap… Captain?” called one of the guards. When Shining Armor turned to face him, the pegasus’ wings had lowered, and his face was frozen in sheer terror. “You… you have to see this,” he added, taking a step back, followed by his fellow guard.

“What are you talking about?” After asking the question, Shining Armor looked at the direction the guards were looking at, and his jaw dropped at the impossible scene. “What in Equestria…”

“Gef grið eigi!” shouted Drakkar ferociously from the distance.

The giant unicorn was riding Harry through the streets of Ponyville, though both were trying their best to avoid the ponies that were walking across it. Despite this, most bystanders galloped for their lives at the sight of the fearsome bear rider. Those that remained in their houses, however, as well as those that Drakkar passed, remained in a safe place watching the situation, completely befuddled. During a moment, Harry stopped running, standing on his hind legs and roaring to the sky, to which Drakkar reacted by using his own magic to roar at the same time, holding as tightly as possible to avoid falling.

“Sweet Celestia!” cried Mjǫllna, gasping in awe. “Drakkar!”

As she galloped towards the bear-riding stallion, Shining Armor was still staring at the scene, slowly coming back to his senses. “Did… did she just call him Drakkar? That is the pony we’ve come for?”

“The Princess didn’t tell us anything about this,” said one of the guards, doing his best to regain his composure.

“She did tell us that he would cooperate,” insisted Shining Armor in an attempt to calm the guards down. “Let me do the talking here.”

“Drakkar, I’m here!” called Mjǫllna as she galloped towards him.

“Hop on!” said Drakkar, stretching his hoof at her. Without hesitation, yet still having trouble to believe what was going on, Mjǫllna grabbed his front leg and he pulled her up. “Hold on tight, Mjǫllna!” he warned as she showed a satisfied beam. As soon as he finished speaking, Mjǫllna held him from the waist, her front legs wrapping him with a soft clench. “Ready?”

“Yes!” she replied, sticking even closer to him, softly giggling as his mane tickled her muzzle.

“Onwards then!” With another roar, Drakkar commanded Harry to resume his charge, which didn’t last too long due to being already quite close to the workshop.

Once they reached the place, Mjǫllna refused to get down from Harry. Instead, she pulled Drakkar back, their cheeks caressing as she rested her hoof on his chest.

“You really know how to make a mare feel unique,” she whispered into his ear, hot breath making Drakkar shiver slightly.

“Well, that’s what you get for betting with me,” replied Drakkar, winking at her.

“Yeah, but I thought you were going to come here and retell that kiss I gave you. I didn’t expect you to come to my house riding a bear!”

“I still won the bet, right?” he asked with a teasing grin.

“Oh, definitely!” Mjǫllna rested her hoof on his cheek, turning his head towards her so their lips could together in a passionate kiss. With her free hoof, she pressed his chest tightly, pulling him closer to her, whereas Drakkar toyed with her mane, caressing it and making large ringlets.

Both guards stared befuddled at each other, surprised at the sudden burst of affection both ponies were showing while riding a thousand pound carnivore. On the other hoof, Shining Armor raised an eyebrow, for this was something that Luna didn’t tell him about. Coming back to his senses, he regained the composure and cleared his throat before speaking.

“I really hate being a mood killer,” apologized Shining Armor as he took a step forward, ”but we’ve come here for you, Drakkar.”

Mjǫllna moved away slowly from Drakkar, shooting a concerned look at him as he opened his eyes. He, however, looked down to them, resting his weight on the bear’s back before jumping down. As his horn and throat glowed dimly, he let out a short growl to Harry, to which he lay down, making it easier for Mjǫllna to get down. After a second, longer growl followed by a short ear-scratching, the bear nodded and growled back before walking away.

Drakkar then faced the three stallions in front of him, taking a step forward as he showed a frown. He paid attention to the two pegasi at first; despite their metal armors, he noticed their bodies shaking slightly, and their eyes focusing on him, but in a forced way, as if they were doing the best to avoid running away. When he turned to the other unicorn, though, he looked completely different; he stood confident, and was returning the challenging stare at him. At this behavior, Drakkar nodded approvingly with a satisfied broken smile.

“And who are you to come looking for me, soldier?” asked Drakkar.

“Watch your mouth!” warned one of the pegasi. At those words, Drakkar turned to face the guard with the same challenging frown that he was using against Shining Armor. The pegasus Royal Guard, however, cowered slightly, forcing himself to keep eye contact with the Scandineighvian stallion. “Y-you’re talking to the Prince of the Crystal Empire and Captain of the Equestrian Royal Guard, Shining Armor!”

“Prince?” repeated Drakkar with a raised eyebrow.

“Konungsson,” translated Mjǫllna as she walked next to him. “He’s the ruler of the Crystal Empire, more like the Jarl of the place.”

“I see.” Drakkar returned his attention to Shining Armor, who stood bravely on the spot. After a short while, he nodded at him, pleased at the cold nerves he had shown. “Very well, I’ll go with you.”

“Soldiers, prepare the chariot; we’re going to Canterlot!” ordered Shining Armor. Both pegasi didn’t hesitate, getting on their place ready to take off at his command.

“Mjǫllna,” said Drakkar, turning to face her. “I’ll try to be back as soon as possible.”

“Everything’s going to be okay, trust me,” she replied. As Drakkar caressed her cheeks, she rested her face tenderly on his hoof, grabbing it with her own. “Take care; I’ll be here waiting for you.”

Drakkar pulled Mjǫllna close to him, planting a deep kiss on her, which she welcomed by tenderly wrapping her forelegs around his neck. After the short kiss, they barely moved away from each other. Drakkar gently rested his horn on her forehead, showing a comforting smile. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” When he saw her nodding at his words, he turned to the guards, her face becoming a frown once more. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

-o-

During the trip towards Canterlot, Drakkar looked around all the time, completely befuddled at everything that happened. Though chariots weren’t uncommon in Scandineighvia, using pegasi to carry other ponies through distances wasn’t. When they traveled past Cloudsdale, he understood, but at the same time he seemed to become even more shocked at the mere concept of a whole city in the clouds. The very thought of trying something like that in the Frozen North, with violent blizzards during winter, was preposterous at best.

Shining Armor seemed much less tense now that they were flying to Canterlot. No matter how much information Luna had given him, Drakkar was still an imposing stallion, especially at that moment, both sitting mere inches from each other. Mjǫllna wasn’t exaggerating when she said that he was large; the Scandineighvian pony was a couple inches taller and his build was slightly broader than Shining Armor. It was also true that, as Drakkar looked around like a colt at Sugarcube Corner, he seemed a bit less threatening, but his physical appearance was still something to take into account.

When Canterlot appeared far in the horizon, Drakkar leaned forward, staring at the castle with his mouth wide open. Even when he went to the castle of the konungr, it wasn’t as huge and mind-boggling as what they had in front of him. As they got closer, he came to appreciate the marble walls full of windows with colorful glasses representing scenes of what might’ve been Equestria’s past.

The pegasi landed close to the lowered drawbridge, bowing as Shining Armor got down and gestured for Drakkar to follow suit. As they walked through the main hall, the Royal Guards that were on duty couldn’t avoid staring at both ponies; the most discrete ones followed them with their eyes, while the rest simply turned to face them as soon as Shining Armor and Drakkar walked past them. During the time they spent going through the halls, Drakkar checked his mounting displeasure at the Equestrian soldiers' lack of discipline, not wishing to offend his host.

After a long while, both ponies reached an oaken door that Shining Armor opened nonchalantly. Still standing on the spot, he gestured with a hoof for Drakkar to come inside the room. The only things in that place were a couple chairs with a rectangle-shaped table in the middle, which a chandelier containing three half-melted candles.

“Take a seat,” offered Shining Armor without looking away from Drakkar, who slowly let himself fall on the sturdy wooden chair. He followed suit, sitting right in front of him, staring at the Scandineighvian stallion in the eyes.

“Why have you brought me here, Konungsson?” grunted Drakkar with forced politeness, with his front hooves crossed and resting on his chest.

“I am not here as the Prince of the Crystal Empire, Hoofcarl,” corrected Shining Armor calmly, “but as the Captain of the Royal Guard.”

“Is Mjǫllna—”

“She isn’t part of this, Hoofcarl, so she’ll be fine,” interjected Shining Armor with a raised hoof, to Drakkar’s surprise. “I’m a married stallion,” he added with a confraternal smile, “so I’m well aware of your concern. Rest assured, though, for we don’t take civilians in these cases. The sooner we finish with this, the sooner we both will both return with our mares.” Shining Armor sounded blunt, but not threatening. With those words, Drakkar replied with a slight nod. “Concerning your question, you’re here because you’re the first Scandineighvian pony to openly interact with Equestria since—”

“Since Gleipna moved here about a century ago,” completed Drakkar, to which Shining Armor replied with a raised eyebrow. “I learned about that recently too, but there was a mare from our land who settled in Equestria. In Ponyville, to be more accurate.”

“How do you know that?” inquired Shining Armor.

“Mjǫllna’s her descendant,” replied Drakkar, making Shining Armor lose his composure for a fraction of a second as he stared with widened eyes. Drakkar’s lips drew a satisfied smile at his reaction. “She’s Gleipna’s great-granddaughter, if you require more details.”

“And there’s no other way anypony would’ve known about this Gleipna, right?” insisted Shining Armor.

“Concerning your surprise when I mentioned her, I’m assuming that both you and whoever gave us all the information regarding us thought that I’m the first Scandineighvian pony to interact with Equestria.” At Drakkar’s statement, Shining Armor nodded slowly. “But back to the main point. I’m here because…”

“We want to make sure that you’re not here to plan a hostile takeover,” replied Shining Armor. “We’ve been suffering a lot of attacks from different places, one of the most recent being the changeling invasion.”

To those words, Drakkar’s ears perked up. “That sounds familiar. That might explain why Bifrǫst thought that I was a changeling spy.” He slowly became serious, gazing at Shining Armor with increasing curiosity. “Were you there during the invasion?”

“I was,” he replied with a nod. Remembering Luna’s words, he hit his chest proudly before moving on. “Not only that, but I expelled the invading force with my wife’s help.”

“The stuff of legends,” admitted Drakkar with an approving nod. “I noticed from the very first moment that you were different from the other two soldiers that were with you.”

“What do you mean?” inquired Shining Armor.

Noticing what he had done, Drakkar shook his hoof hastily with a shocked expression. “Nothing relevant to what we’re talking about.”

Shining Armor tapped the table with a hoof, staring at him with a raised eyebrow. “Hoofcarl, I understand that you have a problem with the Equestrian military?” Drakkar’s ears drooped, as if he knew Shining Armor had caught him. However, instead of becoming hostile, he raised both hooves, gesturing for Drakkar to calm down. “Hoofcarl, I expect you to answer every question I ask you. What do you mean I’m different from the other guards? You have my word that I won’t retaliate.”

The promise seemed to soothe Drakkar, as he took a deep breath and, after another moment of silence, he looked up and spoke. “I noticed that the soldiers had the discipline you expect from military training. However,” he continued while shaking his head, “they seemed to lack experience in battle. I get that, despite the changeling invasion, Equestria appears to be a peaceful kingdom.”

“And you thought that would offend me?” insisted Shining Armor, but Drakkar’s nod was all he needed as an answer. “Don’t worry about that; we’re a fairly peaceful kingdom, as you correctly assumed, having only a serious conflict once in a Blue Moon. I’m concerned, though,” he added, slowly sounding less formally. “Is Scandineighvia that much of a military kingdom?”

“We’re battle-born ponies, Captain,” replied Drakkar, leaning back slightly. “And not without a reason. We constantly patrol our borders to fight packs of úlfsvetir that try to attack us. And then,” he added with a frown that made Shining Armor shiver, “we have our enemy; the Manegols.”

Shining Armor stared speechless at Drakkar for a short while. Even though he tried to repeat the word ‘Manegols’, words didn’t come out. However, Drakkar noticed the word through his lips, and nodded at the voiceless question. After coming back to his senses, Shining Armor shook his head and hooves. “But that’s impossible! The Manegol Empire split over five centuries ago,” said Shining Armor, still shocked.

“The Manegol Empire split, right,” repeated Drakkar. “But the four tribes in which it divided still fight against us; Bogi, Brandr, Geirr and Hamarr. We don’t understand the names they use, but due to the fact that each tribe uses a primary weapon that the original khan used, we call them by the name of those weapons. For what we know,” continued Drakkar as he leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table, “when the Great Khan was about to die, he offered to each of his four sons a masterwork weapon from his very own arsenal, and demanded his children to use them to guide Manegolia to victory against Scandineighvia.”

“That Great Khan sure held a grudge on your country,” replied Shining Armor as he kept paying attention at Drakkar.

“Well, there’s a reason for that. You see,” explained Drakkar, slowly getting lost on the storytelling, “centuries ago, Scandineighvia was just a village, with a lot of neighboring villages that helped and traded with each other. And far away, the Manegols used to send skirmishes against us. We usually didn’t have problems dealing with them, and we ended up handling the situation. They were also our primary target for our own raids, anyways,” added Drakkar with a shrug. “This took place during centuries, growing into an unending rivalry. They wanted to unite the North under the Manegol banner, though they would allow us to keep our traditions if we surrendered and swore fealty to them, be it before or after the battle took place. Suffice to say,” he added with a smirk, “that we weren’t going to give up our ancestral banners without a fight.”

The reports Shining Armor had read concerning questionings the Royal Guards had done before didn’t prepared him for his. He expected to be getting a few answers and call it a day, but this reminded him more and more to those nights back at the academy, with the veterans telling war stories. However, no matter how common it was for them to put up with a made up story and force the suspect to confess the bluff, there was something in Drakkar, be it the safety in his words or the satisfaction in his eyes when he spoke, that kept Shining Armor from thinking he was making up the story on the run.

“Everything kept the same way until one day, about five hundred years ago; a Khan from one of the tribes threw a challenge to all the other tribe’s khans. For every fight he won, he’d take the leadership of that ruler’s tribe. The edda sings that he defeated every single khan, and got all Manegolian tribes under his banner, naming himself Great Khan.” Drakkar slowly became more imposing, speaking louder while using a slightly threatening voice and gesturing more with his hooves to emphasize his already convincing story. “Legends describe him being the size of an ox and cunning as a fox, with a gifted mind for military tactics and leadership. No attacks happened in Scandineighvia or the other villages for years, decades even, so our ancestors were concerned about what might be happening there.” Drakkar suddenly shut down his joyful emotions and gestures, staring at Shining Armor with a grim frown. “Then the Manegol Horde came.”

Shining Armor barely moved a muscle, listening to every word Drakkar said with great interest. With his training as a skáld, and the attachment to the tale he was telling, his words filled the room with a heartwarming sensation, as if whatever he said was taking place right now. As Drakkar continued with the tale, Shining Armor’s ears perked up, glancing around the room as if he were hearing hoofsteps and war cries.

“Tens of thousands of Manegols traveled across the mountainous lands, using magic to avoid being spotted, summoning mists to cover their advance. But the Æsir smiled upon us, for our seers noticed the unnatural phenomenon and were able to react before it was too late. Words about the upcoming attack spread quickly among the neighboring villages,” continued Drakkar, waving his hooves to emphasize his words, “and we gathered an army with every recruit we had available. Aid from the farthest villages arrived after the battle had already started, serving as reinforcements in the last days of the war, when both sides were exhausted and every casualty was making a noticeable difference.”

With an overly enthusiastic laugh, Drakkar pounded the table with both hooves, waking Shining Armor up from the charm of the story for a fraction of a second. Though they had obviously gone totally off-topic, he wasn’t able to interrupt him, and not only for being hooked to the story, but also because he could see himself in Drakkar. He remembered the letters he wrote to his parents when he joined the Royal Guards, telling them with full detail everything he did there, and even the most boring activities were explained with such enthusiasm that, to his parent’s eyes, they might’ve been heroic one-of-a-kind deeds. And there he was, in front of a stallion who was telling a story that took place half a millennium ago, but looked like he just returned from the battlefield, and he wasn’t even there to begin with. Princess Luna was right about both Drakkar and himself being equals, but he began to wonder if she was aware of the large amount of similarities they shared.

“I wish I would’ve been there!” exclaimed Drakkar with a wide grin. “Even the Æsir witnessed the war from Ásgarðr. The songs say that, every day during the war, rainless thunderstorms covered the sky. The mighty Þórr cheered us, his worshippers, and guided us to victory! Not even the clashing of weapons against mail and shields or the screams of anger and pain were able to silence the storm! He even summoned winds to guide the Manegols’ arrows away from us, and allow our bowponies to reach the backlines of their armies to lessen the impact of upcoming reinforcements! In fact, many arrows landed on the Great Khan, but he was nigh unstoppable. We began to fear that he was invincible, a spawn of the jǫtnar that had taken command of the Manegols tribes against us. It took not only more than a dozen arrows, but five deep spear wounds to take that behemoth down.”

“Wait a moment,” interjected Shining Armor, fearing to have found an inconsistency in his story. “You said that the Great Khan offered a weapon to each of his sons before he died.”

“And he did,” replied Drakkar with an approving nod. “What we gathered during our centuries of war against Manegols, among other things, is that everything comes to a sudden halt when a Khan is about to die. He must be in his homeland, as well as every Manegolian of the tribe. With him being the Great Khan who led all the tribes meant that every single Manegol pony should be there, and the fight was over as he fell in battle. We stopped attacking as they raised their weapons, offering them time to gather their fallen brothers in arms and bury them, and so did we.”

“You… you stopped attacking them? That’s… quite a courageous thing to do.” Shining Armor blinked in astound. “You risked a lot there. Who knows what would’ve happened!”

Drakkar calmly shook his head. “They are far from savages, and no matter how obsessed they grew with forcing us under the Manegol banner, they still have us in high regard and never underestimate us. We know when they want to stop fighting, and we respect them, for we learned that they never use underhoofed tactics. If there’s something we have to say about Manegols is that they would be more than welcomed as allies. However, they don’t want to ally with us; they want to absorb us.”

“Apparently Manegols aren’t the only ones who regard Scandineighvians highly,” admitted Shining Armor with a satisfied nod. “It looks like the feeling is mutual.”

“The Great Khan, even five hundred years after his death, stands as the greatest threat we’ve ever faced. Manegols mourned him saying that, with his fall, had come a never ending winter for them. Winter is a season that, in their culture, symbolizes sadness and death, and the Great Khan was greatly respected for all he’d done. Fearing his children’s vengeful retaliation, we decided to join forces permanently, forming the kingdom we have now. When they found out, they always referred to us as ‘eternal winter’ due to what we represented for them. That’s why we decided to name our kingdom Fimbulvetr, which means ‘eternal winter’ in our language.” Drakkar shrugged at his own words with a smirk. “To be fair, though, due to our village being the largest of them all, we originally called the kingdom Scandineighvia, and we use both names to refer to it.” Drakkar slowly shook his head with a sorrowful frown. “It’s a pity that his children didn’t follow his legacy.”

“They’re the reason why the Manegol Empire split?” inquired Shining Armor.

“That’s right,” replied Drakkar with a nod. “Each son had a different way of thinking and leading, and the sympathizers followed the one who they considered more adequate according to their points of view. In the end, unable to rule the vast empire their father had formed, mostly due to inner conflicts, they decided to divide it in four greater khanates. There hasn’t been another pony able to unite them again and fight under a common ruler.” With a disappointed huff, he looked at the ceiling. “Manegolia has gone through a lot, and we owe them the founding of our kingdom. Seeing what they’ve become, I can’t avoid feeling pity for them.”

“It’s understandable. Now, I’m afraid that we’ve gone quite off-topic,” said Shining Armor with a snicker. “If you don’t mind, we should talk about the reason why you’re here and the possibilities of an alliance between both kingdoms.”

Drakkar’s eyes widened at his words. “Captain, I’m not qualified to do that. I can tell you why I’m here, but I’m a soldier, not a diplomat. I have no voice regarding that. Look,” he continued as he gestured exaggeratedly with his hooves, “I came here to gather information about Equestria, just as other hoofcarlar have been doing since Scandineighvian’s recorded history.”

“Then why didn’t the others interact with us before?”

“I don’t know,” replied Drakkar with a shrug. “We barely know about Equestrian culture, so chances are that they focused solely on checking cities.”

“And you’ve moved to a different approach because…”

“At… at first I wasn’t going to be different from the others,” admitted Drakkar, looking down at the table. “But then I heard about Mjǫllna, and I wanted to know about her. I knew her name was like the ones at home, and I needed to know what she was doing in Equestria.”

“One thing lead to another and, by the time you noticed, you two started dating,” added Shining Armor with a brotherly smile.

“I… yes, that’s pretty much what it happened.” Drakkar looked up to meet Shining Armor, who was nodding at him while tapping the table with a hoof.

“Well, I met my wife because she was my sister’s filly-sitter,” replied Shining Armor with a chuckle. “So yeah, I know how that feels. Back to our conversation, however,” he continued, returning to a serious expression, “even if you’re not qualified to take care of this, you might know what might create bonds between our kingdoms, and then give it to your ruler.”

“It’s a possibility.” Drakkar looked at the ceiling, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Considering how long I’m going to stay here due to all the reports I’ll have to fill about everything in Equestria, they’d like something more aside from them.”

“The Princesses are looking forward to seeing you,” said Shining Armor, leaning back on the chair. “And to be honest, I agree with Luna; you don’t pose a threat aside from your…” Shining Armor remained speechless for a moment, trying to come up with the adequate words before suddenly shaking his head and hooves. “Okay, seriously, what was all that about? The thing with the bear, I mean.”

“Oh, that!” said Drakkar, bursting into laughter. “I’m terribly sorry for what happened. You see, Mjǫllna challenged me about remembering something after last night’s drinking contest.”

“And you talked about riding bears?” Shining Armor nodded as he crossed his hooves in front of him. “To be fair, that’s something difficult to forget.”

“Yeah, bear riders are our Scandineighvian elite cavalry, but anyways, I—”

“Wait, wait, time out!” demanded Shining Armor, leaning forward in awe. “You have a military unit that consists on stallions riding bears into battle? And you are one of those?”

“Oh, no, not at all, I don’t have the resources to join that unit, as all the training and mounting gear is really expensive. Though it’s true that I’ve ridden bears as part of drunken challenges,” admitted Drakkar with a snicker.

“That deserves even more credit, if you ask me,” replied Shining Armor with a laugh. “That actually reminds me of a prank some of the veterans played on me and some of the new recruits. You see…”

-o-

Both Princesses sat patiently in the main hall, waiting for Shining Armor to bring a report concerning Drakkar’s intentions. Neither of them expected the questioning to last so long, though it was true that getting up to date after more than a thousand years without interactions was time-consuming at best.

Luna was lucky enough to be able to entertain herself for a while when it became late enough for her to bring the night, and Celestia returned to witness the wonders of her sister’s job. For the time spent setting the night sky, both mares were able to keep this situation out of their heads, the only thing that irritated Luna mildly were the clouds that covered most of Equestria that day. This was barely an issue, for she remembered by heart where every star should be at any given season. It still was a mild annoyance when she wanted to enjoy the fruits of her labor, though, but she couldn’t demand the weather ponies to keep the night sky clear forever.

Once Luna was done with her duty, she returned to her place next to her sister.

“They are taking their time,” said Celestia, staring at the closed door in front of them with deep concern. “I’m starting to think that this wasn’t a good idea.”

“Please, sister, we’re sure that everything’s fine.” Luna tapped the small table with a hoof, looking at her sister through the corner of the eye. “Shining Armor is a competent soldier; we don’t think that it only took a few days of marriage to rust his skills completely.”

“Even so, why did you insist on leaving Shining Armor alone with Drakkar?” inquired Celestia. ”I understand not having a few guards escorting both of them; it would be uncomfortable for him. However, you demanded that there shouldn’t even be left behind guarding the door.”

“Shining Armor’s the only soldier required,” said Luna with a wide grin. “Hast thou considered what we could export to Scandineighvia?”

“I can’t say I’ve dedicated as much time as you asked,” admitted Celestia mournfully. “We don’t know what they need or what they’d be willing to offer that we might need. Besides, if they’re self-sufficient as we are, chances are that they might not consider an alliance.”

“Thou art very pessimistic, sister,” replied Luna with a grunt.

“I am realistic, Luna,” corrected Celestia, mildly annoyed at her sister’s reaction. “This is not like hoofspunching a friend; alliances are about helping each other. If they’re at war, it is our moral duty to assist. During famines and droughts, we must try to give them sustenance. And if you can’t provide it, you’re—”

“Too busy with our own problems or lack resources to give away,” finished saying Luna.

“You assume that they’ll be understandable,” said Celestia with a raised eyebrow.

“Thou assumest that they won’t,” replied Luna, her smile slowly turning into a sad grimace. “Thou thinkest that they’re a kingdom of starving ponies that are going to be depending on us since the moment we sign our alliance. But thou hast to remember the opulent feast they prepared on our honor. They have enough resources to live on their own; they would’ve sought our assistance before if they didn’t.” Luna rested her hoof on her sister’s, showing a weak smile as she continued speaking. “Thou shouldstn’t worry.”

Celestia looked at her sister with slightly sad eyes, Luna’s smile slowly showing in her own face as well. “I just…” She looked away, closing her eyes, but opened them the moment she felt Luna’s hoof tenderly clenching hers. “I just don’t know if we’ll be able to be worthy allies. We might not be able to fulfill requests or assist when they request us something. Equestria is our kingdom, sister,” she added, turning to face Luna once more. “It’s our responsibility not only to rule it accordingly, but also to keep the relationships with our allies optimal.”

“Thou art overthinking it, sister,” comforted Luna with a wink. “We haven’t signed anything yet, and we don’t know what they’d want from us. It anything,” she added as she chuckled, “we should let you worry after the meeting.”

“I’m concerned about Shining Armor, Luna. We haven’t heard about him during the whole day.” As Celestia finished the sentence, both Princesses perked up their ears at the sound of two ponies laughing across the hall, noticeable even with the doors closed. “What’s going on?” she asked with a raised eyebrow as she flew towards the door. Luna followed suit, standing next to her as each sister magically pulled a side of the door open. What they saw in front of them was by far one of the most unexpected events to witness. Shining Armor, along with a pony that seemed to fit into Drakkar’s description, were chatting as they walked towards them without paying attention to them, noisily laughing as they shared some kind of anecdotes.

“And then Megin-gjarð rushed towards the other stallion,” said Drakkar, thrusting the air with a hoof as Shining Armor did her best not to burst into laughter yet, “but he tripped and fell on the banquet table, breaking it in half. You should’ve seen all the food flying and scattering all across the room. Not even my Hoofcarl companion Veiða could resist the urge of ducking to take cover, and that’s a stallion who doesn’t even blink at the sight of a pack of úlfsvetir charging at him!”

“Wait, wait,” interjected Shining Armor with a low snicker, “was that before or after the drinking contest?”

“I got hit by a horn in the back of the head myself, so I’m assuming it was after. When he got up in a horrible mood, the grabbed one of the halves of the table and bashed the other pony, with the rest of the guests trying to separate them.”

“And everything started because that stallion called your friend Megin-gjarð a…“ Shining Armor tried his best to remember, but the laughter didn’t allow him. “What was the word again?”

“Argr,” replied Drakkar. “If you ever go to Scandineighvia, you should never say that to a stallion; you’ll get smacked with half a banquet table.”

“Point taken.” Both stallions laughed, unaware of the two Princesses standing several fit in front of them. “Okay, we’re almost here, we should get serious now. I’m going to—” Shining looked forward to meet both Celestia and Luna. The former gazed nonchalantly at the blushing Captain, while her sister tried her best to contain her giggling. With a quick clear of his throat, Shining Armor regained his composure, while Drakkar looked up at both Princesses with widened eyes.

“Hrim-Faxi! Skin-Faxi!” said Drakkar right before prostrating in front of them.

“Well, that’s new,” replied Shining Armor with a raised eyebrow.

“Allow us, Captain.” Luna extended her wings, looking down to Drakkar. “Rís, Hófkarl. Konungsdóttir Luna býð þann,” demanded Luna with a satisfied grin. Both Shining Armor and Celestia looked at her in awe, while Drakkar looked up with the widest smile he could show. “Hræddr ver eigi, Drakkar.”

“Hví... hví þit foerið mik hér, Konungsdóttir Luna?” asked Drakkar, keeping his head lowered in respect.

“Can… can somepony please tell me what’s going on?” inquired Shining Armor, scratching the back of his neck as he started at both ponies in mild confusion.

“We told him to get up and that he shouldn’t be afraid,” translated Luna with a nod. “He then asked why we asked him to come here.”

“I only caught a few chunks of the conversation,” admitted Celestia.

“You understand them, Princess?” asked Shining Armor with a curious grimace..

“Luna and I visited Scandineighvia centuries ago, but apparently my sister’s much better at learning different languages than I am.”

“Sister, try introducing thyself to him,” said Luna.

“Luna, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her sister’s pleading eyes, however, ended up changing her mind. Resting a hoof on her chest, she spoke. “Ek vera Celestia, ok ek leiða með systir Luna.”

Drakkar stared at Celestia, completely dumbfounded. “Hvat þú segr?”

“What I what?” Celestia seemed to be trying at best to understand, but failed to understand the sentences completely.

“He asked what thou said,” corrected Luna with a soft giggle. “We are afraid that you forgot about declension, my dear sister.”

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” repeated Celestia. “What’s he going of think of me now?”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Your Highness,” replied Drakkar with a gentle bow. “I really appreciate the effort you’ve made.”

“Old Equestrian has much more in common with Scandineighvian as a language than Modern Equestrian,” explained Luna. “Grammar-wise, they have several points in common, the most important one being declensions, though having different conjugations for every person in all verbs doesn’t help to make it easier either,” she added with a snort. “But yes, as she said, Celestia and we are sisters, and both rule Equestria together.” Luna moved away from the door, gesturing for both stallions to get inside. “Please, come in. There are things we must discuss. But first, we would like to show you a little something, Hófkarl.”

The small group walked towards the balcony, with Luna leading them. Celestia stared at the table where they were supposed to be discussing the diplomatic relationships. Though she tried to move there, Luna kept guiding both stallions in the other direction. Celestia wanted this to finish soon, and lowly grunted to herself, her sister could barely contain herself. News of Drakkar coming had obviously lightened up her mood, and the way Drakkar was reacting made her even happier, which was enough for Celestia to be patient with all that was going on.

Luna stepped on the balcony and extended her wings as much as she could, forcing Drakkar and Shining Armor to walk back.

“Thou shalt see, Hófkarl,” announced Luna with a confident smirk.

“What’s going to happen?” asked Drakkar lowly, to which Shining Armor replied with a shrug.

Luna remained silent for a moment, with her eyes closed as she seemed to focus. Her breathing became much deeper, and soon her horn began to glow with mild intensity, slowly becoming brighter as time passed.

“Looks like she’s going to move the stars in some way,” replied Shining Armor. “But don’t take my word on that.”

When Shining Armor stopped whispering, Luna opened her eyes and lowered the head, her horn aiming at the cloudy sky. “HIMINN!” cried Luna with the Royal Canterlot Voice.

Drakkar’s jaw dropped as his ears perked up and his eyes widened. “It can’t be,” were the only mute words that his lips were able to muster.

“VÁR SUMARR!” As Luna finished chanting the odd spell, the raw energy accumulated in her horn sprayed forward like a mighty wave, disintegrating every cloud that it touched, clearing the night sky in the blink of an eye. “Oops,” she said as she began to blush slightly. “We… might have gone a bit overboard with this.”

“I’m sure that this is nothing that a letter to the weather factory can’t handle,” interjected Celestia as she walked next to her sister. “Next time, though, try to be less showy, my dear,” she added with an impish smile.

“What in Equestria was that?” asked Shining Armor, still unable to believe what he had witnessed.

“That’s… magic. Scandineighvian magic,” replied Drakkar. “We usually call it battle-crying, but it’s basically the spells we use there.”

“But what you did in Ponyville didn’t have any sort of words of power,” insisted Shining Armor.

“That spell’s different,” explained Drakkar. “What she’s done is what we actually call magic. You see, we channel energy to our horns, raw magic power, and then we chant the words that modify the magic energy into whatever the spell was designed to do. The power of the spell depends entirely on the amount of raw magic accumulated when the words are chanted. Or something like that,” added Drakkar as he gestured with his hoof, shaking it next to his head. “To be honest, I never studied magic in my homeland.”

“But you can do the roaring spell; I saw you doing it.”

“That doesn’t count,” insisted Drakkar. “It isn’t considered magic for the same reason using your innate magic to move objects around isn’t either.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s something natural, like pegasi’s flying and earth ponies’ sturdiness,” he explained. ”Now, to bend elements to do your bidding and alter the word around you, that’s what we call magic.”

“I don’t get it, Drakkar,” insisted Shining Armor. “Why wouldn’t you want to learn magic?”

“Because, according to Scandineighvian society,” replied Luna with a shake of her head, “only mares can learn magic without becoming a laughingstock.”

Drakkar’s ears drooped at her words, giving a barely noticeable nod. “We… we have our roles set. Stallions are warriors, and mares can use their magic to support us in the battlefield.”

“That doesn’t mean that mares can’t decide to take up arms or stallions can’t learn magic. However,” continued Luna with a proud smile, “it is also true that the former are much more common than the latter.”

Shining Armor looked at Drakkar, who stared at the marble tiles on the floor without looking up. “Drakkar, is everything alright?”

“I… just don’t feel comfortable, that’s all.” From his position, he prostrated to Luna, his horn touching the floor. “I am astounded by your vast knowledge of my culture, Princess Luna, but I’d rather not talk about this specific point. I’ve been scolded a few times for that.”

“We are not to judge, Hófkarl,” replied Luna with a frown as Celestia took her seat on the table. “Moreso, the fact that those who defy the established order and succeed in the opposite role earn the expected respect from their peers is enough evidence that thou art not tyrants. We are surprised, though, that thou know about magic but have never tried it, not even in private.”

“Please, sister,” interjected Celestia, offering the other ponies their seats. “We should focus in what it’s important. Drakkar, do take a seat.”

Drakkar slowly walked towards the table, sitting down as he looked around him with a worried grimace. Though he seemed to be calming down, his deep breathing proved otherwise.

“As Shining Armor has surely informed you,” started Celestia, “we have considered the possibilities of forming an alliance between both kingdoms,” she said, looking at Luna through the corner of the eye, “and we were interesting in your opinion.”

With a long sigh, Drakkar nodded at the Princess’ statement, looking at her with a contemplative expression. “I am well aware of your thoughts, and I really appreciate your offer. However, I still don’t know enough about Equestria to bring this possibility to my konungr.” He slowly glanced through the table, noticing the expectant looks of the other ponies. “We are a self-sufficient kingdom, so chances are that you could offer us certain commodities we can’t get on our own, but the point is: what can we do for Equestria?” To those words, Celestia’s ears perked up as Luna leaned towards her.

“That sounds pretty familiar, dostn’t thou agree?” joked Luna with a whisper.

“We are warriors, farmers and hunters; the polar opposite of anything I’ve seen here so far,” continued Drakkar. “I’m not sure if we have anything to offer that you would need. And allies help each other, just like we helped each other when Fimbulvetr was just a bunch of independent neighboring villages. As I said, I don’t know enough about Equestria yet to know what we could bring to you; and we Scandineighvians want to support those who wish to become our allies.”

“We are in the same ship then, Drakkar,” admitted Celestia, showing a comfortable beam for the first time in the whole day. “My sister seems to be quite knowledgeable about your culture and language, but it’s also true that we haven’t visited the Frozen North in more than a thousand years.” Celestia got up from the table, walking in circles around it. “If it’s true what she told me about the concept of… correct me if I’m wrong, but I think the word was… drengskapr?”

“Correct, Your Highness,” replied Drakkar with a nod while smiling. “It means ‘honor’.”

“The love you show for your land and the concern about its well-being is a virtue that I appreciate in ponies,” started Celestia. “I’m not going to lie to you; I’ve had that very same concern about our possible alliance. Our knowledge about the current state of the kingdom of Scandineighvia is fairly limited. However, I’m going to do this right, for both of us.”

Drakkar leaned forward, following Celestia with his eyes. “I’m listening.”

“Has Captain Shining Armor, by any chance, mentioned her sister, Twilight Sparkle?”

“I think he did,” said Drakkar, looking at the stallion. “Isn’t she the one your wife used to filly-sit?” Shining Armor replied with a nod, and Luna couldn’t hold a giggle at Drakkar’s question.

“Looks like thou art getting along quite well,” said Luna with a broad grin.

“I’ll tell you what I have in mind, Drakkar,” continued Celestia. “Twilight Sparkle is my personal and faithful student, and I trust her judgment and wisdom. I want you to work together in this. If you want to write a complete essay about Equestrian culture to make sure Scandineighvia knows who they are going to befriend and to satisfy your own curiosity, she’s the perfect pony for you. You’ll have to tell her everything you can about your kingdom, so we’ll know more about your kinfolks.” From her spot, she magically opened one of the cupboards far away, pulling out a bright piece of paper and offering it to Drakkar. “This is a ticket for the Grand Galloping Gala,” she said with a smile. “Twilight would be our mediator during the negotiations. During the gala, we’ll make the announcement of our alliance official, if it’s bound to happen.”

“I appreciate the gift, Your Highness,” replied Drakkar with a deep bow. “But what if, for some reason, an alliance doesn’t seem… beneficial for both kingdoms, so to speak?”

“In that case, I’ll still like you to assist, for our land is hospitable and I’d gladly have you here as your host.”

“If I may, Your Majesty,” interjected Shining Armor, bowing respectfully, “I’m sure that Drakkar might like to bring a companion with him to the gala.” He looked at Drakkar askance to see him blush furiously.

“Captain, I… don’t think it’s appropriate,” replied Drakkar, lowering his head timidly.

“Why isn’t it?” he asked with a shrug. “I bet that Mjǫllna will love assisting, and considering the short time it will take to make the alliance official in case it happens, you still have time to spend some time with her. Just hope that nothing odd happens and ruins it,” he added with a laugh.

“Mjǫllna?” repeated Luna with a raised eyebrow. “Drakkar, didst thou bring thy spouse with thee?”

“Oh, no, not at all! She’s a mare in Ponyville, actually,” replied Drakkar, lowly getting redder by the second.

“His fillyfriend, descendant of a Scandineighvian mare who settled here by the time Ponyville was founded,” added Shining Armor, much to Drakkar’s surprise.

“Oh, this is actually quite interesting,” admitted Luna, turning to her sister. “Celestia, we might be able to study the mixture of both kingdoms’ cultures and the possibilities of adaptation to different climates. We think she should come too.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You just made that up on the run, didn’t you?” Her sister looked away, letting out a snicker.

“We wanted to meet her too,” confessed Luna.

“You could’ve simply said that,” replied Celestia with a chuckle. “Very well, since Drakkar’s coming here as a diplomat representing Scandineighvia,” she said as she reopened the cupboard, “I consider it perfectly agreeable to allow an escort.”

“Your generosity knows no bounds, Your Highness,” complimented Drakkar, prostrating on the floor while showing a wide grin covered behind his mane.

“I’ll be looking forward Twilight’s reports concerning Scandineighvia,” said Celestia as she magically offered him the second time. “Captain Shining Armor, Hoofcarl Drakkar,” she called, getting both stallions attention. “You may leave; the meeting is over for now.”

-o-

The forge remained cold at Mjǫllna’s smithy, and everything had been tidied up. After finishing the patterns and molds for the brooches, and having had lunch, she stayed outside, staring at Canterlot in hopes to see the chariot where Drakkar left. During the whole day she sat there, concern growing inside her the longer it took him to return. Despite Shining Armor’s word that there was nothing wrong, the lack of news began to make her think otherwise.

The smithy’s door opened as Vínviðr walked outside with a purple blanket on her back and a small bulk on one of her saddlebags.

“Mjǫllna, my dear,” she called as she walked closer to her. “You’re going to catch a cold out here.”

“I told him that I’d wait here for him,” replied Mjǫllna before looking back at her grandmother. “How many comments has mother made about Drakkar having left to never return or that he’s under arrest for whatever reason?”

“That’s not relevant, Mjǫllna,” she said as she threw the blanket over her granddaughter. Then, she opened the saddlebag, taking out a small bag of flowery treats and biscuits. “I’m, sure you’ll be hungry, so I baked a few of your favorites. You can wait for him, but I’m not letting you starve here,” she added with a chuckle.

“Thanks, granny,” said Mjǫllna with a sweet smile. “He should be back any minute now.”

“Don’t worry, Mjǫllna; if he told you he’d return, his honor binds him to do so.”

“I know, granny. That’s why I’m here.”

“Do you want me to stay with you for a moment to make you company?” insisted Vínviðr.

“It’s okay, granny, it’s getting cold out here,” said Mjǫllna, resting a hoof on her grandmother’s shoulder. “You should get inside, though.”

“These not-so-old bones of mine aren’t weak yet,” she replied with a playful grunt. “But okay, I wouldn’t like to ruin your moment together, lovebirds. I’m going for a walk, though; I’ve been sitting all day and my legs need some stretching.”

With those words, Vínviðr walked away from the workshop, getting to the main street, barely coming across anypony. Most of the shops were already closed, save for one. In the distance, she recognized Carousel Boutique, the only building with the lights still on. When she glanced through the window, she saw Rarity sitting on the table, surrounded by parchments spread all over it. On the floor, the bin was overflowing with crumpled paper balls, several of them having fallen out and spread across the room. Having a slight idea about what she was going through and why, Vínviðr knocked on the window to call her attention. Rarity looked up and, with a forced smile, pointed at the door with a ‘closed’ sign on it. When Vínviðr knocked on the window, Rarity let out a frustrated huff, taking a deep breath before leaving the quill on the table and getting up, slowly walking to the door. Vínviðr took a step back as the door opened.

“I’m terribly sorry, madame,” said Rarity with tired eyes. “But, as you can see, the boutique’s closed now. If you need a dress, please come tomorrow.”

“I didn’t come looking for a dress, young lady,” replied Vínviðr politely. “In fact, I’ve come to help you.” When Rarity threw a disbelieving gaze at her, she gently took another step back. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vínviðr Gleipnasdóttir, though I guess that I’ll sound more familiar to you by saying that I’m Mjǫllna’s grandmother.”

Rarity’s face changed to a pleading one, slowly drawing a smile on her face. “Really? And you’ve come to help? Oh, Celestia bless you! Please, please, come in!”

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather go for a walk as we talk, if that’s okay with you,” offered Vínviðr, gesturing with a hoof. “It looks like you could use some fresh air.”

“Alright, I definitely need to relax a bit.” Rarity turned off the lights before getting outside and closing the door behind her. “If you’re here, that means that you know what happened between Mjǫllna and I.”

“I am aware of that, yes,” replied Vínviðr, tilting her head for Rarity to follow her as she walked back home.

“I’ve asked my friends for help in finding another crafter, since she’s not going to work on my orders. But they’re all too expensive!” cried Rarity in frustration. “I’ve been juggling with numbers for quite some time, trying to cut here and there, but I’m not only going to not get profit from my dresses for that runway show, but I’ll lose money. A lot! I don’t think I’ll be able to pay for the bills if I make the order to them!” She suddenly looked at Vínviðr, astonished. “How can Mjǫllna offer her products at such low price without losing money?”

“It’s not that, youngster,” she replied with a chuckle. “Our family has had blacksmithing in the blood for several generations, dating back to our Scandineighvian ancestors. We learn quickly and we mold metals with great ease. It’s almost natural for us. Being something vocational, we don’t usually put very high prices, and the raw materials here in Ponyville are very cheap anyways.” She slowly turned to Rarity, throwing a comforting smile at her. “But I know something that’ll make Mjǫllna take your orders again.”

“Oh, please, tell me, Miss Vínviðr!” begged Rarity, prostrating in front of her and grabbing her hind legs.

“You must take revenge,” she said proudly, to which Rarity reacted with a shocked expression.

”Y-you want me to take revenge… on your granddaughter?” stuttered Rarity with widened eyes.

“Well, in Scandineighvia we use that word, but I think Equestrian has another way of saying it… how was it…” Vínviðr looked up to the sky as she tipped her chin for a moment. “Ah, yes!” she cried joyfully. “Atonement’s the word!”

With a relieved sigh, Rarity got up, much calmer. “Right, atonement. That sounds better.”

“Indeed,” she replied with a chuckle. “You see, to us, revenge is doing something to make up for a mistake. If you do something for her, I’m sure that she’ll begin working on those brooches for you.”

“But what can I do for her? I mean, it’s not like a solution will fall from the sky,” grunted Rarity with exaggerated gestures.

During her acting, however, both mares spotted something flying over their heads. When they focused their attention on it, they identified it as one of the royal chariots. Vínviðr smiled broadly, to Rarity’s surprise.

“Mjǫllna’s going to be very happy in a moment,” she said, grabbing Rarity’s front leg. “Come on, Rarity, your opportunity might’ve come!”

Both mares galloped towards Mjǫllna’s house, Vínviðr taking the lead. “Madame, how can you run so fast?” asked Rarity.

“Rarity, I’m not that old yet despite my looks,” replied Vínviðr playfully, “and I’ve been a healthy mare all my life! By Þórshamarr, I’m not even in my mid-fifties; I can outrun pretty much every single one of those lazy youngsters I’ve seen sitting on the park benches!”

-o-

They got to Mjǫllna’s house in time to see the chariot landing. Mjǫllna’s face lightened up in pure joy as Drakkar got down from the vehicle before turning around to meet Shining Armor.

“Thank you for everything, Captain,” said Drakkar, hitting his chest proudly.

“We’ll meet again soon, Hoofcarl,” he replied with a salute, after which the chariot took off.

Mere seconds later, Mjǫllna jumped towards Drakkar, wrapping her hooves around his neck. “Drakkar, you’re here! I was so worried, you took so long!”

“You… you waited here for me since I left?” asked Drakkar in shock.

“You told me you’ll be back as soon as possible!”

“Mjǫllna…” Drakkar slowly burst into laughter, to which Mjǫllna reacted with a raised eyebrow and a disgruntled huff. “You really deserve something special.”

“What are you talking about?”

Drakkar’s horn began to glow dimly, and two small pieces of bright paper flew from inside the bear pelt. When Mjǫllna noticed what those were, her jaw dropped in awe.

“These are… these are tickets for the Grand Galloping Gala. How… I…” Mjǫllna shook her head, unable to belief what she had in front of her.

“One’s for me and the other one’s for you,” said Drakkar with a grin. “You and I are going to the Gala.”

Mjǫllna’s eyes shone after those words, her smile slowly turning into the widest grin she’d ever shown. Without a word, she pounced over him, both falling to the ground as she grabbed his cheeks and kissed him with fiery passion. She sat on his lap and held his front legs, trapping him under her, but he never tried to release himself. Both ponies’ tongues wrestled inside their mouths as Mjǫllna let out short moans.

From behind the house, Vínviðr and Rarity witnessed the scene, the former looking away with a giggle, where was Rarity blushed furiously.

“My, Mjǫllna’s such a passionate mare,” she admitted, looking away as well.

“Well, looks like you have something to atone yourself with,” replied Vínviðr. “You can make some clothes for him to go to the Grand Galloping Gala.”

“It’s a good idea,” she said, looking skyward as she pondered for a moment. “He told me about some clothes he had when he was younger. I’m sure I can sew him something resembling what he had back then.”

“I’ll go to your Boutique tomorrow morning to assist you. If Drakkar’s going to the gala, he should dress like a jarl,” said Vínviðr with a wink. “And by the stories Gleipna told me, I know how to make the perfect suit.”

Author's Notes:

There's not that much here to translate, since most of the dialogues in Norse are translated by other characters, save for a few:

Gef grið eigi! = Show no mercy!
Argr = Womanish. Relevance? According to the Grágás, the Old Icelandic Laws, if someone insulted/questioned another man's virility, the offended party could, by law, kill the offender.

Otraustseitrigrbroddr

Ótraustseitrigrbroddr (The poisonous sting of mistrust)

The next morning, Rarity woke up earlier than usual and started her percolator, making sure that it was extra strong that day. After Vínviðr’s conversation last night, she couldn’t avoid peeking through the window every now and then to check if she was coming. While the coffee got ready, she lay two cups on the table and a small plate with pastries, as well as a piece of paper and a pencil on her side of the table.

Once the coffee was ready, Rarity turned off the heat and served both cups of coffee before putting it back in its place. A knock at the door called her attention, followed a quick gallop to open it. With a polite bow, she greeted Vínviðr, who replied with a pleased nod.

“Thank you for coming, Miss Vínviðr,” greeted Rarity, gently pointing at the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind that I made breakfast for both us.”

“Oh, not at all, Rarity,” replied Vínviðr. “I wanted to talk about this before you opened your store, so I took a very small breakfast.”

Both mares walked to the kitchen and took their seats. Rarity magically lifted her cup to take a small sip to check if it was too hot to drink. On the other hoof, Vínviðr took one of the pastries and bit it, with only half of it remaining on her hoof.

“I have a question, if you don’t mind me asking,” said Rarity. “I’m curious about your mane.” She caressed her mane as she spoke to emphasize her words.

“Of course! What do you want to know?” asked Vínviðr as she grabbed her cup.

“Well, I noticed that you always wear this kerchief over your head.”

“Oh, this!” replied Vínviðr with a laugh. “This is just a formality; I shouldn’t even wear it anymore. This is a headdress that we use in Scandineighvia. This one in particular denotes my married status. I’m a widow now, but I grew attached to it, so I keep wearing it nonetheless,” she added with a shrug.

“I’m terribly sorry,” said Rarity as her ears dropped. “Something told me I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Don’t feel bad, Rarity,” replied Vínviðr, raising a hoof to comfort her. “My husband and I lived a fulfilling marriage and life together, and his memory brings me not sadness because he left, but joy because of our years together.”

“That’s beautiful to hear, Miss Vínviðr,” said Rarity with a slowly growing smile. “Does your daughter also wear one?”

“No, Hearth Fire refuses to participate from Norse traditions despite acknowledging them; she doesn’t feel as attached to our homeland as Mjǫllna or I do.”

“That reminds me,” interjected Rarity as she let the cup on the table and magically lifted the paper and pencil. Vínviðr nodded at her actions, though Rarity couldn’t avoid lowering her head. “I don’t want to give such an awful impression, but—”

“It’s okay, youngster,” she said with a giggle. “That’s what I came here for in the first place. Okay, let’s focus on the suit first, and we’ll keep chatting later.”

Rarity gave her an approving nod as her face lit up with a humble smile. “So, what do you think we’ll need?”

“I’ve seen a lot of your designs, and I’m sure you’re going to love working on this one. You see,” explained Vínviðr while holding her cup, “while Scandineighvian clothing is more about being practical, utilitarian and comfortable, it’s also highly decorated.”

“Drakkar’s basic description sounded time consuming,” admitted Rarity, “but I’ve sewn some of the most complex dresses a pony mind can conceive,” she added with a confident grin as her humility faded away.

“You’ll be able to do it, I’m sure of that,” replied Vínviðr, softly snorting at her boasting. “I’m worried about the price of the raw materials, though.”

“Considering the amount of money I’ll save if Mjǫllna takes my order instead of being forced to commission them to those expensive thieves at Canterlot,” grunted Rarity, “you can rest assured that Drakkar’s suit won’t be a problem.”

“Not to mention that, if your craft is as good as what I’ve seen so far,” continued Vínviðr with a comforting smile, “I’m certain that Drakkar might want to get some extra clothing for his trip back.”

“That would be wonderful!” Suddenly, to Vínviðr’s surprise, Rarity’s eyes widened as she leaned forward on the table. “Does Mjǫllna have a dress? If she’s going to go with him, she must have something too!”

“Well, my mother had a noblepony’s dress,” replied Vínviðr. “However, she was a Pegasus, so we’d have to sew up the holes for the wings.”

With a loud gasp, Rarity covered his mouth as she leaned back with a horrified stare. “I wouldn’t be able to do such a thing to an heirloom! You can bring it to me if you want and I’ll craft an identical dress.”

“That would be a lot of work, Rarity,” replied Vínviðr with a shake of her head. “I don’t want to put such a burden on you. Besides, mare’s clothing has a lot of brooches, and it’s much more decorated if you’re going for the noblepony’s approach.”

“Miss Vínviðr, if this atonement plan works,” assured Rarity with a delighted grin, “I’ll gladly craft a dress for her, and she’ll help with the brooches, combining our efforts to make outstanding art together!”

“Even so,” she insisted, “I’d rather have you work on Drakkar’s suit for now. If you really want to make Mjǫllna’s dress when everything’s solved, I’ll bring you my mother’s for you to use as a template, and you might add whatever you want that you think would suit my granddaughter. Just remember to set your priorities,” she added with a wink.

“Very well, Miss Vínviðr.” Rarity looked at her ponnequins, her joyful expression slowly turning into a slightly annoyed frown. “Though I’m afraid I don’t have anything that would work for somepony of his size. And taking his measures would be far too obvious, if we’re going to make this a surprise.”

“I think Big Macintosh and him are both the same size,” said Vínviðr with a chuckle. “You could ask him to be the model, and if you explain to him, he won’t say a word.”

“That’s a pretty good idea,” admitted Rarity, taking a long sip from her coffee cup. After putting the almost empty cup down again, she magically lifted the paper and pencil. “Okay, what materials are we going to need?”

“Well, the average suit consists on an overtunic and a cloak,” explained Vínviðr. “We usually use wool, because for what my mother told me, silk was very expensive, having to be imported and all.”

“Silk isn’t a problem here. If he has to look like a noble, I can use silk without the suit being too expensive.” She raised an eyebrow as something came to her mind, calling Vínviðr’s attention. “As long as we don’t use one of those silks with sparkles I had to order once…” Rarity sat silent for a moment, absent-minded, before shaking her head and hoof as she chuckled lowly. “I don’t think that would suit him anyways.”

Vínviðr laughed loudly when she was about to eat another pastry, putting it down for a moment. “Yeah, that’d be bit over the top. Plain colors should be more than enough, and I know I can leave choosing matching ones up to you.” Rarity nodded profusely with a satisfied smile. “Anyways, the overtunic is constructed using some complex patterns involving many pieces getting cut out of the fabric and then sewing them back together. When done, the garment doesn’t restrict movement at all. Average ponies had them long enough to cover the flank, but noble ponies’ could afford them being long enough to cover the stifles.”

“So we’re talking about stifle-length, then,” repeated Rarity as she took notes. “Do you by any chance know about this sewing process you mentioned?”

“I do, actually,” replied Vínviðr. “I made a suit for my husband Night Sky once. He loved it, though he usually felt out of place when he wore it outside.” At the memory, she giggled as she raised the pastry again without paying attention to it. “Anyways, as for the rest of the suit…”

-o-

Twilight had woken up earlier than usual and wasn’t able to fall asleep until very late last night, but she looked far from tired. Leaving Spike in his bed for a few more minutes as she prepared everything. She filled her saddlebags with two blank books, several parchments, three quills in case the other two broke and a couple inkwells.

“This is going to be amazing!” sang Twilight, checking the notes Luna sent her last night. ”I have enough material to start a conversation, and these grammar sheets she gave me are actually easier than I thought they would be! I didn’t expect Princess Luna to be so well-versed in foreign cultures!” With an excited squee, she glanced through the papers to quickly review the content. “Scandineighvia seems to be an outstanding place, though I’m worried that Drakkar might be offended if I bring up knowledge of his hometown from more than a thousand years ago.” Though concerned at first, she let out a long, relieved sigh when she got to the final pages. “These are actually more recent; Princess Luna must have gathered this information from their conversation last night. I’ll have to read this during the walk to Fluttershy’s.”

Twilight left the notes on the table before trotting upstairs, stopping next to Spike. She stood there for a moment, moving her hoof towards him, but pulling it back almost instantly. Witnessing the baby dragon sleep was heartwarming, and a grim feeling climbed up her spine at the very thought of waking him up. However, duty called, and she knew that Spike was going to be needed to write down everything. With that idea in mind, Twilight magically lifted the sleeping dragon and rested him on her back.

“W-w-what’s going on?” asked Spike, rheum preventing him from opening his eyes. He sat up on Twilight’s back, wiping his face to see his surroundings, only to notice the mare’s mane in front of him. “Twilight, what are you doing?” he inquired with a confused grimace.

She snickered at his words, her ears drooping as she turned to him. “Sorry, Spike, I didn’t want to wake you up so early, but we had to get going to talk to Drakkar.” While she spoke, she slowly walked down the stairs, with Spike grabbing her sides to avoid falling. “You can try to rest and sleep on my back while I’m on my way there if you want. I’m going to walk slowly anyways; I have to study all these papers again just to make sure I got everything right,” she added as she magically pulled the papers she had left on the table to her.

The travel to Fluttershy’s house was uneventful, which allowed Twilight to prepare herself for the meeting. She was able to check Luna’s notes thrice during the trip, and Spike had taken a quick nap that had worked wonders on him, being able to take a peek at the papers as Twilight read then.

“So, are we actually going to interview this Drakkar pony?” asked Spike as he scratched the back of his neck and stretched his arms and legs.

“The Princesses are interested in starting political negotiations between both kingdoms,” explained Twilight. “Both parties admitted that they lacked information about each other, so Celestia trusted me to take care of gathering all the information I could until the Grand Galloping Gala.”

“Do the notes Luna gave you say anything about dragons in Drakkar’s homeland?” inquired Spike with a concerned voice. “Nothing special, really; I just want to know if I should be expecting praises or hiding from him.”

“Well, he’s seen me before,” replied Twilight. ”Besides, you’re a baby dragon, and if he notices we’re in good terms, there’s no reason for him to try anything despite whatever they do to dragons.”

“That’s… not the most relaxing answer I could get,” admitted Spike with a shiver.

Twilight let out a long, exasperated sigh before turning to Spike. “Relax; if the Princesses have allowed me take care of this, that’s because there’s nothing to worry about,” she insisted with a comforting smile.

“Well, I’ll stay behind you taking notes just in case,” replied the young dragon as he picked a quill and one of the blank books from the saddlebags.

From the distance, both could see Fluttershy’s cottage, with Drakkar outside, chasing a small wild boar. Twilight noticed that, when the stallion touched the little animal, he turned around and galloped as Gullin stopped running away and began running behind him.

“What the…” Spike scratched his forehead, befuddled at the sight. “Twilight, what’s going on here?”

“I’m… not sure,” admitted Twilight with the same astonishment as her assistant. The wild boar then tackled Drakkar in his hind leg right before squealing and running on the opposite direction as the stallion turned to chase him. “If I wasn’t certain that it’s impossible, I think they’re playing tag. That boar must be Gullin, the pet Fluttershy gave him.”

“A boar as a pet?” Spike blinked in disbelief for a moment, only to shrug it off a second later. “Well, if Pinkie has an alligator, I can dig that.”

“Let’s go talk to him,” said Twilight, trotting towards him with a broad grin. “Drakkar!”

The stallion stood still, turning to Twilight and waving his hoof slowly. “I remember you from the drinking contest,” he said politely. “Are you one of Fluttershy’s friends?”

Twilight nodded slowly as she rested a hoof on her chest. “I’m Twilight Sparkle. I’m sure the Princesses and my brother Shining Armor had told you about me and what I’ve come here for.”

“So you’re Shining Armor’s sister,” repeated Drakkar with a laugh. “When Fluttershy began telling me about you and the Princesses, I believed that you were a seer who could communicate with your deities.”

Twilight giggled at his words, shaking a hoof in front of him. “Far from it; I’m just a student. And as such, I’ve come to gather the required information for the negotiations.”

“Very well, we’ll do that.” Next to him, Gullin stood by his side, grunting with displeasure as he pushed Drakkar with his hooves. “Excuse me for a second, Twilight.” As she nodded, the stallion crouched, looking at the young wild boar in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Gullin, but Twilight comes to talk about business. We’ll keep playing later.” When Gullin turned around with a disgruntled squeal, Drakkar looked up and noticed Spike on Twilight’s back, which made him raise an eyebrow. “What… what’s that?” he asked, pointing at him.

“Oh, this is Spike, my number one assistant!” replied Twilight. “He’s a baby dragon.”

Spike gasped in terror before grabbing one of Twilight’s ears. “Twilight, you didn’t have to say it!” he whispered without taking his eyes away from Drakkar.

The stallion’s eyes widened in shock. “You… you can’t be serious,” replied Drakkar as he stared at Spike with disbelief. “This is a spawn of Níðhǫggr?”

“A what of who?” asked Twilight, surprised by his reaction.

“I… I never thought I would see a dragon, much less such a young one.” Drakkar walked slowly towards them, moving his hoof towards him cautiously. At first, Spike covered his head and shivered, but Twilight didn’t shy away as Drakkar’s visage showed more surprise than fear or anger.

When the stallion rested his hoof on Spike’s forehead and caressed it, the little dragon calmed down, but gently pushed him away. “So, you’re not going to hurt me?” asked Spike.

“Hurt you? Why would I do that?” inquired Drakkar with a shrug. “You’re the first dragon I’ve seen in my whole life. I want to know about you, actually.”

“We’ll have time for that later,” offered Twilight with a gentle bow. “For now, we should focus on our task.”

“So there aren’t any dragons in your homeland?” interjected Spike curiously as he got down from Twilight. “And who’s that Nihog you mentioned before?”

“Níðhǫggr is the only living dragon I know of,” explained Drakkar. “Legends say that he’s trapped among the roots of Yggdrasil, gnarling them constantly. Then we have Jǫrmungandr, but that’s not a dragon but an ormr, or a serpent as you might call them in Equestria. They say that it’s so long that its body surrounds Miðgarðr. Then we have Fafnir, but he wasn’t always a dragon, but a dvergr whose greed transformed him into one.”

“Yggdrasil? Miðgarðr?” repeated Twilight with a cocked eyebrow.

“Oh, you see, Yggdrasil is the World Tree, where the Nine Realms are settled,” explained Drakkar with a smile in his face. “Our realm, where we live, is called Miðgarðr. The other eight are Múspelheimr, the Realm of Fire; Ásgarðr, where the gods leave; Jǫtunheimr, the Realm of the Giants; Hel, the Realm of the Dead; Svartálfheimr, the Realm of the dvergar; Vanaheimr, the Realm of the Vanir; Niflheimr, the Realm of Ice; and Álfheimr, the Realm of the álfar.”

“I see.” Twilight seemed slightly annoyed at the apparent nonsense Drakkar was talking about. However, because of the Princesses’ interest in the diplomatic relationships, she kept her personal opinions aside. Though she disagreed with his perspective of the universe, it actually told her a lot about their culture; Scandineighvia appeared to be a superstitious kingdom, with little to no grasp of science as compared to Equestria. “Well, we’ll focus on our realm, if you don’t mind,” she added with a snort.

“Sounds good to me,” replied Drakkar with a nod. “We have quite a lot to talk about.”

-o-

At the smithy, Mjǫllna had started melting some iron ingots in the furnace, getting ready to pour them in the sealed molds. The mask she wore protected her from breathing the vile odor and gas particles of metal. Once she was able to get a decent balance, she could lift heavy weights with little effort; blacksmithing had granted her outstanding physical might that bested the average Earth pony’s natural strength. This had proven to be a blessing concerning her profession, and the subject of a good laugh every now and then when her mother used to bring possible suitors for her. Lack of Mjǫllna’s interest in them aside, a simple feat of her prowess was all that was needed to scare them away.

She could understand her mother’s frustration, however. Scandineighvian mares used to bear foals much earlier than Equestrian ones. Her grandmother told her that he gave birth to Hearth Fire when she was almost sixteen, and Hearth Fire brought Mjǫllna to this world being only fifteen. Thinking about it, she was on her early twenties and still without a foal to call her own. It was a thought that didn’t bother her as long as she didn’t think about it, and the smiting of her hammer against iron usually kept her mind busy. This time, however, Ponyville seemed to be conspiring against her.

Maybe it had to do with her time with Drakkar, but she couldn’t avoid smiling at the colts and fillies running along with their parents. A couple foals or even more under her wing sounded delightful, and while she didn’t consider talking about that with him, Drakkar seemed to be comfortable among young ponies, so chances were that he would love the idea as well.

As she finished pouring the liquid metal in the mold, she carefully put the container aside, waiting for the steel to cool down. While waiting, she saw through the corner of the eye a small group of young ponies trotting towards her house. She recognized them as the fillies Drakkar was playing with a couple days ago; the self-proclaimed Cutie Mark Crusaders.

“Good morning, girls!” greeted Mjǫllna, waving at them.

“Oh, Miss Mjǫllna!” replied Sweetie Belle, followed closely by her friends. “Wow, you sure start working early!”

“I always start working early, girls,” said Mjǫllna with a satisfied grin. “It takes some time for the forge to light up.”

“Mah sis also starts working very early in the morning,” said Apple Bloom. “We all get up extra early to do our chores at the farm.”

“Rarity’s been working on a lot of dresses too,” continued Sweetie Belle.

“What I don’t get, Sweetie Belle,” interjected Scootaloo,” is why you didn’t stay in bed. I mean, I love crusading for your cutie marks as much as you two, but today we didn’t have school, so I thought we were going to get some extra sleep.”

“Oh, that was the plan,” admitted Sweetie Belle, shrugging for a moment, “but Rarity said that she was having a visit and she didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Did she tell ya who the visit was?” inquired Apple Bloom, looking at her friend.

“No, but I saw her entering the boutique while hidden behind some bushes,” she replied with a giggle. “She wore a headwear covering her mane and had a grapevine for a cutie mark.”

Mjǫllna’s eyes widened at the description, staring at Sweetie Belle. “Are you certain about the cutie mark?”

“Yes, Miss Mjǫllna,” replied Sweetie Belle. “It’s the first time I saw it, so it shocked me a bit.”

With a sigh and a shake of her head, Mjǫllna rested her weight on her left legs. “That’s my grandmother, Vínviðr.”

“Your granny?” repeated Sweetie Belle, staring at Mjǫllna with a dropped jaw. When the mare nodded at her with a smile, she regained her composure. “But she looks so young!”

“That’s because she is,” replied Mjǫllna with a chuckle. “I wonder what she’s going to do at Carousel Boutique.” She looked at the direction Rarity’s store was for a moment before shrugging it off and returning her attention to the fillies. “Anyway, what are you going to do today? Crusading for your cutie marks as usual?”

“You bet!” replied Scootaloo. “Hey, we could help you at the smithy!”

Even before the filly pegasus finished her sentence, Mjǫllna had already raised a hoof and showed a frown. “I’m very sorry, but this is a very dangerous place, and I can’t let you hurt yourself.”

“Aw, but a blacksmithing cutie mark would be awesome!” insisted Scootaloo. “I want one like yours!”

Mjǫllna sighed, looking through the corner of her eye at the cooling molds. “Girls,” she started, glancing at the fillies with a slowly growing smile. “I can’t let you get close to the furnace, but there’s something you might be able to do for me.”

“Alright!” cheered Apple Bloom. “What do you need, Miss Mjǫllna?”

“You can just call me Mjǫllna, Apple Bloom,” she corrected with a chuckle. “Okay, despite what you might believe, blacksmithing isn’t just hammering metal on an anvil.” At those words, Scootaloo grunted in deep disappointment, to which Mjǫllna couldn’t avoid letting out a laugh. “Blacksmithing involves much more than that. You’re going to help me by creating molds. I have a bag of clay and some patterns there. You have to use those wooden frames to make the molds, helping yourselves with the cooked patterns.”

“Yay, clay!” cried Sweetie Belle, galloping inside the smithy.

Scootaloo, on the other hoof, crossed her forehooves in front of her, staring at her joyful friend with a raised eyebrow. “Clay? Really? That’s for foals!”

“Aw, come on, Scoots,” said Apple Bloom. “You heard Mjǫllna; not everything’s about hammerin’ metal!”

“I think I might have something for you, Scootaloo,” interjected Mjǫllna as she looked through her shelves. “That might do!” Without a second thought, she pulled a broad sword from one of the upper stands. The blade was craggy with impurities and iron scraps from its forging. “Scootaloo, you’re going to grind this sword with the grindstone I have there,” she said, pointing at the small rocky wheel. “With all the orders I’ve been taking, I haven’t been able to finish it.”

The filly looked at the sword with a raised eyebrow. “Well, at least it’s not clay,” she finally said with a shrug.

“Ahm gonna help Sweetie Belle with the clay molds,” said Apple Bloom, trotting towards her friend.

Mjǫllna giggled at the sight of the three fillies working with her. Sure, the tasks she had given them were the usual ones given to apprentices, and she knew that, as soon as they failed to get their cutie marks, they would put everything aside and move to a different activity. However, there was something more there that day. Just like Vínviðr did with both Hearth Fire and herself, so was Mjǫllna enjoying her time teaching some tricks of the trade to the crusaders.

“Hey, girls,” said Apple Bloom, calling her friends’ attention. “After this, what do y’all say of visiting Zecora?”

“Sounds like a plan!” replied Sweetie Belle.

“Whatever,” said Scootaloo between her teeth, checking the still scraggy blade. “Oh, you have to be kiddin’! How much longer do I have to do this?”

“You can stop whenever you want,” replied Mjǫllna as she walked to her side. From behind her, she took the sword, inspecting the side Scootaloo had been working on. During the time they’ve been working, she had been able to remove a few chunks of raw iron, but the blade itself didn’t have smooth spots anywhere. “Not bad for a novice, kid,” she admitted with a smile as she caressed Scootaloo’s head. “. Girls, come here, I’ll show you how it’s done!”

-o-

Save for Spike, who had spent the last few hours taking notes about everything concerning Scandineighvia, time seemed to go way too fast. Drakkar had his own set of parchments where he wrote down drafts of what Twilight told him about Equestria after she assured her that he could take some from the Library when they were done. The two ponies had spent hours exchanging pieces of trivia from both kingdoms, touching on every conceivable topic, from military to farming. Though she wasn’t as fluent in certain aspects of Equestrian culture, if things went well, she could ask her brother and friends to second and expand her own knowledge concerning those topics.

Everything Twilight had to say about Equestria fascinated Drakkar, the same way she was excited by everything he told her about Scandineighvia. However, when told about different creatures from his homeland, she couldn’t avoid staring at him in disbelief. It was hard to believe that there were no dragons in Scandineighvia, but instead had fire and frost giants, living in their own realms. Explanations about álfar and dvergar were even less satisfying, as they were described as ponies with slightly specific traits and gifted with great talent with magic and crafts respectively, also having their own realms outside their own. The fact that the so called Rainbow Bridge allowed one to travel between them really made Scandineighvian ponies look like superstitious folks.

They didn’t appear to be fond of technology or science either. Whenever Twilight asked about certain commodities, Drakkar would reply with a shocked expression and a shake of his head. Electricity, as far as he told her, wasn’t used at all, only worshipped due to being Þórr the one causing them. The most advanced means of transport was a chariot pulled by oxen, and it was only used by the nobility; the konungr, the jarls and the þegns, which meant that they didn’t have steam-powered vehicles. Despise all these lacks, Fimbulvetr seemed to be a kingdom that could sustain itself perfectly. If there was something Equestria could offer on the short run, it was going to take a long time.

After a long discussion, both decided to take a short break.

“Spike, you’ve been quiet the whole time,” said Twilight, to which the young dragon replied with a shrug. “Do you want to ask him anything?”

Spike tipped her chin for moment before pointing at the stallion. “Drakkar, what kind of stories do you have there?”

“Oh, we have hundreds of stories!” replied Drakkar, laughing loudly. “If I could tell you all the tales I know.”

“Please do!” he said as she put aside his book. “I want to hear about that dragon you mentioned.”

Drakkar took a short breath, but didn’t spoke a word, staring at Twilight and Spike for a moment. After a short pause, he let out a defeated sigh before looking around him and shaking his head. “Neither of you speak or understand Scandineighvian, do you?”

“I’m afraid I don’t for now,” admitted Twilight as she shrugged. “Princess Luna has given me a small notebook with grammar rules and some vocabulary. I’ve looked it over, and I’ve got the hang of the declensions, but I can’t say I can start or keep a conversation.”

“You see, Twilight,” started Drakkar before sitting down on the grass, “our stories are written in Scandineighvian, and while some of them have been translated to Equestrian, it feels…” His face twisted into a displeased grimace, moving his hooves in circles as if it helped coming up with a word. “It hurts my tongue, so to speak. We translated them, so Equestrians might be able to understand it, but it also shatters the metrics and melodiousness of the prose or poetry.”

“I see.” Twilight tipped her chin for a moment before her eyes widened at an idea. “Oh! I know a spell that might help you!”

“A… spell?” repeated Drakkar with an ever greater grimace of displeasure.

“Oh, you see,” explained Twilight as she magically searched through her notes, “there’s a spell that allows you to project mental images. With that, you’d be able to recite stories in Scandineighvian and other ponies would be able to understand you.”

“But I’m not interested in learning magic,” he stated bluntly.

“Why? It’s in your nature! You’re a unicorn; you should be interested in magic!” replied Twilight, shocked at his words.

“Stallions don’t use magic.” Drakkar crossed his front legs in front of him and stared at the young mare. “It’s been like that since the foundation of our village.”

“If I may,” interjected Twilight, “according to Princess Luna’s notes, despite the stated differences in gender roles, it is totally possible for a stallion to become a proficient battle crier if he becomes proficient enough at it.”

To these words, Drakkar looked away with a grunt. “Even so, I’d rather not use magic.”

“But you levitate objects and do the bear-roaring spell, which I’d never seen until I met you. And those,” continued Twilight with a smirk, “are also magic. You can’t simply say you don’t want to learn magic when you’ve already learned a couple spells.”

“That’s a different kind of magic,” replied Drakkar with an irritated growl. “I said that in front of the Princesses.”

“Different kinds of magic are still magic,” insisted Twilight. Her eyes widened as a thought came to her mind that made her show a broad grin. “The magic you refuse to learn is Scandineighvian one. This, however, could be considered… Which was the word?” Twilight magically levitated and moved all the papers and pages of the books she had in an attempt to find the word. “Skaldic, that’s right! Skaldic magic! It would allow you to let ponies and creatures from other races know about your story! This is Equestria; we won’t judge you for learning magic, and you don’t have to use it in Scandineighvia if you don’t want to.”

Though dubious at first, a smile drew on Drakkar’s face at the idea. With a short nod, he leaned forward. “Very well, then.”

“Excellent!” shouted Twilight joyfully, getting up with a quick jump. “It’s actually a very simple spell, but due to being pretty much a useless spell, it’s a spell almost nopony uses. But I’m glad to be able to teach it to another pony!”

“Alright, what do I have to do to cast the spell?” asked Drakkar with a raised eyebrow.

“As I said, it’s very simple. Just focus raw magic in your horn and imagine what you want to show,” explained Twilight as her horn shone with a sparkly aura. “Allow me to show you.”

Twilight closed her eyes and raised her head, her horn pointing directly to the sky. After a moment, the sparkles of her horn spread over her, shining brightly and creating what looked like a blank scroll. In the middle of the ivory nothingness, a small purple glow appeared, slowly getting the shape of a unicorn. After a very short while, the mane and facial features resembled Twilight’s perfectly. The image bowed at Drakkar, who took a step back while gawking.

“Now you try it,” said Twilight’s image. “As you can see, it’s not that hard. You can use words while trying to cast the spell if you feel more comfortable. Besides, speaking out what you’re thinking of usually makes the spell easier. Actually, in the days of old, storytellers used to help themselves with this spell to further enhance their already talented speechcraft.”

With a raised eyebrow, Drakkar slowly nodded, focusing more energy than Twilight did.

She dismissed the spell without effort, slowly opening her eyes to witness Drakkar’s attempt. “You don’t need to use that much energy,” said Twilight with a raised eyebrow as she took a step back.

“Múspellssónr rís af fjarri,” he began chanting.

As Drakkar chanted loudly with a proud smile, his horn burst similarly to how Twilight’s had done before, but the creature that slowly formed in front of them wasn’t Drakkar or anything neither Spike nor Twilight knew about. The intense orange and yellow glow quickly turned into a horrifying being of gargantuan proportions. The beast resembled a Diamond Dog, but had longer legs and walked straight. Its hair was living fire, and the parts of the body that weren’t set ablaze were as dark as coal. As the behemoth walked through the blank screen, he stepped across a tree half his size, only to crouch and tear it from the ground, the leaves and branches bursting into flames as the giant smacked his elbow with it. The monster let out a bellowing roar as it breathed a cone of flames to the skies.

When Drakkar finished chanting the poem and dismissed the spell, causing the monstrous fire giant to burst in a curtain of sparkles, he opened his eyes to see both Twilight and Spike staring at where the image spawned, their mouths wide opened in shock.

“W-w-what was that thing?” stuttered Spike.

“That, spawn of Níðhǫggr,” replied Drakkar, “is a fire giant, or Son of Múspellsheimr, as we also call them.”

“Unbelievable,” said Twilight, unable to regain her composure. “It looked so… so real. I knew that words made the images clearer, but I never expected to witness this…” Twilight sat down, pressing her hoof against her forehead. “This can’t be a made up monster. Not if you can picture it perfectly.”

“They spend most of their time in Múspellsheimr,” said Drakkar with a nod, “but sometimes, once every many, many years, some of them travel to Miðgarðr. They are mostly young giants who want to show that they’re mighty warriors to their superiors. And by Þórshammar, for what I heard, those monsters take time and effort to take down.”

“So everything you’ve mentioned,” continued Twilight, speaking slowly as her own mind rearranged herself to believe everything she had thrown away as fantasy, “like… the serpent that surrounds the world and bites its own tail? And—”

“We believe that they exist, yes.” Drakkar looked around him with a satisfied smile. “Though I’ve never seen the Jǫrmungandr, but we have stories about it, and relieves about how Þórr, the God of Thunder, lured the monster with an ox head to try to catch it and kill it. But Hymir, the giant he was sharing the boat with, cut the line and the beast was released.”

“He tried to catch a serpent long enough to surround the world?!” asked Spike in shock, taking a hop forward. “I wanna hear all about it!”

“Sure, spawn of Níðhǫggr, you deserve a story to relax after all that writing,” replied Drakkar with a laugh. He looked at the young dragon with a smirk, lowering her head until he reached his height. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you that,” he added as he rested his hoof on Spike’s shoulder. “I know Rainbow Dash loves being called Bifrǫst, but I don’t know if you prefer that or being called…”

“Spike,” finished the young dragon. “It’s okay, I like how it sounds. Is there a way to put it differently, though? I like the name, but being a spawn isn’t that menacing,” he added with a chuckle. “Think you can do that?”

“Spike, huh?” Drakkar looked up in the sky for a moment before turning to Twilight and then to the young dragon. A slowly growing smile drew on the stallion’s lips, which made Spike hop in anticipation. “Oddr Níðhoggsson, Scholar Dragon of Equestria.”

“That’s amazing!” cried Spike out of pure joy as he hit himself on the chest. “Alright, let’s hear about that serpent-fishing god!”

-o-

At first, the three fillies watched in awe at how Mjǫllna polished the blade with the grindstone. However, after about an hour, they began focusing their attention on everything else. The mare chuckled, caressing their heads before getting up and putting the sword back to its place.

“I can’t blame you for getting bored,” she admitted with a shrug. “This is the kind of job you do because you love every single minute of it.”

“Even the most boring and repetitive tasks?” asked Scootaloo.

“Scootaloo, that’s mean to say!” scolded Sweetie Belle.

“Even the most boring and repetitive tasks,” repeated Mjǫllna with a nod. Scootaloo blushed slightly as the other fillies snickered. “Okay, girls, we’ve done quite a lot for today.” She got up to check the molds, and smiled as she noticed that the fillies had done a pretty decent job at it. A few touches here and there before cooking them and they should be ready. “You’ve helped me a lot and, in return, I’ll go with you to see Zecora.”

“Ya don’t hafta come with us if you have so much work, Mjǫllna,” said Apple Bloom politely with a smile.

“The Everfree Forest is a dangerous place,” insisted Mjǫllna. “I don’t want anything to happen to you if I can avoid it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind having her around,” admitted Sweetie Belle. “Remember that time when we almost got turned to stone by a cockatrice?”

“Now we know we have to avoid everything that isn’t Zecora,” continued Scootaloo with a shrug. “No big deal.”

“Okay then. Thanks for offering to come with us, Mjǫllna,” said Apple Bloom. “Come on, girls!”

As the fillies walked away, Mjǫllna cooled the forge off with a bucket of water before joining them. The ponies spent the travel talking about their future plans.

“So, how does it feel to try everything to earn your cutie marks?” asked Mjǫllna, intrigued. “It must be really exhausting!”

“Very,” admitted Sweetie Belle. “We’ve tried a lot of things: animal caring, juggling, gardening, singing, painting—”

“Weightlifting, sky diving, bungee jumping, leg-wrestling—” interjected Scootaloo for a while before Apple Bloom continued.

“Harvestin’, dressmakin’, bakin’, organizing—”

“By Brisingamen, just listening to it makes me tired!” replied Mjǫllna with a chuckle. “And what are you planning to do when you get your cutie marks?”

“Well, Ah don’t think we’ll get the same cutie mark,” admitted Apple Bloom. “Ah guess we’ll give moral support and keep doing the same things to help the other get their own.”

“And we’ll help young colts and fillies get their cutie marks too!” added Scootaloo with a flap of her wings.

Apple Bloom gasped in enthusiasm. “That’s a great idea!” she said with a wide grin. “Wait, what if our special talent is making others find their special talent?”

“If that was the case, we wouldn’t be blank flanks yet,” replied Scootaloo as she rolled her eyes, as if her answer was too obvious to consider mentioning.

“Mjǫllna, now that we’re talking about our future,” said Sweetie Belle, turning to face the mare. “Are you planning on marrying?”

“Sweetie Belle, that’s a bit private, don’t ya think?” asked Apple Bloom with a raised eyebrow.

Mjǫllna giggled at the filly’s reaction. “It’s okay, Apple Bloom. To be honest, I’ve been considering marriage recently, yes.”

“With Drakkar?” insisted Sweetie Belle, hopping around. “With him?”

The mare laughed loudly, caressing the filly’s mane before speaking. “It’s too soon to say that, even by Scandineighvian standards.”

“If you get married, can we go?” asked Sweetie Belle again.

“Cut it out already,” grunted Scootaloo.

“If we marry here, sure you can come. I guess that everypony in Ponyville would come,” said the mare cordially with a tender smile.

“Yay!” cheered Sweetie Belle, jumping in pure joy.

“What d’ya mean with if you marry here?” inquired Apple Bloom with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, maybe Drakkar would like to marry in his homeland. I wouldn’t mind meeting some of my family there. My great-grandmother had two brothers and a sister, so I’ll have a lot of relatives to greet there,” said Mjǫllna with a giggle. “Besides, I’m sure that Drakkar misses his family and friends.”

“If you go, I can lend you my camera so you can take pictures and show us. Please?” Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened, sparkling with hope.

“If you want to see a wedding so badly why don’t you marry yourself?” replied Scootaloo. “You won’t shut up about marrying and whatnot.”

“Well, duh! Because I’m too young to marry,” said Sweetie Belle as she rolled her eyes.

“So it’s not because you don’t have a special somepony,” teased Apple Bloom with a roguish smirk.

“What? No! I mean, yes! I mean… leave me alone!” Sweetie Belle blushed, trotting to Mjǫllna’s right, the mare standing in the middle, separating the filly unicorn from her two friends.

“No way! Really? Who is it?”

The young fillies began bombarding her friend with questions and she tried her best to avoid answering them. To this, Mjǫllna couldn’t contain her laughter. They didn’t notice getting inside the forest, and only after a howl from afar called their attention, they didn’t stop joking. The mare’s ears perked up and the fillies shrank, hiding under Mjǫllna.

“T-timberwolves!” whispered Scootaloo.

“We should return to Ponyville,” suggested Sweetie, trembling.

Mjǫllna looked around her, looking for a place to hide. “There must be somewhere we could—” As she scanned the area, she noticed a small, shallow cave. From her place and the dim sunlight that filtered through the trees, she could see the end of it. The fillies could hide there without problem, and the timberwolves wouldn’t be able to get them. She’d have a bit of trouble fitting there, but the young ponies were the priority. “We can hide there!”

The four ponies ran towards the cave when a timberwolf jumped from the wilderness and landed right on top of a large boulder a few feet away from them. Though the fillies had arrived safely to the hideout, Mjǫllna simply moved aside, standing in front of the entry as she stared at the creature, which returned a hungry gaze at her.

“Mjǫllna!” cried the fillies.

“Don’t even think about getting out!” she shouted without looking away from the monster.

When she walked back, she stepped on a thick and sturdy branch. She looked at it through the corner of her eye for an instant before focusing on the timberwolf again. The beast charged towards her, pouncing with its jaws wide open and a guttural growl, tackling the mare. When Mjǫllna fell on her back, she pressed her hind legs against the wolf’s belly, throwing it against a tree, causing it to break apart.

“What’s the matter?” taunted Mjǫllna with a smirk, grabbing the thick branch and resting it on her right shoulder as the fillies cheered from the safety of her hideout. “You can’t stand the sight of a strong Scandineighvian mare?”

Her victory didn’t last long, for she spotted a couple more timberwolves coming towards them. Both stood next to the remains of which appeared to be a member of their pack. When the beast began to recompose itself, the other two began howling, to which Mjǫllna reacted by standing on her hind legs and wielding the branch with both front hooves, frowning at the beasts.

“Let’s hope that my Scandineighvian blood helps me here,” she said as she took a defensive stance, covering the cave’s entrance.

-o-

After staying so long in Fluttershy’s, Twilight decided to go for a short walk to stretch the legs. Drakkar and Spike considered it a good idea, and the young dragon suggested visiting Applejack, to which both ponies agreed. Aside from meeting her friend, Twilight was also interested in Scandineighvia’s agriculture, especially the possibility of growing crops in low temperature climates.

“We should take a road that’s not as close to the Everfree Forest,” suggested Spike with a shudder.

“What’s with that forest?” inquired Drakkar with a cocked eyebrow. “I walked through it to come here and, aside from the dense vegetation, I didn’t see that much.“

”You mean you didn’t see any monsters? There are a lot of them!” insisted Spike, waving his arms. “Manticores, hydras, cockatrices, you name it!”

“I’ve… heard those names before.” Drakkar tipped his chin for a moment before turning to the young dragon. ”I remember meeting a strange pony in the Everfree who told me about those.”

“That must be Zecora,” replied Twilight, surprised at the fact that Drakkar had stumbled upon her friend. “Did you actually meet her in the Everfree Forest?”

“She was gathering some plants, that’s what I can remember. That and the weird way speaking she has.”

Twilight let out a short chuckle at his words. “White, black stripes, exotic ornaments?”

“Yes, that’s her!” he replied with a smile.

“She’s a nice friend of ours,” added Twilight with a nod. “I’m sure she was quite helpful.”

“She told me how to get here; something about safe zones. Creatures around here are quite territorial for what she told me, but there were places I could walk through without problems.” Drakkar shrugged with a short laugh. “It was hard to get what she was trying to say, but I got a certain idea about what those monsters looked like, and let me tell you; I was impressed by some of those. A multi-headed bog dweller? I’ve yet to hear about any of those in the stories from my hometown!”

“Well, Twilight and her friends encountered that hydra,” said Spike, proud as if he had been there. “And they were able to outsmart it and live to tell the tale!”

“By Sifjarhár!” exclaimed Drakkar, turning to Twilight in shock. “Is that true?”

“Well, it wasn’t easy,” replied Twilight humbly, looking away with a snicker. “It’s true, though. We’ve had a few encounters with the creatures of the Everfree Forest, and we’ve been able to handle them. We try to avoid them, though.”

“That’s good,” admitted Drakkar with an approving nod. “Bravery and recklessness are two words that some of our young folks consider the same thing.”

From the Everfree Forest came howling sounds, which made both ponies’ ears perk up. Drakkar turned to face the dense vegetation with a frown and gritted teeth.

“Úlfar,” he growled, taking a step back and a defensive stance.

Twilight raised an eyebrow at his reaction, but quickly returned her attention towards one of the parchments, reading through it. “Úlfar… here it is! Úlfr, wolf,” said Twilight, looking back at Drakkar. “Those must be timberwolves.”

“T-t-timberwolves?” stuttered Spike as he jumped behind Twilight for cover.

“Don’t worry, Spike,” comforted Twilight while looking back at him. “Timberwolves seldom get out of the forest. We’re safe here.”

The fading howling was soon replaced by screams of terror. Twilight gasped as she recognized whose voices they were.

“The crusaders are in danger!” she cried. “Spike, run to Sweet Apple Acres and bring Applejack and Big Macintosh! Drakkar and I will try to make them flee or contain them until you bring them!”

“Right! On my way!” said Spike before rushing towards the farm.

“Okay,” she resumed, turning to Drakkar, “we must move, fast!”

As Twilight galloped towards the Everfree Forest, another scream, this time from a grown mare, made Drakkar’s eyes widen.

“That was Mjǫllna! Drakkar, we have to—” started Twilight as she turned to see if Drakkar was following him.

To her shock, Drakkar stood there, slowly lowering and shaking his head. His breathing slowly became more ragged and his chest went up and down frantically with faster and louder heartbeats. As she slowly walked closer to him with increasing concern, fearing an anxiety attack, Twilight noticed that tears were falling down from his face.

“Þat munn eigi verða aptr,” whispered Drakkar between his breathing,

“Drakkar, don’t cry. We’re going to save them, okay?” insisted Twilight, trying to look at him in the eyes despite his mane covering his face.

Drakkar’s horn began to shine intensely, to which Twilight reacted by jumping back. The giant stallion looked to the sky and let out a bellowing roar, different from those he had used since his arrival. It was louder, an ear-shattering and guttural war cry. When he looked forward, Twilight shrank at the narrow pupils and dripping saliva from his mouth. It was a feral effigy of the stallion she had been talking to mere minutes ago.

“Lát úlfunum kenni æðru!” he cried as he stood threateningly on his hind legs before charging to the forest.

Twilight was able to jump aside to avoid being overrun by mere inches. Coming back to her senses, she followed him as fast as her legs allowed her, considering that trying to teleport in front of him to put him to a halt seemed like the unsafest of any idea that had come to her. Unable to think of anything for now, Twilight kept the pace with difficulty, trying to come up with whatever had happened to Drakkar.

-o-

Mjǫllna had been able to put up a fight against the first three timberwolves, at least as long as they didn’t try to combine efforts or where gullible enough to fall in her feints and tricks. They seemed like younger wolves of a greater pack, though they were still able to put the mare against the ropes. In spite of that, Mjǫllna was still strong enough to deal with them, be it by swinging the large and strong branch like a mace or throwing boulders to keep them away from each other and preventing them from using combined attacks.

Despite her strength and having the situation slightly under control, as the fillies hid under a rocky formation behind her, the howling of these younger timberwolves had summoned the rest of the pack. What started as a small group of three became a small squadron of eight, the newcomers being larger and more fearsome that the former ones.

The creatures walked around Mjǫllna, completely surrounding her and ignoring the hidden fillies.

“Girls!” said Mjǫllna, grabbing the large branch with both hooves as she stared at the timberwolves. “They’re focused on me! Run!”

“We’re not leaving you behind!” replied Scootaloo with a growl.

“Do it!” demanded the mare as a timberwolf pounced towards her. She smacked it in the snout as she stepped aside, dodging the bite. With a battle cry, she wielded the branch with both hooves, ready for a sweeping strike. “I am Mjǫllna Eldstaðsdóttir, descendant of the shieldmare Gleipna Brýnhildóttir!” she announced with a challenging frown. “If I am to fall, I’ll take down as many of you with me as I can!”

Of the eight timberwolves, four crouched, getting ready to attack. Mjǫllna clenched the sturdy branch, hoping for the best. A mighty roar made the creatures’ ears perk up, looking at the direction it had come from. The fillies and Mjǫllna did the same, though the mare quickly focused on the beasts surrounding her.

“Hey, isn’t that Drakkar?” asked Apple Bloom with a hopeful smile.

“It sure sounds like him,” replied Sweetie Belle.

“Reinforcements right on time!” cheered Scootaloo, flapping her wings without lifting herself from the ground. “Just like in those Daring Do books Rainbow Dash likes so much!”

As the fillies had guessed, Drakkar appeared among the vegetation. The crusaders cheered victoriously, and Mjǫllna looked at him with a wide grin.

“Thank Freyja you’re here!” she said as Drakkar galloped towards them. “I feared that—” Her joy faded as she began to take a closer look at him. When she noticed his frenzied eyes, and how loud his roars were, she stepped back, keeping the branch in front of her. “Merciful Tyr, please, let this not be…” Without a second thought, she rushed past the timberwolves, which were focused now on the newcomer, and hid with the Crusaders. “Girls, stay behind me and don’t look!”

“What’s going on?” asked Apple Bloom.

“Yeah, why can’t we look?” added Scootaloo.

“My granny told me some legends about Scandineighvian ponies that became feral monsters in the battlefield,” she explained in a low voice without looking away from Drakkar. “With unmatched strength and primal fury, they didn’t distinguish friends from foes. We should stay out of sight and don’t call his attention until he calms down.”

“What if he finds us?” asked Sweetie Belle with a trembling voice.

Mjǫllna hugged the three fillies, pressing her faces against her chest to make sure they didn’t look at the fight. “I’ll protect you from him, I promise.”

One of the timberwolves began smelling the air around it, searching for Mjǫllna. Drakkar charged against it, impaling him with his horn and crashing him against a tree. The creature shattered into branches and leaves as Drakkar let out a ferocious and loud roar of victory before turning back to face the rest of the pack. A second wolf pounced towards him, but Drakkar jumped aside and used the momentum to tackle the beast down. To Mjǫllna’s horror, the stallion immobilized the monster with his front hooves and bit its neck, tearing its throat apart. The timberwolf let out a painful howl as it disintegrated.

Two of the biggest wolves jumped towards Drakkar, taking him down. He kicked one of the beasts’ hind legs, making it trip. With a frantic flail, he was able to throw the other one away, but not without getting his side scratched by its claws. After getting up, Drakkar roared at the remaining wolves as they snarled back at him. This time, four beasts charged, and Drakkar galloped head first against them. However, only two of them attacked him, the other two moved behind him, paying close attention to the small wound. Drakkar gripped both wolves’ necks with his hooves, snapping them with a bellowing roar that made the branches of the trees around him shake as the creatures turned to twigs under his hooves.

As he turned back to face the two behind him, the shattered timberwolves began recomposing, soon becoming the full pack of eight from the beginning. Despite having their ranks full again, the smaller wolves hesitated getting close to Drakkar. The larger ones, however, showed no fear, and the biggest of them all, apparently the alpha of the pack, took a step forward, throwing a challenging howl to Drakkar, to which he replied with a mighty roar. The rest of the pack moved away, creating a circle around the stallion and the alpha timberwolf.

The wolves howled to begin the match and the large beast jumped with its jaws wide open. Drakkar reacted by dashing under it, then bodily lifting the beast and throwing it at one of the smaller wolves. The stallion charged again, but the alpha timberwolf clawed him on his wounded side. The monsters surrounding them barked louder, despite Drakkar remaining impervious to the attack. Both combatants walked in circles without looking away from each other, exchanging roars, barks and howls. The wolf pounced at him, and Drakkar crouched for a moment, raising his head with a swift move, piercing the monsters’ lower jaw and rest of the skull. With a deafening war cry, Drakkar pounded the creature’s shoulders and pulled his neck back, shattering its head to pieces, after which it plummeted and turned into a mass of twigs and leaves.

As the stallion roared again and looked around him, the timberwolves stepped back, growling softly as they walked away. From afar, Mjǫllna noticed some ponies galloping towards them; Twilight, Applejack and Big Macintosh, with Spike running alongside the mare. Drakkar looked around him with his mouth open and still dripping saliva, his teeth slightly covered by dirt and broken splinters between them. When Twilight and her friends were close enough, Drakkar turned to face them with a roar.

“Twilight, be careful!” Mjǫllna cried, putting the fillies aside and gesturing to them for not to move from there. “Drakkar’s out of control!”

The stallion turned to face Mjǫllna and charged without a second thought. She reacted quickly by ducking and grappling him from below, grabbing both right legs causing him to trip. As both ponies reached the ground, Mjǫllna rolled away and jumped on him, trying to pin him down so he couldn’t get up. However, Drakkar seemed to be much stronger, and his struggling ended up freeing him from Mjǫllna’s grasp. Once he found himself released, he took her from the waist and raised her over his head, turning to face a bunch of boulders next to them. Big Macintosh galloped towards him, and was able to tackle him before Drakkar threw her. As Mjǫllna fell to the ground, Twilight and Applejack ran to her.

“Mjǫllna, what’s going on here?” asked Twilight without looking away from the two stallions.

“Drakkar’s become a berserker!” cried Mjǫllna as she got up and shook her head. ”We have to restrain him until he calms down again!”

“Well, Ahm sure mah big brother can take care of that,” said Applejack. “Where are mah sis and her friends?”

“They’re hidden in there,” replied Mjǫllna, pointing at the small cave. “They’ll be fine as long as they don’t move, but we have to help Big Macintosh!”

Big Macintosh had pushed Drakkar against a tree, forcing the air out of his lungs. Despite his strength, the farmpony soon found the feral stallion breaking free from his grapple, letting out a bellowing roar that made his rival step back in pain. Before Big Macintosh could react, Drakkar grabbed him and lifted him before throwing him against a tree.

“What in tarnation?! He beat mah brother!” said Applejack, her mouth agape.

“I’ll try to stop him; he won’t hesitate to bite in this state! Twilight, make sure the fillies are safe!” demanded Mjǫllna before darting towards Drakkar.

While Applejack pulled out her lasso, Twilight teleported next to the cave where the fillies were. When Mjǫllna tackled Drakkar, making him stumble and fall, Applejack threw the lasso, catching him by the neck. Knowing he was trapped, Drakkar bit the rope and pulled with all his strength, making Applejack fall, though she refused to let the rope go. As Drakkar was solely focused on the rope around his neck, Big Macintosh and Mjǫllna took the chance and immobilized him, lifting him and pushing him against a tree, each pony clenching one of his front legs.

“Vándir úlfar!” roared Drakkar as he tried with all his might to release himself from the grapple. “Þér tókuð Gisli af mér!”

Twilight galloped closer to them with her horn sparkling. Standing far enough to avoid his bites, the unicorn cast a spell on him, a magic aura surrounding Drakkar’s head. Slowly, his eyes began to close and his strength failed, causing him to collapse on the two ponies’ bodies.

“What have you—”

“It’s a sleeping spell, Mjǫllna,” interjected Twilight. He gestured with her hoof for the ponies to let Drakkar down. “Is everypony alright?”

“Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh with a painful grimace as he reached for his back.

“We’re fine too, right, girls?” asked Apple Bloom, to which her friends seconded with a nod

“So am I.” Mjǫllna lay down next to Drakkar, letting out a relieved sigh. “This is the stallion I know again.”

“What happened here?” asked Applejack. “Why was he acting all crazy?”

“Mjǫllna said something about berserker or something.” Twilight looked up her notes, slightly shaking her head. “He didn’t mention anything about them during our conversation.”

“Berserkers are warriors that can send themselves into a trance-like state,” explained Mjǫllna, caressing Drakkar’s mane. “Usually they drink an infusion or eat some hallucinogens that force them into that state.”

“Drakkar didn’t do any of those things,” said Twilight with a raised eyebrow. “He went crazy when he heard the timberwolves. By the way, what did he say before I put him to sleep? I only caught that he was referring to the wolves.”

“Cursing the wolves, yes,” confirmed Mjǫllna. “And then he said that they took Gisli from him.”

“Who’s Gisli?” asked Twilight.

“Ahm more concerned about what we’re gonna do with ‘im,” interjected Applejack with a frown. “Mjǫllna, after what Ah’ve seen today, Ah don’t want to see ‘im hanging around with mah sister. Ah hope y’all understand.”

“I… I understand,” said Mjǫllna, resting her head on Drakkar’s side.

“I’ll take care of him for now it you don’t mind, Mjǫllna”, offered Twilight. “I don’t know what happened here, but I want to help him. I can try to find out what made him turn into this and ways to avoid it from happening again.”

“Can you do that, Twilight?” asked Spike as he scratched his head.

“I can try, that’s all I can do for now. I’ll write Princess Luna; she might know something else about berserkers.” Twilight leaned down to face Mjǫllna. “Once you tell me everything you know about it, you should go home; you’d definitely earned some rest.” She then got up and looked at the Apple siblings. “You two should rest a bit.”

“Ah don’t like the idea of having you alone with him,” admitted Applejack.

Twilight shook her hoof with a smile. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle him with my magic. I was a bit shocked so I couldn’t react on time. But now that I know what to expect, even if he turns into this again, I’ll be able to subdue him.”

-o-

After helping Big Macintosh carry Drakkar to Twilight’s library, the Apple siblings accompanied Mjǫllna home. The fight with the wolves and Drakkar’s outburst had given her a couple bruises that would heal in a couple days. Mjǫllna was sitting in the living room, in front of the woodcarvings of the Æsir and Vanir her grandmother had always worshipped. She had never been a devout worshipper, but that night she prayed for Drakkar’s well-being. However, he wasn’t only in her mind because of that; hearing Gisli’s name had worried her. She had been making mental graphics about mares in Drakkar’s life. His mother’s name was Hani, and his older sister’s was Hveiti. He even talked about Kynngi, the seer who patrolled with him and the other hoofcarls during duty. Why he didn’t tell her about this Gisli concerned her.

Lost in her thoughts, Mjǫllna didn’t notice Hearth Fire walking down the stairs.

“Mjǫllna,” she called from the other end of the short hall. “What are you doing there? Why aren’t you with Drakkar as usual?”

“Mother, I just… need some time to relax,” replied Mjǫllna, doing her best to hold back all the rude responses she could’ve given her.

“Trouble in paradise, huh?” her mother insisted. “What happened?”

“Nothing, mother!” Mjǫllna threw an irritated glare at her mother, catching her off-guard and forcing her to take a step back instinctively. “I… I’m sorry, mother. I just—”

“It’s okay, sweetie. We all have a bad day every now and then.” Hearth Fire sat next to her, wrapping her daughter with one of her wings, looking at her with concern. “Can I help you with anything?”

Mjǫllna shook her head with her eyes closed. “This afternoon, Drakkar mentioned the name Gisli. I don’t know why it came up, but he hasn’t told me about her. Which is odd, for he mentioned every single mare in Scandineighvia he could think of.”

“Gisli, you say?” repeated Hearth Fire. “Yes it’s a female name. What were you doing when Drakkar mentioned her?”

“He was fighting a pack of timberwolves that ambushed us in the forest.” At Hearth Fire’s sudden gasp, Mjǫllna reacted quickly by raising both hooves. “I’m fine, just a couple bruises. He got it a bit worse, but no serious wounds.” Mjǫllna considered that, knowing her mother, skipping all the berserker part was the most appropriate move to make.

“Oh, my dear!” Hearth Fire hugged her tightly with both her hooves and wings. “You shouldn’t go to the forest, I always say it!”

“I took care of a couple of those creatures, mother,” she replied with a chuckle. “I’m a strong mare; I can handle a pooch or two without that much trouble.” Her boasting relaxed her; having another thing in her head that wasn’t Gisli really put a smile on her face, despite her mother’s obvious concern.

“Well, I’m glad you’re fine, but try not to push your luck out there,” Hearth Fire scolded lightly. “As for Gisli, I’m afraid that there’s only one explanation.” At those words, Mjǫllna’s ears perked up as she frowned, expecting some argument against Drakkar. “Gisli might be his fillyfriend or wife.”

Mjǫllna turned to face her mother, staring at her furiously. “How dare you make such an accusation?! What do you know about him for you to think that?!”

“I don’t know about him, but I know about stallions in general,” she replied as she looked at the different carvings in front of them. “There are some ponies that travel a lot that have a lover in every city they visit.”

“And you consider that Drakkar is like that because—”

“The reason is quite simple,” interjected Hearth Fire as she raised a hoof. “Now, allow me to explain. You’re well aware about Vínviðr and me becoming mothers at a pretty young age. And we weren’t even in Scandineighvia, where stallions would offer all they had for marrying the descendants of a war heroine like your great-grandmother.” Mjǫllna stared at her mother with widened eyes, slowly nodding at her words, to which Hearth Fire smiled. “I might not take pride of my heritage, but I had to learn about it due to Vínviðr’s insistence.”

“What does that have to do with Drakkar?” insisted Mjǫllna.

“How old is Drakkar?” inquired Hearth Fire.

The young mare blushed slightly, looking away. “I… I haven’t asked him yet. He looks older than me; late twenties probably, I don’t think he’s on his thirties yet.”

“And you really think that a hoofcarl his age hasn’t proposed even once?” replied Hearth Fire with a raised eyebrow.

Mjǫllna opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out at first. After a moment of muttering, she ditched any signs of distrust. “There are a lot of reasons for that to happen, mother! What if he hadn’t thought about having a soul mate until now? What if—”

“Mjǫllna, please, stop making a fool of yourself,” interjected Hearth Fire with a shake of her head. “I’ve tried to protect you from him, but you’ve been ignoring me until now. At this very moment I see you as frail as when you were a little filly. Now it’s the time when you have to listen to me. I’ve lived through much more than you and I’ve already seen this happen.”

“No, mother!” grunted Mjǫllna, exasperated before getting up and walking away. “Just leave me be!”

“Ask him, then.”

“I will! And he’ll give me a perfect explanation!”

“And you’ll believe him because he’s a drengr, right?” inquired Hearth Fire with a magnanimous shrug. The comment made Mjǫllna stand still. “That’s what he states, at least. We can’t go to Scandineighvia to verify his story. True, he might be one of those, but he could also be a pony who uses that word to have a blank check of trust from everypony. Because who’s going to question the word of a pony who never tells a lie, hmm?”

“I… I…” Mjǫllna shook her head fiercely in an attempt to ignore her mother’s words. “You’re wrong, and I’ll prove it to you!”

“A pony doesn’t hide something unless he’s ashamed of it,” continued Hearth Fire. “If he refuses to speak about Gisli, you know you’ll have hit something he didn’t want you know.” She slowly walked towards her daughter, stopping next to her. “I just want to protect you from being a stallion’s replacement mare until he returns to Scandineighvia and never comes back.”

“He… he’s not like that,” insisted Mjǫllna, walking away from her mother. “He will come back to me!”

“They never come back, Mjǫllna!” cried Hearth Fire as she stomped the floor in a burst of rage, which caught Mjǫllna by surprise. “How do I have to say it so you understand it?! He will not come back!”

“Drakkar isn’t like father; he will come back!” Mjǫllna’s ears drooped right after speaking those words as Hearth Fire stepped forward, her forehead barely touching her daughter’s.

“Leave Beamie out of this!” she screamed, vigorously flapping her wings. “You know nothing about it! You were a little brat when everything happened! What do you know about what happened between Beamie and I?! What?!” Her ragged breathing and piercing gaze lasted for a while, as Mjǫllna stood there, unable to react. After a moment, Hearth Fire took a deep breath, closing her eyes before speaking again. “Don’t ever talk about your father like that. Whatever happened only proves my point. As your father, Drakkar will leave too. At least you don’t have a foal to take care of on your own yet.”

With those words, Hearth Fire turned around, walking upstairs to her room, leaving Mjǫllna in the living room. She sat down for a moment, staring at the floor. After a moment, she returned to the carvings, looking at all of them with pleading eyes and lowered ears.

“Drakkar isn’t like that,” she said as she nickered softly. “I… I have to see him. I have to solve this.”

-o-

At Twilight’s library, Drakkar woke up shortly after getting there, but he barely moved or spoke to anyone. Fluttershy bringing Gullin and allowing Harry to stay around had made him smile for a while, but he soon returned to a mourning state. He tried not to rest on his wounded side, a fact that Twilight had noticed. She had treated it and had seen that it was more severe than she imagined at first, but was still far from one that would cause long term damage.

Twilight had decided that restraining Drakkar wasn’t necessary. Due to Mjǫllna’s explanations, she figured he should be in his normal state when he regained consciousness. Aside from that, she thought that, if Drakkar woke up and found himself without freedom to move, he would be much more worried and it would be much more troublesome to speak to him. For now, it seemed like she made the right decision, as the only emotions he showed were sorrowful. Whatever had happened for him to change like that, it was obvious that it was something he didn’t have control over.

“Drakkar, you have to understand,” started Twilight with a deeply concerned tone, “that I’m trying to help you.” Though she tried to keep eye contact with him, the stallion kept his head lowered, with his mane covering most of his face. “Drakkar, let me help you.”

“There’s nothing you can help with,” replied Drakkar sorrowfully. “I’m not comfortable being around here anymore.”

“Well, whatever happened to you at the Everfree Forest, it’s over for now.” Twilight searched through a few papers, shaking her head as she read them. “I’ve asked Mjǫllna to give me as much information about it. She mentioned the word—”

“Berserkr,” finished Drakkar with a weak nod. After an instant, he looked at Twilight with terrified eyes. “Mjǫllna! How is she? Did I hurt her? Please, tell me I didn’t hurt her or anypony!” Desperation flooded his eyes, making Twilight’s heart sink.

“They… they’re fine, Drakkar,” said Twilight, covering her mouth with a paper. “You saved them from the timberwolves, and they’re very grateful for what you did.” Drakkar let out a long, relieved sigh at Twilight’s words. It was obvious that mentioning how he hauled Big Macintosh against a tree or how he gripped Mjǫllna and almost threw her into a bunch of boulders before the four ponies were able to stop him was the last thing he needed to hear. “You’re here because I was able to use my magic to keep you under control and, while Mjǫllna explained what happened to you, we think that you should stay here until we find a way to… treat this condition of yours.”

“I understand,” admitted Drakkar with a short nod, though he raised an eyebrow at her comment. “I don’t really think this is something that can be cured.”

“That wasn’t the same trance from the real berserkers,” said Twilight, to Drakkar’s surprise. “What you have is a psychological scar, and something triggers a violent response. It is similar to the effects of the hallucinogens berserkers consumed before jumping into the battle field; the adrenaline pumping through your body makes you ignore wounds and become stronger,” she continued, pointing at his bandaged side. “The lack of self-preservation and inability to distinguish friend and foe is a huge problem, though.”

“You speak like this is something that can be healed,” insisted Drakkar with a frown.

“I’m neither a doctor nor a psychologist,” admitted Twilight, “but I have hopes about your condition being treatable. Maybe even controllable!”

“Maybe you can control when to summon the primal fury,” said Drakkar with a grunt, “but you can’t control when to release yourself from the grasp. You become a monster, Twilight. You saw me; you don’t need me to tell you. Part of your mind switches off, so you don’t remember what happens during the rage. Real berserkir feel no remorse for what they do in the battlefield, but I do, because I didn’t choose to be like this!” Drakkar pounded the table with both hooves, throwing an upset glare at Twilight. “If I can control when to summon it as you say, I want to never go through that again. Because I don’t want to hurt Mjǫllna, and you won’t always be there to put me down!”

“That’s very noble of you, Drakkar,” said Twilight with a comforting smile. “Don’t worry; the Princesses will surely send somepony to help you.”

Drakkar massaged his forehead, slowly looking around the library. On the upper floor, Spike was arguing with Gullin, who had decided to sleep on his bed. The young dragon seemed to be having a hard time trying to push him away, a scene that made the giant stallion smile for a moment, to Twilight’s relief. An unexpected knock at the door called both ponies’ attention.

Drakkar turned to Twilight. “Were you expecting somepony?”

“Not tonight,” replied Twilight with a quick shake of her head. “Maybe it’s for you. Please, come in!” she said loudly.

Right after she spoke, the door opened to reveal Mjǫllna, who closed the door behind her and showed a grim expression. Unaware of this, Drakkar got up from the chair and galloped towards her with a wide smile.

“Þórr be praised, you’re fine!” he cried, hugging her tightly before lifting her from the ground.

However, Mjǫllna’s expression didn’t change, not even returning the hug. She rested her front hooves on his shoulders. “Drakkar,” she said in a serious tone that made his ears droop, “we have to talk about what happened this evening.”

Drakkar looked away, closing his eyes while showing an ashamed grimace. “I’ve tried my best to control that through the years. Howling from wolves has had that effect on me since…” He trailed back with a shake of his head. “Well, since quite some time.”

“My granny told me legends about berserkers,” she admitted with a shudder. “Though, to be fair, seeing a one in action with my own eyes was... terrifying. She told me that they only got that way with an infusion made with certain herbs and mushrooms, though.”

“We’re not that knowledgeable concerning berserkir either, Mjǫllna,” replied Drakkar, barely able to keep eye contact. “Sometimes, something breaks you in such a way that you explode in a blind rage.”

“Does it have to do with Gisli?” asked Mjǫllna, unable to contain herself anymore.

Drakkar stood still, frozen in place as his face grew pale. With a mournful look, he slowly turned to her. “How… how do you know about her?”

“So I wasn’t just imagining things, after all,” replied Mjǫllna with a grunt. “You’ve been hiding this Gisli from me.”

“I didn’t consider appropriate to talk about it. It isn’t relevant,” said Drakkar as he walked again.

“And why is that, if I may ask?” she insisted, speaking in a snarky tone.

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Mjǫllna,” replied Drakkar. However, she trotted to get in front of him with a frown.

“But I do want to talk about it, Drakkar.”

Shaking his head slowly, he turned around and walked the other way. “I said no,” he replied with a disgruntled voice.

“Mjǫllna, now’s not the time,” interjected Twilight, getting up from the table and walking towards them.

With a huff, Mjǫllna galloped again to Drakkar, throwing a penetrating glare that made him take a step back as she stomped the ground in front of her. “I’m not letting you go until you tell me. Who is Gisli? Who is she?” she demanded, her muzzle mere inches away from his.

“Please, let it be, Mjǫllna,” begged Drakkar as he lowered his head and looked away. “I wouldn’t ask you this if it didn’t mean that much to me. I… I don’t want to talk about it. It’s part of my past, and I accept it as such,” he continued, clenching one of the pelt’s paws with his hoof. “But please, let it just be that.”

Mjǫllna shook her head violently. “If you want me, you have to tell me about Gisli. I don’t want to be anypony’s second course.”

“Second… what? W-what are you even talking about?” stuttered Drakkar, his hooves shaking as frustration flooded his mind. “What makes you think I…” To Twilight’s surprise, and Mjǫllna’s anger, the stallion laughed loudly, covering his eyes with a hoof. “Do you… do you have any idea of what you’re insinuating?”

“I don’t know; why don’t you tell me what you find so funny?” replied Mjǫllna, tapping the ground with a hoof.

“Look, Mjǫllna, I have no idea what’s happening, but you shouldn’t feel threatened about Gisli,” comforted Drakkar, trying to calm both Mjǫllna and himself.

“Then tell me who she is!” she insisted with increasing anger. “Tell me or lose me!”

“Mjǫllna, you’re going too far!” said Twilight, stepping between both ponies. “After what he’s gone through, this is the least he needs.”

“Step aside, Twilight,” demanded Mjǫllna, pushing her away without looking away from Drakkar. “Well, this is it. Your move.”

“Can anypony please explain me what’s going on?!” inquired Drakkar, exasperated. Seeing that Mjǫllna didn’t move from her spot, staring in anger at him, he closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. “Fine, I’ll tell you.” With a sorrowful grimace, he pointed at the head of bear pelt. “She is Gisli.”

Though Twilight raised an eyebrow at his answer, she didn’t seem to give the situation that much importance. However, Mjǫllna gritted her teeth with a growl.

“Do you think I’m stupid or something like that?!” shouted Mjǫllna, violently pounding the hooves on the floor. “You might think that because you’re a drengr I have to believe every single word that comes out of your mouth, but that? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”

Drakkar’s fear and mourning faded slowly to leave way to a frown. “I already told you who Gisli is.”

“No, you didn’t. You threw a lame excuse thinking that I’d believe in your ‘everything I say is the truth’ thing,” replied Mjǫllna. “I refuse to date a stallion that thinks I’m that gullible.”

When she was about to leave the library, Drakkar pushed the door closed, resting his weight on it while looking down at Mjǫllna. “You called me a liar,” he grunted as he breathed raggedly. During his speech, he took frequent pauses, trying to control his anger. “You’re not leaving without apologizing.”

“Apologizing? Me?” repeated Mjǫllna with a loud, sarcastic laugh. “You’re the one who should be begging for mercy, you double-crossing nitwit!” At her words, Drakkar’s horn began to sparkle, as well as his throat, at which she replied with a shake of her head. “Your roaring won’t scare me.”

Startled, Drakkar took a step back, slowly shaking his head. “I… I don’t have to put up with this. You, of all ponies in Equestria, should know that I wouldn’t lie, much less to you.”

“That’s what you’d like me to think, huh?” replied Mjǫllna, keeping as close to him as possible.

“Enough!” he cried as he walked past her. “You want me to tell you everything?! I will tell you everything tomorrow morning. But we’re done, and I’m returning to Scandineighvia! I already have all the updated maps; the remaining research can go to Hel!”

“Drakkar, Mjǫllna, please stop!” shouted Twilight.

“I need some fresh air,” admitted Drakkar with a grunt as he walked out of the library. As he opened the door, he almost walked over Vínviðr, apologetically nodding to her before trotting away.

“What was that about?” asked Twilight, sitting on the table and resting her weight on her left forehoof. “Why would you act like that? I thought you loved each other!”

“Apparently I’m not the only mare in his life,” replied Mjǫllna bluntly. “I’m not a mare who likes being toyed with.”

“What in the Nine Realms is going on?” inquired Vínviðr, befuddled. She slowly got to the table and left a food basket on it. “I brought some treats for Drakkar as thanks for helping you out there.”

“He’s not going to stay in Equestria much longer,” replied Mjǫllna. “And for what I care, he could leave this same night.”

“Why? What’s happening here?” Vínviðr insisted, slowly getting more concerned about the situation.

“Drakkar has a mare in Scandineighvia, and that scoundrel didn’t say a thing about her!” said Mjǫllna with a frown.

“What?!” Vínviðr stared at her with widened eyes. “He didn’t look like that kind of pony to me.”

“He refused to tell me about Gisli, so I began to think that he was hiding somepony from me.”

“Gisli?” she repeated. At the sound of the name, Vínviðr frowned, walking towards her granddaughter, her voice sounding overwhelming. “Who told you that Gisli was a female name? Was it your mother, by any chance?”

“When…” Her grandmother’s sudden change of mood startled Mjǫllna slightly, words coming out slower, as if dubious of her previously foolproof arguments. “When Drakkar suffered his berserk, the mentioned Gisli’s name, and… and mother told me it was a female name, and told me—”

Vínviðr raised a hoof, interrupting her granddaughter. There was an uncomfortable silence that seemed to last forever. Even Twilight, who had nothing to do with the conversation, shivered at the sensation that flooded her library. After a moment, Vínviðr spoke, and the disappointment in her voice pulled Mjǫllna down.

“Your mother forgot to mention a very important detail,” she started. “Gisli is a female name, true. But what she ‘accidentally’ forgot to mention is that Gisli is a pet name.”

Those words shattered Mjǫllna’s arrogance as she stared at her grandmother, her face growing paler by the second. “P-p-pet name?” she stuttered, shaking her head in an attempt to vanish the new theory away.

“But he pointed at his pelt insisting on that being Gisli,” interjected Twilight. Inside her mind, a mental picture spawned that made her shake in terror. “Please, don’t tell me—”

“It’s a possibility,” said Vínviðr with a nod. “However, there are other explanations. It isn’t uncommon to give names to objects of any kind that have certain emotional value. Swords, for example, are family heirlooms, and most of them have names. If Drakkar has a bond of any kind with that pelt, which wouldn’t be strange considering that it’s his symbol as a hoofcarl, it shouldn’t be odd to have it named too.”

“So Mjǫllna was tricked?” asked Twilight.

“I’m going back home, and you should come with me, Mjǫllna,” said Vínviðr. “I must have a serious talk with your mother.”

“Drakkar said he’d explain everything tomorrow morning,” said Twilight, feeling totally out of place.

“I’ll make sure that Mjǫllna’s here for it,” replied Vínviðr. With a slow shake of her head and a tired sigh, she turned to the door. “Come, dear; we must let Drakkar rest for now.”

Vínviðr left the library, followed closely by Mjǫllna. The mare looked back inside the library, expecting a reassuring gesture from Twilight; anything would’ve worked. However, Twilight gave her a sad gaze in return, showing that she had nothing. Defeated and ashamed of having let herself be tricked in such a way, Mjǫllna closed the door behind her, leaving Twilight with Spike and Gullin, who had both remained in the upper floor, trying not to get involved. After a silent moment, the young assistant walked down the stairs.

“Twilight,” he said as reached the base of the stairs, expecting Twilight to look at him. The fact that she didn’t move her sight from the table made him shiver slightly. “Twilight, is everything going to be okay?”

“I wish I knew, Spike,” admitted Twilight with a sorrowful sigh. “I haven’t spent that long with Drakkar, but he doesn’t look like the kind of pony who takes such things lightly.”

“Can’t Mjǫllna just apologize? I mean, she already knows that Gisli’s a pet name. Wouldn’t that work?”

“I’m afraid that it’s not that simple, Spike,” corrected Twilight with a shake of her head. “This is pride we’re talking about. Mjǫllna thought that Drakkar was cheating on her and called him a liar. To a pony of his position, and coming from her, that was a huge offense. An apology won’t do anything.”

“But she was tricked!” insisted Spike. “There simply must be a way to make Drakkar see that!”

“If there’s a way to solve this, I don’t know about it yet,” she admitted, slowly reading through the papers. “I’ll try to think of something, but I must be very careful; if I do it wrong, we might get into serious trouble.”

Author's Notes:

Translation time!

“Múspellssónr rís af fjarri,” = The children of Múspell rise from afar.

“Þat munn eigi verða aptr,” = It won't happen again.

“Lát úlfunum kenni æðru!” = Let the wolves know fear!

Breyting af hjarta

Breyting af hjarta (A change of heart)

Hearth Fire locked herself in her bedroom. It was a small place, with her king size bed occupying about half the room’s floorspace. Two nightstands flanked it, one on each side. Across the room stood a large mirror, with a small office table on its left and a wardrobe on its right. There was only a window in the room that covered the whole upper half of the wall that faced the door.

As she lay on the bed, she shook her head with a sigh. Despite Mjǫllna’s suffering, she was convinced that, on the long run, her daughter would look back at this moment and thank her for it, and much more after finding a nice stallion in Ponyville for her. Hearth Fire was lost on her thoughts, wondering if Big Macintosh was still dating Cheerilee, when she looked through the window, noticing the back clouds that were covering the night sky.

“That’s odd,” she said with a raised eyebrow as she walked towards the window. “The weather forecast didn’t say anything about a thunderstorm.”

Hearth Fire shrugged the oddity off as she returned to her thoughts, sitting at her office table, right next to a large mirror that rested in front of her bed. When the first thunder echoed throughout the room and the lightning flash flooded the room, she hopped from the chair, turning to the window. Her empty lungs begged for air as she heaved and rested her forehooves on the table in an attempt to recover from the shock. As she slowly caught her breath and recovered from the sudden fright, she let out a soft snicker at her own gullibility.

“Those pegasi have overdone themselves this time,” she said, turning back to look at the papers in front of her.

When she was about to take her quill, she spotted something through the corner of her eye. She would’ve sworn that there was a reflection in the mirror, but when she tried to look at it, there was nothing there; she could only see her room and herself in it. She shook her head in disbelief, sighing at her own imagination, before returning to her writing. The scratching of the quill against the paper was the only sound between the thunders outside for a short while. When she had a small draft in front of her, she looked at the mirror again and noticed that her fiery red mane had gone messy, to which she let out a slightly annoyed huff. On the other side of the room rested a large cupboard with a pair of saddlebags hanging from its left side. Hearth Fire grabbed the brush inside it and combed those rebel hairs.

“Perfect!” she exclaimed proudly. “That should do it.”

As she spoke those words, another flash of lightning happened, once again covering the room with a blinding light, the thunder coming immediately after it. When it faded, what Hearth Fire saw on the mirror made her drop the comb and jump to the bed with her mouth wide opened but unable to scream, her face twisted with an expression of horror.

Instead of her reflection, in front of her was standing a completely different mare. Her coat was the color of tempered bronze, protected by an iron chain shirt. A steel circlet with decorative wings welded to its sides could be barely seen under her long, wavy mane of silver. On her right shoulder rested an exquisitely elaborated spear that was as long as herself, with runes painted on the weapon’s wooden shaft and forged on its head. Her bleached gold-colored eyes looked down on Hearth Fire with a soul piercing frown.

Hearth Fire’s lips trembled as she tried in vain to form words. The mare in reflecting in the mirror was a familiar face, but the deep anger in her eyes didn’t help to lessen the shock. “G-g-g-grandma Gleipna?” she stuttered. The reflection didn’t move a muscle, simply staring at Hearth Fire with a threatening gaze. “H-how are you… this is impossible! What are you? Speak!” Again, there was no answer. With a huff, Hearth Fire looked out of the window with a frown. “Mjǫllna’s friends must be out there, playing a prank on me for what I did. How dare they try to trick me into thinking my ancestors are plotting against me?!” she added with a growl.

She got up from her bed, ignoring the mirror as she walked towards the window, shouting to nopony in particular. “Very funny, ponies! Leave me alone already! And let the deceased rest in peace!” she cried in anger, taking another moment to keep looking around for Mjǫllna or any of her friends. Finding nopony, she returned to her bed, checking the mirror to see that, as she expected, the reflection wasn’t there anymore. Hearth Fire shook her head. ”Those meddling mares can’t understand it; I did for her own good! She couldn’t have fallen in love with him that fast!”

Lightning struck once more, but neither the sound nor the light called Hearth Fire’s attention this time. However, her ears perked up at the sound of a familiar voice. She looked to her right, her jaw dropping as the mirror showed her something she’d never expected to see.

-o-

“Fillies and gentlecolts!” announced Mayor Mare with pride. “Hold on to your seats, for today we have a very special show for you! Cheer with all the strength your lungs allow you to, for here comes… the Wonderbolts!”

As the renowned pegasi flew over the sky, flooding it with their trademarked stormy trails, the crowd whistled and cried in pure joy. Among them, a teenage Eldstaðr raised her front hooves, shouting ferociously.

“By Gjallarhorn!” she said with a broad smile. “Even the famed Svaðilfar would have trouble outrunning those pegasi.”

Next to her, Vínviðr snorted softly at her daughter’s comments. “I don’t think he’d have that much of a hard time, but their speed is still impressive.”

“Well, this is going to be exciting to see,” admitted Eldstaðr.

“Of course it’s going to be!” exclaimed a pegasus next to her. “These are the best fliers in Equestria!”

Eldstaðr looked at the stallion, who showed a wide grin with pearl white teeth. He was a young and well-toned Pegasus with a teal coat and wavy, shoulder-length silvery mane and tail. When he spoke, he didn’t look away from the Wonderbolts.

“They’re really good indeed!” admitted Eldstaðr joyfully.

“Every pegasus I know would love to join them!” continued the stallion, flapping his wings frantically.

Eldstaðr chuckled, shaking her head with a smile. “Well, not anymore, I’m afraid. I’m not interested in joining them.”

The stallion quickly turned with widened eyes, staring at her in disbelief. “You can’t be serious!”

“I am,” she said with a shrug. “I’m fine with what I do now.”

“And what do you do that’s better than joining the Wonderbolts?”

“I’m a blacksmith apprentice,” she stated proudly as she hit her chest. “My mother’s teaching me the family business. We’ve been the local blacksmiths in Ponyville for three generations!”

To this statement, the stallion couldn’t avoid raising an eyebrow. “Well, that’s something I’d never heard before.”

“Hope you don’t have any problem with that,” taunted Eldstaðr as she flexed her right front leg, showing off her toned muscles. “I’m sure I can wipe the floor with your flank if you do,” she added with a wink.

The stallion looked at his own front legs; they were fibrous, but not bulky at all. While Eldstaðr wasn’t that buffed, she still looked much stronger than him. “I… don’t think I want to try it,” he said, focusing his attention back on the Wonderbolts, who were getting to the grand finale.

Eldstaðr chuckled, crossing her front legs in front of her as she kept the balance with the flapping of her wings. “You’re a fun guy. What’s your name?”

“I’m Solar Beam.” As he spoke those words, the Wonderbolts performed their final trick, creating three rings in the sky over the public and spiraling them up, making a tower of thunder clouds. Thunders struck rhythmically as the flashes of lightning created patterns that resembled the very same Wonderbolts that were performing. “Woah, that’s awesome!” cheered Solar Beam.

Eldstaðr nodded at his words. “Solar Beam the Wonderbolt? It suits you.”

With a light blush, Solar Beam looked at her, letting out a humble smile. “Do… do you really think so?”

“Of course! Sounds magnanimous!”

“Gosh, I… never considered it like that,” he replied shyly. “What’s your name?“

”Eldstaðr,” she announced with a proud grin. “Eldstaðr Vínviðsdóttir.”

To this, Solar Beam’s eyes widened as he seemed to be trying to repeat the name to himself. After a few failed tries, he shook his head with a sad grimace.“Would you mind if I called you Eldi? I don’t think I’ll be able to say your whole name correctly even once.”

Eldstaðr chuckled, pushing her long, fiery mane aside. “I guess I won’t mind, Beamie.” She spoke the last word with a slightly mocking tone, but showing a playful smile.

“Oh, I… guess I don’t mind you calling me that,” replied Solar Beam with a more intense blush.

“But only if you agree to have wrestling match,” added Eldstaðr with a satisfied smirk.

Solar Beam stepped back, barely pushing another pony back. “W-what?”

“We have an old saying in Scandineighvia: you don’t know a mare until you’ve had a strong drink and a hooffight with her,” she quoted as she turned to her mother, whispering something to her ear.

The stallion stared at the mare for a moment, forgetting himself in her exotic charm. Her messed up red mane rested sensually on her strong shoulders and lay on the upper part of her back, contrasting with absolute perfection with her yellow coat. There was something in her bright orange eyes that called his attention as she casually threw inquisitive glances at him. Trying not to look rude or brazen, he quickly peeked at her cutie mark through the corner of his eye, seeing a perfectly clear, cozy-looking bonfire. The tip of Hearth Fire’s tail slowly brushed the floor under it.

Solar Beam took a deep breath before speaking.”I… I think I like the idea,” he said with a blush. “But I wouldn’t like anypony to get hurt.”

Hearth Fire laughed it off as she rested a hoof on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Beamie,” she replied with a wink. “I’ll be gentle this time.”

-o-

Hearth Fire stared at the mirror in awe, noticing that even the smallest detail of that day had been perfectly portrayed. The conversation, the setting and even the little mannerisms she used to have as they flirted were nailed. She looked at her front hooves in shock, noticing that the muscle mass from her youth long gone. She was still a fit and healthy mare, but far from the imposing one she was back then. There was no way any of her daughter’s friends could know about this, and even if Vínviðr had told them about it, the precision of details was perfect.

Her mind raced through memories of what her mother had taught her about supernatural creatures. She discarded the draugr, for they had physical bodies, although rotten, and Gleipna looked as if she did when alive. The fact that it was her own grandmother made her also push away the idea of her being a fylgja, for those were spirit animal companions. Landvættir were the ones that looked over the prosperity of the land and, while that possibly meant that there might be at least one in Sweet Apple Acres, they wouldn’t take Gleipna’s form. Then she came to a realisation, her body slightly trembling at the thought of having invoked the ire of a dís, the protector spirits attached to a family. Remembering what Vínvðr told her about them, she came to the conclusion that the ghost was using its nature-bending powers to control the thunderstorm. Another flash of lightning erased the scene from the mirror, showing once again the reflection of the armored mare. Her face, however, showed an incredulous grimace, as if she didn’t believe Hearth Fire’s forgetfulness.

That expression relaxed Hearth Fire a bit. “So it’s really you, granny,” she said with a slightly uneasy tone. “Are you going to mock me for what happened with Beamie? Yes, I was very young and gullible, and I liked him! It was odd; it felt like I was the stallion in the relationship.” Hearth Fire shook her head violently with a huff, walking towards her bed. “Look at me, talking to a mirror. I must be becoming crazy.” She then turned back to the mirror, noticing that she was reflecting again in the mirror. As she let out a relieved sigh, she continued to speak. ”Well? Is that all you have? You just showed me that I was as stupid as she is now! The only difference is that I know that things will end up badly!”

Another flash of lightning accompanied by thunder was the only reply as another scene began reflecting in the mirror.

-o-

“Dinner will be ready in a moment, Beamie!” said Eldstaðr from the kitchen.

Solar Beam, however, wasn’t paying attention to her; instead, his eyes were solely focused on the months old foal who lay in the pillow in front of him. With an ochre coat that matched the sofa she was on, the filly playfully waved her hooves around. Her short cream mane was tied up with a bow in a ponytail. She looked with her light brown eyes at Solar Beam.

“Did you hear that, Mjǫllna?” he asked with a smile as he took the months-old filly from the sofa and lifted her above his head. “Mommy’s making dinner!”

Solar Beam took off, slowly flying in circles over the furniture for Mjǫllna to enjoy the ride, but not fast enough to make her sick. It had taken a few disastrous and icky attempts to get it right, but the uncontrollable laughter of the foal as she felt the wind on her face was worth everything for the stallion.

After a short flight, Solar Beam put Mjǫllna on the couch again, moving slightly to the side and waving his wing over her. The foal tried to grab the feathers, but every time she was about to touch them, Solar Beam lifted them, only to lower them again and tickle Mjǫllna’s belly, causing her to giggle frantically and wiggle her legs to try shooing the feathers away.

Solar Beam lowered his head to snuggle his nose against Mjǫllna’s. As she giggled, the foal stretched her forelegs, trying to grab her father’s face. Ignored by the two ponies, Eldstaðr flew out of the kitchen with a smoking pot, turning to see her family playing together. Her long mane was tied up and covered by an orange silken hood, just like Vínviðr’s.

“Beamie, I thought I told you not to play too much with Mjǫllna before dinner,” said Eldstaðr with a concerned voice, but without losing her smile. “She gets tired and doesn’t eat her food.”

Mjǫllna stopped giggling for a moment, still showing a wide, toothless grin before softly biting Solar Beam’s muzzle. The stallion couldn’t hold a chuckle as the foal began sucking his nose. “I think she’s more hungry than she is tired, Eldi,” he replied as he carefully lifted Mjǫllna.

“I’m going to put this on the table for it to cool down a bit,” she said with a nod, slowly resting the pot on the table. “Put Mjǫllna on her chair while I call mother for dinner too.”

“Will do!”

As Eldstaðr went outside to the smithy, Solar Beam flew across the room making “whoosh” sounds as Mjǫllna clapped and laughed. After a couple flips, the stallion landed next to the filly’s high chair, sitting her there before fastening the safety belt and lowering the tray.

“The things I have to do for you not to try and run away from dinner,” said Solar Beam with a chuckle.

Both Eldstaðr and Vínviðr walked inside to see Solar Beam serving the soup in all four dishes. Once he was done, he flew over the table and grabbed a jug, pouring water in each of the three drinking horns on the table and the small plastic glass in front of Mjǫllna’s chair. The mares took their seats as they witnessed Solar Beam cooling the foal’s soup by fanning with his wings, to which she applauded with a chuckle.

“Now, Mjǫllna, get ready, for here comes the tired Wonderbolt, ready to get home. Whoosh!” he said, moving the small spoon around carefully for the soup not to spill. The followed the tip of the spoon with her eyes. When it got close enough, she opened her mouth, waiting for the tasty soup.

“Beamie,” said Eldstaðr, blowing to her own plate to cool it, “if you only feed Mjǫllna, your soup will be cold already.”

“Leave him, Eldstaðr,” interjected Vínviðr as she rested a hoof on her daughter’s shoulder. “They’re both enjoying themselves. Besides, I love seeing Mjǫllna eat without giving as much trouble as she usually does,” she added with a giggle

“I have no idea how he does it,” admitted Eldstaðr with a shrug. She smiled as she saw Solar Beam cleaning the dripping soup away from Mjǫllna’s muzzle with a napkin. “But I better learn to do it,” she continued, chuckling at the heartwarming scene.

-o-

Hearth Fire was staring at the mirror in disbelief, but with a slowly growing nostalgic smile. As the scene went on, she peacefully sat on the floor, keeping her attention on Solar Beam. Her mind rushed through her own past, remembering every single moment where her husband and Mjǫllna were together. It was impossible to see the stallion without a smile in her face when the foal was around. Dazzled by the scene, she slowly moved her hoof closer to the mirror, trying to caress her husband.

When she was about to rest her hoof on the mirror, a flash of lightning removed the scene, replacing it with Gleipna’s reflection once more. Despite being the third time it happened, it caught her off-guard, making her jump away from the armored mare’s image. As she breathed heavily from the shock, she noticed that the spirit’s facial expression was different again; her eyes showed concern and had a small, condescending smile.

“What do you want to say with this?” grunted Hearth Fire as she slowly regained composure. “That I should’ve let them be together because having foals makes everything better? I love Mj͑ǫllna, and I’ll never regret bringing her to this world, but I refuse to believe that she should date a stallion who’s going to leave and never come back!” The mare took a step forward, facing the ghost’s reflection with a frown. “If you’re really the protector spirit of my family and know everything about my life, where were you when Solar Beam left and left me shattered? Where?!” she demanded in a fit of rage.

Though Hearth Fire expected a thunder and a flash of lightning, the former was much louder than the previous ones, forcing her to cover her ears and close her eyes. Once the sound had faded, she noticed the cries of a foal. She looked up to see the new scene the mirror was projecting.

-o-

Vínviðr stood at the house’s door, with Mjǫllna resting on her foreleg. In front of the mare, outside the house, Solar Beam had a couple full saddlebags and tried to avoid eye contact with her.

“Solar, please,” pleaded Vínviðr with a comforting voice. “Eldstaðr didn’t mean any of what she said.”

“No, Vínviðr, she’s right,” replied Solar Beam with a shake of his head. “I’m not worthy of being Mjǫllna’s father. I should be better, but I’m only a failure after another.”

“You don’t have to be a Wonderbolt or anything special to show that you deserve being a worthy parent,” explained Vínviðr, taking a step forward and resting her free hoof on his shoulder. “I’ve seen enough to know that you’re a wonderful father.”

Mjǫllna stretched her tiny forelegs forward, trying to reach for her father. “Yaya,” she said as she attempted to set free from her grandmother’s grip.

Vínviðr looked at the filly, and then turned to Solar Beam. “Please, do it for her.”

Tears fell down the stallion’s cheeks as he stared at the filly in front of him. Taking a step forward, he lowered his head to let Mjǫllna hug his face as she used to do.

“I’m sorry, Mjǫllna,” he said between sobs. “I’ll make sure you won’t lack anything, I promise.”

“Then stay, Solar,” insisted Vínviðr. “Be the father the filly needs.”

Solar Beam took a step back, releasing himself from the foal’s hug, which made her smile turn into a frown. “I’m not what she deserves; I can’t be here.”

Without those words, the stallion slowly turned around and flapped his wings to fly away.

“Yaya!” shouted the Mjǫllna, trying even harder to set herself free and grab Solar. “Yaya! Yaya!”
Vínviðr hugged the filly, kissing her head as the crying got muffled by the mare’s chest.

“Mjǫllna,” said Vínviðr with a tender voice before wiping the tears from the foal’s face. “Don’t be mad at Solar Beam. We’re going to make him proud of you.”

Mjǫllna sobbed as she looked at her grandmother. “Ya… yaya?” she insisted, her lower lip trembling as she tried to contain her desire to keep on crying.

“He will return, Mjǫllna. I don’t know when, but when he feels he’s ready. For now,” she continued while swinging the small filly, “I trust that he’ll fulfill his promise. And don’t get angry at your mother either, my dear; we Scandineighvians are passionate ponies. Our emotions are more intense than Equestrians’. I’ll talk to her when you get to sleep.”

Vínviðr looked up to the sky, seeing how Solar Beam disappeared in the horizon. When he was nowhere to be seen anymore, the mare walked inside the house and closed the door behind him.

-o-

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Without letting the scene finish, Hearth Fire grabbed the mirror and turned it around, the wooden back facing the crying mare.

“You died before I even met Beamie!” she yelled as she pointed at the flipped furniture. “You know nothing! You can’t judge me! I didn’t want him to leave us! To leave me! I didn’t know that it had affected him that much! And what happened there has nothing to do with what I did with Mjǫllna and Drakkar!”

Another flash of lightning flooded the room, but Hearth Fire didn’t see whatever would be reflected this time. However, her fur stood on end as she thought of the spirit’s possible reactions. With a gulp, the mare took a step back.

“Y-you’ve given your opinion,” stuttered Hearth Fire, slowly crawling to the bed’s pillow without looking away from the mirror. “B-but what’s done is done!” Her voice sounded warped by doubt and fear, but she tried her best to ignore those emotions that threatened to shatter her adamant decision.

Once she reached the pillow, she got under the sheets. Hearth Fire looked at the turned mirror through the corner of her eye every now and then, curious about what might be reflecting on it at the time. However, the fear of actually seeing what was there kept her in bed as the mixture of emotions kept her awake for a long time until exhaustion finally allowed her to sleep.

-o-

As they walked back home from Twilight's library, Vínviðr had been trying to cheer her granddaughter up, but her efforts had taken her nowhere.

“We should try crafting something together,” offered Vínviðr with a forced smile. “Just like the good old days when you were a filly. What do you say?”

“I don't want to disturb the neighbors,” said Mjǫllna with a weak shake of her head.

“That wasn't a problem half a year ago, when I had to apologize to the ponies in your name due to your ceaseless work,” she replied with a smirk. However, it slowly faded away as Mjǫllna shook her head again.

“I just... don't feel like working at the smithy now, granny. Thanks for trying to cheer me up, though,” she added as she turned to face her grandmother with a weak smile.

Her gesture was welcomed by a sad frown that, as they reached their house and opened the door, was quickly replaced by a furious one. Not even the idea of working on the craft that earned her cutie mark would put a smile on her face. When she was a little filly, she saved bits of her allowance to buy herself some earmuffs so the sound of the hammer against metal didn't hurt her small ears and could stay with her. She found joy in the most monotonous of tasks; she just wanted to help and learn the profession. The older she became, the more responsibilities Vínviðr would allow her to take. She still remembered the day Mjǫllna got her cutie mark; when she became fifteen and her training was over, she was free to use the smithy without supervision, and crafted a solid, if not really aesthetic-looking, shield. It served its purpose, though, and her trademark hammer and lightning bolt appeared on her haunches shortly after. Blacksmithing had always meant the world to her, and that experience only enhanced that feeling. Knowing that not only that would cure Mjǫllna's sadness only made Vínviðr despise Hearth Fire even more.

“I'm going to have a serious talk with your mother,” announced Vínviðr as she began walking up the stairs to Hearth Fire's room. “Nopony makes my little Mjǫllna cry and gets away with it,” she added with a soft growl.

“Granny, no!” she cried as she grabbed her left foreleg and softly pulled it towards her. “Please, stay with me. I don't want to be left alone.” Mjǫllna's eyes were red, and her grip on Vínviðr's leg was strong but not enough to hurt.

The sight of her shattered granddaughter made the mare's anger fade away. Letting her issues aside, Vínviðr turned to Mjǫllna and hugged her tightly. “Of course, my dear,” she said while caressing Mjǫllna's mane. “I'll stay with you.”

Without more words, Vínviðr guided Mjǫllna towards the small bench in the living room with the different carvings that represented the Æsir and Vanir. She then sat her in front of Freyja, Goddess of magic and love.

“I know you aren't as devoted as I was,” said Vínviðr as he kept both hooves on Mjǫllna's shoulders, “but I'm sure that a prayer to Freyja might make her show mercy of you and help you stay together.”

“But granny, I don't think-”

“Shh,” interrupted Vínviðr, hugging her granddaughter from behind. “It's okay. We'll try it anyway.”

“But it's not fair for the Gods,” interjected Mjǫllna. “I've been able to do everything on my own until now.”

“It's not a sign of weakness to pray,” explained Vínviðr. “Expose the goddess your prayer with all the strength of your heart, and she will try and help us in these dark times.”

Mjǫllna, feeling her grandmother's warm words, nodding as her lips trembled when Vínviðr moved aside and sat next to her. Mjǫllna's eyes widened as she saw Vínviðr in front of an idol representing Frigg, Goddess of Marriage.

“Granny!” she exclaimed with a gasp.

Vínviðr chuckled at her granddaughter's reaction. “I know. I suppose that she might lend us a hoof too. Besides,” she added with a smile, “if he's been able to make you so happy, you both have my blessing.”

“But we never talked about that yet,” replied Mjǫllna with a raised eyebrow.

Laughing at how Mjǫllna's sorrow had been momentarily replaced for surprise, Vínviðr tapped her granddaughter's shoulder with a hoof. “Being a Scandineighvian stallion himself, he wouldn't take much longer before proposing. Let's just say I'd rather cover all the bases.”

For the first time since the incident, Mjǫllna let out a short giggle, her slips showing a sincere smile. “Thank you, granny. I means a lot to me.”

“I wouldn't do this if it didn't, Mjǫllna,” she assured with a condescending nod. She then looked behind them, glancing at the couch they had in the opposite end of the room. “We could get us a blanket so we could stay here tonight. What do you say?”

“Are we going to pray that long?” inquired Mjǫllna.

“As long as you need,” replied Vínviðr before pecking her granddaughter's cheek.

Both mares closed their eyes and lowered their heads as they internally chanted prayers in their heads.

-o-

In Twilight’s library, the first beams of the morning sun lit the wooden floor as they entered through the window. Drakkar was leaning on the table, his forelegs supporting his weight as he stared at the door with a saddened grimace. Neither Spike nor Twilight knew what to say to him. The young dragon had made breakfast for the three of them, and the uncomfortable silence that overwhelmed the room made the tension even worse to stand. The only reactions they could get from Drakkar were approving nods the first time he tried the pancakes with maple syrup.

The three of them looked at the door when knocks were heard.

“Come in!” said Twilight with a raised eyebrow.

“We don’t usually get visits until much later,” admitted Spike.

The door opened, letting Applejack, Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash in. The former had a concerned look on her face, while the other two were overjoyed to see the giant stallion.

“Drakkar!” called Rainbow Dash as she flew towards him.

“Bifrǫst. Didn’t expect you to be here,” replied Drakkar with a slowly growing smile.

“Are you kiddin’?” she asked, spreading her front hooves in disbelief. ”I want to hear about that fight with the timber wolves! Applejack told me that you owned a whole pack by yourself!”

“She did?” repeated Drakkar as she turned to face the farmpony.

“Ah skipped the nasty details,” said Applejack with a reassuring nod.

“But I wanted to hear about those!” insisted Rainbow Dash, staying in mid air. “How did you get rid of them? How many were there?”

At the sudden wave of questions, Drakkar raised both front hooves. “Bifrǫst, please, I’d rather not talk about that right now.”

“But I’m sure it’s super duper amazing!” exclaimed Pinkie Pie with a jump. “You saved three fillies from those meanies!” As she spoke those words, she began punching the air around her while screaming karate cries. “Take that! And that! And this! Hii-ya!” How she was able to stand on her hind legs with a front hoof stretched forward and a face that looked like she suffered from constipation was a mystery to all the ponies in the room. After staying in that position for a short while, she returned to a normal stance, hopping next to Rainbow Dash. “I’m sure Mjǫllna’s really proud of you!” she added with a wink.

“Girls, it’s not a good time to talk about that,” warned Twilight with a worried voice as Drakkar lowered his head.

“Why? What happened?” asked Rainbow Dash, shrugging.

“Apparently Mjǫllna got tricked into believing that Drakkar had a fillyfriend in his homeland,” explained Twilight, keeping an eye on Drakkar for his behavior. Luckily, he didn’t seem to be moody or reacting in any way at her words.

“What?! Who’d do such a thing?” inquired Applejack with anger.

“Mjǫllna’s mother, for what Vínviðr told us last night,” replied Spike as he rested his crossed arms on his chest. “Drakkar said he’d tell who Gisli was and then he would return to Scandineighvia.”

“But you know she was tricked!” cried Rainbow Dash angrily. “I still remember how you both behaved at the drinking contest; that’s not something that a simple lie can shatter!”

“Ahm not that sure, Dash,” corrected Applejack. “Distrust hurts bad enough to shatter friendships. Ah don’t think love is that resilient either.”

“Hey, Drakkar,” said Pinkie, lowering her body to get to look at the stallion in the eyes. “Can we stay here and listen to the story? I love stories!”

The huge smile in her face made him hesitate for a moment. With a short sigh, he looked at all the mares and the young dragon in the room, slightly nodding. “I appreciate it. If you two want to stay too—”

“Stories about your hometown? Count me in!” exclaimed Rainbow Dash as she performed a back flip. “What do you say, AJ?”

“Ahm curious about this Gisli here too,” she admitted with a raised eyebrow. “Ah’ll stay for the story too.”

As Drakkar was about to speak, there were knocks at the door once more. Applejack used her tail to open it, letting a small group of mares in. Fluttershy and Rarity walked forward and stood aside, both trying to comfort Mjǫllna. To everypony’s surprise, Vínviðr moved in front of Drakkar, slightly bowing to him.

“Hofkarl Drakkar,” she greeted while resting a hoof on her chest.

“Vínviðr Gleipnadóttir,” replied Drakkar, bowing back to her. “It’s an honor to meet the descendants of such a heroine.”

“I am aware of what happened last night,” continued Vínviðr with a serious frown. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to hear the story too.”

“I want to know what happened too,” said Fluttershy as she hugged Mjǫllna with one of her wings.

“We all want to know,” seconded Rarity. “We might have our… differences, but if my friends are concerned about you, I’ll add my two bits if that helps you to go through the ordeal.”

Drakkar moved his head slowly to check that everypony in the room nodded at Rarity’s statement. As he politely obliged, Vínviðr returned to Mjǫllna’s side, tenderly holding her hoof. After letting out a long sigh, Drakkar’s horn began to glow, slowly growing in intensity.

“Are you going to use the spell I taught you?” asked Twilight with a casual smile.

“I have to,” replied Drakkar as he closed his eyes. “I wrote an edda about what happened, and I have never translated it because I never thought I… I needed to tell it somewhere else.”

“Why not just tell us what happened?” asked Spike with a shrug.

“Spike, that’s rude!” interjected Twilight with a frown.

“She deserves the best I can offer,” replied Drakkar, slowly raising his head as the brightness of his horn became much more intense. “Á Veiðǫrvar húsi,” he started as a stream of magic burst from his horn, creating a screen where the story came to life.

-o-

Inside a longhouse, a couple pegasi mares worked on a small, colt-size overcoat. The older one had a beautiful orange coat, with a singing rooster head covering her flank. Her short golden mane was covered in a napkin, only leaving a visible lock hanging on her left side. Her citrine eyes paid attention to the other young mare as she tried to knit the piece of clothing.

“You’re doing well, Hveiti,” said the older pegasus with a smile.

“Thank you, mother,” she replied with a proud grin. The young mare’s teal mane was tied in a ponytail, resting on her back as the tip barely covered the spring of wheat that was her cutie mark. Her mane contrasted perfectly with her orange coat. Though she appreciated her mother’s compliment, she didn’t move her turquoise eyes from the overcoat. “Do you think Drakkar will like it?”

“I’m sure of it, dear,” said the older pegasus.

As the two mares kept chatting, a stallion and a colt, both unicorns, moved inside the house. The two of them had their hooves dirty with soil.

“We’re done with the crops for now,” said the large, dark blue stallion as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, putting away some of the long brown locks of mane that had stuck to it.

“Can I go out and play now, father?” said the young Drakkar. He was a perfect miniature version of his current self, save for the lack of cutie mark and his mane and tail being shorter. The former was only shoulder length, and the latter was too short to even caress the floor with the tip yet.

“You told me you wanted to come hunting with me, Drakkar,” replied the father with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, right!” cried Drakkar with a joyful hop. “I’ll spot every single animal out there!”

“Veiðǫr, my love,” said the older mare, “are you sure that bringing Drakkar with you is a good idea?”

“Hani, he’s twelve already,” replied Veiðǫr with a smirk. “I think it’s time for him to start getting used to the family business.”

“I know, but why don’t you take him fishing instead?” insisted Hani.

“Because the pony I work for has enough fish for a few weeks, and his jerky supplies are running out,” explained Veiðǫr patiently, but sounding slightly annoyed, as if they’ve had the conversation several times before.

“Father, we’re just worried about you and Drakkar, that’s all,” added Hveiti. “We know elks don’t pose a threat, but you’re still walking into úlfsvetir territory.”

“That’s what patrols are there for, Hveiti; I trust them enough to know that they’ve taken care of them.” He then looked at Drakkar, patting him on the back with a smile. “Come on, get the bow and the quiver; I’m going to teach you to hunt.”

“Yes, father!”

Without another word, Drakkar trotted across the longhouse and grabbed the wooden bow and the leather quiver, the arrows making a distinctive sound as they clashed against each other. Veiðǫr took everything away from his son and moved towards the door.

“We’ll be here for dinner, Hani,” he said with a quick nod.

“Don’t worry, husband; everything will be ready by the time you’re back,” replied Hani. “Take care, Drakkar,” she added with a quick wave of her hoof.

“I will! Bye, mother! Bye, sister!”

“Aren’t you forgetting something, brother?” inquired Hveiti with a raised eyebrow.

Both mares stared at the young colt with raised eyebrow as he returned a confused look. It wasn’t until Hani tipped her cheek with her hoof that Drakkar realized that they wanted. As Veiðǫr chuckled, Drakkar trotted towards her mother and sister and pecked them on the cheeks.

“The thrill of the hunt makes the youngster forgetful,” said Veiðǫr, laughing as Drakkar trotted back to him. “Alright, kid; let’s move.”

As both ponies got out of the house, Drakkar’s ears perked up at the sound of his name.

“Drakkar!” called an Earth pony colt from far away as he galloped towards them, followed closely by a unicorn filly.

“Megin-gjarð! Kynngi!” replied Drakkar back with a waving hoof.

The Earth pony colt was imposing for his age. Despite from being as young as Drakkar, he stood taller than him and the rest of the foals, and he had a worryingly powerful build for such a young pony. Due to his oversize, some ponies called him “jǫtunhestr”, the giant pony, but after a couple beatings, the nickname was never pronounced loudly again when he’s around. His coat was the color of copper and showed a dark brown short mane that barely covered his ears, and his large, rubble-color eyes shone full of youth and energy.

Next to him stayed Kynngi, a filly of outstanding beauty. She was the only female of the happy trio, and a proud seer apprentice. Despite being a fast learner when it came to magic, her enthusiasm made it a bit hard to control her outbursts during her practices. Her amethyst eyes contrasted perfectly with her salmon coat and long, wavy crimson mane.

“Ready for the glíma, Drakkar?” asked Megin-gjarð with a wide grin. “Kynngi wants to hang around too.”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t cause trouble again,” replied Kynngi with a raised eyebrow. “Remember the last time you got too far and broke the neighbor’s fence and scared his cattle? You had to work for him for a few weeks.”

“Sorry, but I’m going hunting with my father,” said Drakkar as he scratched the back of his neck. “We’ll arrive at dinner time, so I guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow for that.”

“Be careful out there, Drakkar,” warned Kynngi with a concerned voice.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured as he looked at Veiðǫr with a wide, proud grin. “I know father will take care of me.”

“Let’s go, son,” said Veiðǫr, caressing Drakkar’s head and messing with his mane. “We have to get going.”

“Yes, father.” With a wink and a hit on his chest, Drakkar turned to his friends. “I’ll be back and we’ll play tomorrow. Take care until then!”

-o-

Both ponies scouted the northern forests, searching for prey and watching their step, for the fallen leaves crunched noisily under their hooves.

“Listen, son,” explained his father, “one of the keys to being a hunter is making sure you are silent as a snake. A lot of animals’ hearing is very keen, and even a broken twig will make them know you’re there.”

“Yes, father,” replied Drakkar. Though he had been mimicking his father’s constant looking at the floor and forward alternatively as they walked together, he now did it for a logical reason. “Anything else I should know?”

“A lot, but we’ll go little by little.”Veiðǫr sniffed the air around him and looked his surroundings, noticing a scratched tree close to them. “Ah, we’re close, my son. Look,” he said, pointing at the scratches.

“There’s something close, right?” asked Drakkar as he touched the damaged tree. “An animal has marked this tree.”

“Antlers,” seconded Veiðǫr with an approving nod. “Probably from an elk.”

“Should we go for the males only?” inquired Drakkar, to which his father replied with a surprised look.

“Very good, little one!” replied his father, caressing his forehead. “When spotting an elk herd, we usually hunt males down and let females alive to let them breed. That way, we assure ourselves a constant supply of meat.”

“I see.” Drakkar gave a nod and chuckled as his father kept close to him. The sound of shaking leaves made both ponies’ ears perk up and turn to the shaking bush. “Father,” he whispered as he slowly walked back, hiding behind the stallion.

“Don’t worry, Drakkar,” he replied lowly nocking an arrow on the bow and magically pulling the string. “I’m ready.”

As the stallion remained motionless, waiting for whatever was on the other side of the foliage, Drakkar slowly moved forward, staying as close to his father as possible. A loud bark came from behind the bush, catching them off-guard. To their surprise, from among the leaves walked out a small bear. Despite being a very young specimen, it was still larger than Drakkar. When it saw the two ponies, the animal fell on its haunches and stared at them.

“A bear cub?” inquired Veiðǫr with a raised eyebrow as he lowered the bow.

“It’s beautiful, father!” exclaimed Drakkar, trotting in front of the animal. “Hail, baby bear!” he greeted cheerfully. “Are you lost?”

“Stay here, Drakkar,” warned his father, checking their surroundings. “The mother must be around here somewhere.”

“Can I play with the cub while we wait?” When Drakkar spoke those words, the bear got closer to him and sniffed around his neck, making the colt giggle. “Hey, that tickles!” he said, softly pushing it away.

Veiðǫr looked around him a second time, slightly distracted by Drakkar’s laughter. However, the place looked deserted. Despite the marks they spotted on the trees before, the land seemed worryingly quiet. “Okay, but be very careful. It might be a cub, but it’s still big and strong and could hurt you. Hopefully, I won’t be away too long,” said the stallion before resuming with a more severe voice. “But don’t grow fond of the cub; we’re taking it with its mother as soon as I find her.”

With those words, Veiðǫr wandered among the bushes the cub had come from. Drakkar’s giggling made him chuckle softly, but shook his head, somehow knowing that his advice had gone nowhere. When he looked to his right, the sight of a bear lying on the ground made the stallion’s eyes widen in horror. Some lesser facial traits identified the animal as a female, being surely the mother of the cub. What terrified Veiðǫr, upon further inspection, were the frostbitten wounds that she had across her side. Chunks of ice were scattered around her, signs that she had been able to take one of the beasts down and made them retreat before succumbing to her wounds.

“Úlfsvetir,” he growled, tenderly resting his hoof on her forehead. “Rest in peace, proud warrior, for your sacrifice won’t be in vain.”

Without a moment to lose, Veiðǫr galloped back to where Drakkar and the cub were. The young colt had been playing with the small bear, probably pushing and fighting, and was sitting next to it, exhausted. The cub was lying down on one of its sides while staring at Drakkar, who turned to face his father when he arrived. However, his ears drooped when he noticed the grim look on Veiðǫr’s face.

“Father?” said Drakkar. “Have you found the cub’s mother?”

Veiðǫr closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “Úlfsvetir attacked her. We must return to report that the packs are moving sooner this season.”

“But what about her?” insisted Drakkar, hugging the cub as he kept eye contact with his father.

“We’re—” Veiðǫr stopped, blinking at his son’s words. “Her? How do you know it’s a female?”

To this, Drakkar blushed, looking away shamefully. “I… I was playing pushing with her and she fell on her side. I accidentally looked there and…”

With a loud laugh at the colt’s behavior, Veiðǫr shook his hoof. “It’s okay, Drakkar; that’ll make naming her easier.”

Drakkar’s ears perked up again, followed by a slowly widening grin and sparkling eyes. “Does that mean we can keep her?”

“Of course!” replied Veiðǫr with a smile. “Her mother fought hard to protect her, and we’re going to continue with her task. Besides, you know that bears are a good omen, and apparently she likes you already,” he added with a chuckle as the cub got up and pushed Drakkar with a paw. “Do you have a name in mind?”

Drakkar and the young cub stared at each other, tilting their heads in opposite directions. After a moment, the colt pointed at her and spoke. “Gisli.” Though his father nodded at the name, the cub stared in confusion. Raising an eyebrow, Drakkar hit his chest with a hoof. “Drakkar.” Following that, he pointed at her again, repeating her name. “Gisli.” This time, the bear replied with a loud bark and walking towards him, standing clumsily on her hind legs. Veiðǫr stood back, staring at how the cub stood almost as tall as him. After a moment, the cub fell slowly on all fours.

“I… think she likes it,” said Veiðǫr with a chuckle.

“Yes! Welcome to the family, Gisli!” cried Drakkar, jumping towards the bear and giving her a hug. Veiðǫr laughed at how his son’s front hooves were barely able to surround the cub’s neck.

“Come on, we have to leave before the úlfsvetir come back for the mother,” warned Veiðǫr as he walked back to the city, closely followed by a joyfully hopping Drakkar and Gisli.

-o-

The images created through the spell slowly faded away as Drakkar stopped talking and pressed a hoof against his forehead with a slightly painful grimace.

“Drakkar, are you okay?” asked Twilight, snapping out of the story’s charm. “You might need to take some rest. “

“You told me the spell was easy, and that even foals could use it,” grunted Drakkar.

“And it is, but even a small weight become a heavy burden on the long run,” she explained patiently. She then looked at the rest of the mares with a slightly concerned look. “Girls, Drakkar needs some rest before moving on.” As everypony nodded approvingly, Twilight guided Drakkar to the restroom to give him some medicine.

“Did you see him?!” said Pinkie Pie, pressing her cheeks with her hooves. “He was fluffy wuffy adorable!”

“And a pet bear, no less! That’s radical!” seconded Rainbow Dash. “No wonder he gets along with Harry! Right, Fluttershy?”

“Oh, yes,” admitted Fluttershy, showing a sad frown. “Though I’m sad about the cub’s mother. She tried to defend her from harm.”

“Ah don’t think that teaching a youngster to hunt so soon might be a good idea,” said Applejack with a shrug. “But then again, that’s a different country and it’s the family business.”

“It’s just like my mother used to tell me,” said Vínviðr with a nostalgic look on her face.

“It’s really a delightful tale, don’t you think, Mjǫllna?” asked Rarity, turning to look at the mare. However, instead of finding a joyful expression, Rarity only saw terror in her face. Her skin had grown pale and was covering her mouth with a hoof. “Darling, what’s wrong?” she asked with deep worry, grabbing her free hoof.

At Rarity’s touch, Mjǫllna clenched the unicorn’s hooves with hers. “This is the last gift of one of my dearest friends,” quoted Mjǫllna, remembering the words Drakkar told him when she asked about the conflict with Rarity.

“What are you talking about?” insisted Rarity, surprised at her behavior.

Mjǫllna took a deep breath, shaking her head slowly. “I have a horrible feeling about where this will go.”

-o-

Hearth Fire rested on her bed as her hooves pressed her forehead. As she looked at the wooden frame of the turned mirror, the mare sighed in relief. After the frustrating she had gone through due to the memories of her past, she was able to slowly soothe again. However, those visions had taken their toll on her. Solar Beam was crazy for both Mjǫllna and herself, and she had missed his warm embrace during the two decades they’d been away from each other. No matter what happened, Solar Beam had never been an irresponsible father. The money and toys he sent through the years proved that he was an enviable paternal figure despite his lack of confidence in the matter. Though Mjǫllna’s joy was obvious when she unwrapped the boxes to find new toys to play with, Hearth Fire’s happiness was twice as her daughter’s; both for seeing the filly happy and to know that Solar Beam still cared for all of them.

As her mind dwelled through the memories of her past, she remembered the letters that came with the money envelopes and that she kept them in the upper drawer of the left nightstand. Without a second thought, she opened it to find the bulky stack. There were removed parts in most of them, either cut out of erased to the point of being unreadable. Hearth Fire refused to read about Solar Beam portraying himself as a failure, but the lack of sender in the letters made it impossible for her to reply to him to say otherwise, or even to tell him about Mjǫllna. As she read them, her eyes slowly became watery and a slowly growing smile sprung.

Hearth Fire’s ears perked up at the sudden cry of a foal that came from inside the house. Snapping out of her nostalgic trance-like state, she carefully rearranged the letters and put them inside their drawer before getting out of her room and walking down the stairs. As her mind raced trying to understand what a foal was doing inside her house, she heard a familiar voice singing a lullaby, making her heart sink. Without a doubt, Hearth Fire flew down to the living room, freezing on the spot at impossible sight.

In front of her, Solar Beam was sitting on the couch, trying in vain to cheer a months old foal up. After a closer inspection, Hearth Fire recognized Mjǫllna’s coat and mane colors. The filly was crying her lungs out, pressing her forehead against the young stallion’s chest, but his melodious voice wasn’t doing anything to make her happy. The mare didn’t move a muscle at the scene as Solar Beam tried everything, from flying around the room with her to tickling her with his feather’s wings, but nothing was working.

Hearth Fire didn’t even give herself a moment to consider how it was possible for the stallion to look as young as the last time they saw each other, or the fact Mjǫllna was a foal; she simply galloped towards them. However, she came to a sudden halt when she took the first step, to which Solar Beam quickly turned to face her, the fury in his eyes freezing the blood in her veins.

“What have you done to our daughter?” asked Solar Beam coldly as he wrapped the filly with his wings. “When Mjǫllna was born, we swore we’d do everything to make our little filly happy. And even then you made her cry! What’s wrong with you?!”

Hearth Fire’s lips moved without making a sound, shaking her head in disbelief as her mind tried and failed to understand what was going on. “I-I-I—” she stuttered, only to get verbally overrun by the stallion.

“You what? What justifies doing this to our daughter? Where did that loving wife and mother go?” grunted Solar Beam.

Despite the attack, Hearth Fire didn’t cower at the words, replying with an indignant huff. “How dare you to say that about me? You left us! I had to take care of her with my mother since you left! She tried to keep you here, but you didn’t listen!”

“Do you really need me to remind you why I wouldn’t stay no matter what Vínviðr said? Remember the words you said to me?” To Hearth Fire’s horror, Solar Beam’s voice suddenly changed to match her teenage voice. “I don’t have time for your whining! Our Mjǫllna needs a real stallion for a father, not a crybaby!”

Hearth Fire remained motionless as the filly’s crying was the only sound in the room. When the mare opened her mouth in an attempt to speak, Solar Beam interrupter her again with a swift move of his wing.

“You were my wife, Eldstaðr,” he said with his normal voice. At the sound of her full name, Hearth Fire’s ears drooped and she took as step back. “You knew that getting into the Wonderbolt Academy was my life! Your words were the only thing that lifted my spirit when I felt down!” With every sentence, Solar Beam walked forward, forcing Hearth Fire back. “And you told me that after failing at what I considered something important! I needed to be able to succeed in the toughest of challenges if I wanted to be a good father for Mjǫllna!”

“Do you think I haven’t regretted those words in all these years?!” cried Hearth Fire back, shaking her head as she tried to keep the tears from falling. “I was horribly busy with an important order and had to put up with an insufferable customer! I know it’s not an excuse, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t feel good for saying that! When I tried to apologize, you had already left! I searched for you for hours, trying to make up for what I did!”

Solar Beam looked down to see Mjǫllna, the young filly still sobbing between his forelegs. “I can forgive you for what you did to me, but this?” he said, showing Hearth Fire the crying foal. “This makes me regret the time when I called you my beloved wife. I expected more from you, Eldstaðr.”

“Beamie, wait!” begged Hearth Fire, throwing herself to his hooves, grabbing them tightly. “You have to listen to me!”

Solar Beam looked down upon her with a frown. “I refuse to listen to you; nothing is worth it if I have to see Mjǫllna like this.”

With those words, the stallion took off, releasing himself from Hearth Fire’s grip and flying away. The mare quickly got up and tried to follow him as he got out of the house, but when she flew outside of the living room, she found herself in the empty streets. There was nopony out there, and not even the slightest trace of Solar Beam’s whereabouts. Completely powerless, Hearth Fire fell on her knees, drowning in her sorrow as she rested her forehead on the ground.

“Please, don’t leave me again,” begged Hearth Fire in a low voice as she hugged herself with her wings. She then looked to the sky, letting out a soul-tearing wail with all the strength of her lungs. “Beamie, come back!”

-o-

Hearth Fire’s own screams woke her up, jumping out of her bed in a pile of sweat. Her ragged breathing hurt her slightly sore throat and her reddened eyes were moist with tears. She lifted a wing to cover her face from the sunlight as she looked around her, mildly disoriented. After she recomposed herself, she looked at the turned mirror, charging to it and turning it to its normal position, grabbing the frame tightly as she screamed at her own reflection.

“Make it stop!” she roared, shaking the large mirror. “Keep Beamie out of this! He doesn’t know! He doesn’t hate me! He never would!” She furiously shook the mirror again with all her strength, almost lifting it as she kept screaming and throwing threats at it. “Show yourself, Gleipna! Show yourself and say that Beamie hates me! I dare you!” she roared as she slammed the wooden frame against the floor. Despite the loud noise it caused, the mirror suffered no damage, reflecting the enraged Hearth Fire that stood in front of it.

Though the dís didn’t appear in the mirror no matter how much Hearth Fire demanded it, the mare’s limbs shook under her weight and fell noisily on her hind quarters. Her forehead then hit the mirror as she closed her eyes shut. The seconds seemed to stretch into minutes and hours as Hearth Fire whimpered in silence. Her mind had fought against everything that had been thrown to her, but her stalwart stubbornness couldn’t take it anymore.

“Forgive me,” begged Hearth Fire without looking up. “I’m sorry, granny. I’ve failed all of you. My mother, my daughter, you…” Her voice trembled as she tried to speak the last name that came to mind. “B… Beamie. I’ve failed Beamie.” Though the tears didn’t let her see clearly, she turned to face the nightstand where the letters from her husband rested. “He has never been here for more than twenty years. And he still took time to make sure that Mjǫllna never lacked anything. If he were here to see what I’ve done…”

Hearth Fire’s mind blocked any possible end of that sentence. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she looked at the mirror, speaking with a pleading voice.

“Grandma, please,” she asked as her lower lip trembled. “Help me. Give me something… anything to fix the damage I’ve caused.”

-o-

After a short break, both Twilight and Drakkar returned from the restroom, the stallion showing a slightly less pained expression. Of all the mares sitting them, only Mjǫllna stared at him with deep concern and sorrow, for she was the only who knew what awaited to be told.

“I apologize for the sudden break, everypony,” said Drakkar as he pressed his hoof firmly against his head.

“We understand, Hófkarl,” replied Vínviðr with a light bow. “Whenever you're ready you might continue.”

Drakkar looked around him to see how the rest of the mares nodded in approval. His horn glowed dimly as he resumed telling his story before bursting once more into the magic screen to the stallion's past.

-o-

The young Drakkar took great care of Gisli as she grew up. During the first few weeks, the young bear was still in nursing age, and the colt fed her with a bottle he bought at the animal training grounds' hospital. He also begged for his mother and sister to knit a sheet for her not to get cold. However, despite the mare's willingness, they didn't have that much spare wool to make one. That didn't stop Drakkar from offering the bear the best he had; he gave his own sheet to her, sleeping with the animal from them on.

Once Gisli became old enough, Drakkar would take her to the river to fish. The young bear quickly got the hang of it, clawing salmons out with ease after only a few failed attempts. The young colt, however, missed every time, his short spear sinking in the sand under the water. In frustration, he threw the weapon away before sitting down and enjoying the sight of his friend catching her meal. He paid close attention to how Gisli waited for a specific moment to slap the water. After a few days, he noticed that the patterns, though random, had some predictable parts. Disregarding his father's spear, he began using his own hooves to take fishes out.

The townsponies regarded Drakkar highly; as the relationship between the stallion and Gisli improved, the ponies in charge of the shrines and training grounds offered to take care of the bear. Though he loved the attention his friend was getting, the bear growled at any pony that dared to take her from them. Most ponies regarded this as a great omen, and some of the trainers considered Drakkar a possible candidate for the famed bear riders.

As years went by, Drakkar and Gisli became inseparable. The animal waited at the barracks' door during his training sessions. The family business split in two; Veiðǫr would go hunting to the forest and Gisli and Drakkar would go fishing. The now grown stallion had mastered the bears' fish-catching style and had adapted to some of their habits, which helped a lot during their patrols. As a unicorn, he was taught the language of bears and the spell to transform his words to roars, growls and barks, though he also practiced the non-unicorn way.

The academy training was ferocious, and there were few days where Drakkar returned home without a bruise or far from exhausted. Despite being friends, Megin-gjarð never held back when it came to training, being the responsible of some of Drakkar's bruises. Sometimes, if Drakkar looked way more beaten than usual, Gisli would offer to take the stallion home.

Despite the training grounds being quite merciless, it also had its good moments. Both Drakkar and Megin-gjarð completed their training, getting praises from their parents and mentors. As for Kynngi, she was able to master Scandineighvian magic just soon enough to join her friends in their patrol group. Having been friends since they were foals, they were assigned to a small group together, knowing that they would work better as a team than others.

“Soldiers!” cried a sturdy dark green pegasus as he walked in front of a group of ponies. His long alabaster mane tied back in a pony tail was covered in snowflakes. As he spoke, his bronze eyes scanned the troops. “Winter has come, and you all know what that means! Úlfsvetir packs are going to start threatening our borders, and we're going to double the patrols as usual! I'll be calling the ponies that will take this week's groups. Take a step forward as I name you! Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson!”

The stallion obeyed, followed closely by Gisli. Despite being younger, he was just like his current self, only lacking the bear pelt. His attempt to show a neutral expression were betrayed by his slowly growing excited smile. As the captain, his yellow mane was overflowing with snow. He still lacked his cutie mark, but being blessed with a bear companion made everypony overlook that detail, though it wasn't a bit deal in their society. “Ready to serve, Captain Brim-sker!” he said as he hit his bare chest with a hoof.

The pegasus nodded in approval at the response, taking another look at the small wax board he had the names written down on. “Megin-gjarð Hǫggson!” he called.

Among the small group of ponies outstood the cyclopean earth pony, and most of them slowly followed him with their eyes as he took the step forward. Much to the copper-color stallion's dismay, he had lived up to his mockery name's expectations; he was a whole head taller than Drakkar, and he was one of the tallest ponies in their academy. An ox pelt covered Megin-gjarð's powerful shoulders, which doubled in girth even the bulkiest stallions'. A layer of fat made his muscles less obvious at plain sight, but the fact that such a behemoth was able to stand, walk and even gallop was evidence enough that the so-called jǫtunhestr had a peerless might.

The ox hide was slightly hidden behind a bushy, well groomed brown beard that matched his wavy, shoulder-length mane. Tied to his right foreleg rested a round iron shield that was made specifically for him. The chain shirt he wore had taken him years of saving to purchase it, for the amount of iron used for it was twice the normal one. His strong flanks showed a shield with a belt wrapping it, the buckle having a thunder as a relief.

“At your command, Captain,” announced Megin-gjarð with a deep voice, staring down at his superior with his rubble-colored eyes as he showed a confident smile.

Brim-sker showed no sign of discomfort at the gargantuan pony that dwarfed every single soldier in their army. On the contrary, he had kept an eye on Megin-gjarð and admired the stallion that had become a paragon of Scandineighvian warfare. ”Kynngi Tunglskindóttir!” he said, looking at the only mare among the squad.

Donned in a short robe decorated with Futhark runes across the neck and sleeves and wearing a couple cufflinks with falcon feathers, the salmon-coat mare stepped forward. As she did, her long crimson mane and tail, both tied up in loose ponytails, left trails on the snow. Even under her robes, her exuberant curves were noticeable, specially her wide hips; but nothing matched her aquamarine eyes, which stared coldly at the horizon. A ring with cat whiskers attached to it decorated her horn. “Seer ready to serve,” she said with a sweet voice, slightly imposing due to the tenacity of her words.

“You three will come with me for the usual patrol across the Northern border,” said Brim-sker with a nod, before looking at the other ponies. “The rest of you will go to the southern border of the city. Remember; don't go further than three miles away.”

“Yes, Captain!” replies the ponies at the same time before trotting down the street.

Brim-sker kept his imposing visage as the group moved away, only to slowly show a more informal smile to the three ponies in front of him. “Alright, crew, let's get moving.”

-o-

The four ponies and Gisli moved through the snowy fields beyond the city. A trail of hoofsteps were left behind, slowly getting covered by the few snowflakes that fall. Leading the group were Brim-sker and Megin-gjarð, followed closely by Drakkar, who was flanked by Gisli and Kynngi.

“Nothing for now,” announced Brim-sker with a growl.

They had been patrolling the Northern fields for a couple hours and they had yet to see a pack of úlfvetir around. Being aware of the creature's powers only made the situation more unsettling. Winter wolves could travel through snow as sharks do through water, making them impossible to track. However, the beasts were only able to make use of this ability in the mountains, where even Megin-gjarð could find himself buried in snow. After hunting the creatures for centuries, they'd also found that úlsvetir didn't heal naturally, requiring being buried in the snow to regenerate damaged body parts, and even then the process was slow.

“Something's wrong indeed,” seconded Megin-gjarð while looking around him. “We should've spotted a pack a while ago.”

Gisli suddenly stopped walking,making Drakkar stay in place too, followed by the rest of the group.

“What's going on, Gisli?” asked Drakkar.

The bear didn't reply at first, only sniffing the air around her. At this gesture, the ponies began searching around the area without a second thought. Soon, Gisli started barking to their left, specifically to the snowy ground. Drakkar's eyes widened in shock before screaming to the rest.

“They're here!” cried Drakkar as he jumped to Gisli's side.

The other ponies took defensive stances, with Megin-Gjarð covering Kynngi with his shield, which was large enough to conceal a grown mare. Brim-sker extended his wings and unsheathed his sword, holding the short hilt tightly in his mouth, ready to charge against anything that jumped on them. Behind Megin-gjarð's shield, Kynngi's horn began to shine with raw magic.

Several portions of white field began to shake and rise as menacing growls were heard from under it. As the slumbering úlfsvetir woke and stood on all fours, the snow slipped down from their bodies, revealing their horrible bodies. They were made entirely of chunks of sculpted ice, which gave them a coarse appearance, but with a little imagination, you could call them “wolves”.

“Everypony ready?” asked Brim-sker without looking away from the wolves.

“About a dozen,” growled Megin-gjarð with an amused grin. “These monsters are learning. Kynngi,” he continued as he looked under the shield, only to be greeted by an intense glow.

“Put the shield away!” ordered the mare, to which Megin-gjarð obeyed without hesitation. As a couple monsters turned to face her, Kynngi took a step forward, challenging the úlfsvetir. “Eldr múspel sól!” she cried as she lowered her head, pointing at them with the horn.

When the last word's echo faded, the aura changed to a fiery color, expelling a cone of fire that caught the two wolves off-guard. While one of them was able to react on time and the spell only hit its tail, the other one wasn't so lucky. The merciless flames direly affected the monster, the ice that formed him melting by the seconds. Its legs became too frail to support its own weight, and as soon as it tried to move away, one of them snapped, making it fall on its side.

Drakkar and Gisli stood back to back, watching for any monster coming at them. Brim-sker stayed by Kynngi's side, ready to protect the seer from the beasts. Megin-gjarð, however, charged against them with his shield raised, taking three of the creatures to the ground with a ferocious rush, a deafening sound of ice against metal overcoming the howls and barks.

Gisli mauled every úlfsvetir that tried to jump to her neck, though Drakkar was having a hard time behind her. In his attempts to protect the bear, he had sacrificed mobility and, despite being strong for a unicorn, he could barely keep one of the beasts at bay. Despite the thick fur, the monster's paws were still freezing, feeling the slowly increasing pain on his shoulders as he pushed the wolf's neck away to avoid getting bitten. The úlfsvetir's chill breath in his muzzle made him frown. Noticing that the beast was leaning on him, Drakkar took a long step aside, showing a wide, sardonic grin as the creature fell off balance and fell on its ide. Without a second doubt, the unicorn slammed the creature's ice head with both forehooves, shattering it into pieces. The monster's decapitated body shook and ran on the spot for a brief moment, trying to flee until it stopped moving.

After the first moments of the fight, the úlfsvetir had taken a specific strategy; of the ten remaining wolves, three were surrounding Megin-gjarð, yet keeping themselves at a safety distance from the mastodon-size stallion. Their attempts to corner him had failed so far, and the beasts were simply distracting him, hoping that the others would finish with the rest of the giant's pack to overwhelm him together.

Another three were trying to separate Brim-sker from Kynngi to take her down, but the Captain remained stalwart, slashing his sword in arcs that forced the wolves back. Already aware of the mare's capabilities, the úlfsvetir had paid more attention to her, and her spells barely hit them, if at all.

The remaining four took turns to try and attack Gisli, the ferocious bear flanked by Drakkar as both fought their way out of their cornering. Both sides exchanged roars and barks as they walked in circles, each one looking for open defenses to jump at. Two úlfsvetir rushed to Drakkar, forcing him to jump to his right to dodge the attack. The creatures now stood between the stallion and Gisli, growling menacingly as they followed him with their crystalized eyes. Whenever he tried to go back to the bear's side, one of the wolves tried to bite his neck. On her own, Gisli began walking back as the úlfsvetir assaulted tirelessly. In one of the attacks, one of the two creatures jumped towards Gisli, only to get mauled and thrown back. As soon as the first beast fell to the ground, the second one pounced over the bear, its right front paw landing on Gisli's eye and resting its hind legs on her belly. As the beast barked with ferocity, its claws shredded her right eye and tore her body, causing severe frostbite in the damaged skin. In extreme pain, Gisli let out loud yaps as she tried to wrestle the beast down.

“Gisli!” screamed Drakkar as he witnessed the scene in horror.

“Drakkar, watch out!” called Megin-gjarð from afar.

The warning came far too late, though. As Drakkar began to gallop towards Gisli's to assist her, he was tackled by one of the wolves. As the bear collapsed on the snow with pained growls, her attacker stood over her, howling victoriously. The rest of the pack joined it, a cacophony of incoming doom that made the ponies cringe. Drakkar shook his head in disbelief as words failed to come out, only to snap out of his shock when an ice-cold drop of saliva fell on his neck. He turned to meet the chilling breath of the úlfsvetir that had tackled him, its crystalline tongue dripping expectant. With renewed confidence, the wolves assaulted again.

Drakkar's sorrow was soon replaced by a frown as his breathing became faster and heavier. Mist came out of his mouth between gritted teeth, his horn glowing with great intensity. Before the beast had time to bite Drakkar's neck, the stallion bucked the creature away, cracking its lower half slightly and getting it off him. Drakkar got up with a jump, throwing a loud, bellowing roar that resounded across the field. He quickly turned to the úlfsvetir standing on Gisli, and he charged without a second thought. After tacking the beast down, the stallion began punching the beast's icy head relentlessly, breaking small shards of it with every hit and not stopping until it became a cold, formless stump.

The remaining úlfsvetir focused their attention on Drakkar for a moment, enough distraction for Megin-gjarð to bash one of them with his shield, crushing it against a tree they had tried to corner him against, shattering its body to pieces as the head and haunches trembled for a moment before coming to a halt.

“Kynngi, it's our chance to separate the pack!” cried Brim-sker.

With a nod, the mare began accumulating large amounts of magic. “Máttr jafnvægi hrind!” cried Kynngi as she lowered her head, aiming at the charging wolves with her ferociously glowing horn.

An unrelenting force blast flung the úlfsvetir away and scattered them across the battlefield. Once divided in smaller groups, the ponies charged to counterattack. Megin-gjarð, who shattered the creatures apart with a single punch of his heavy iron shield, switched his attention between the creatures and Drakkar.

After losing another two pack members, the úlfsvetir barked at each other, only to turn around and run away. However, the frenzied Drakkar jumped on one of them, stomping the body with both hooves as he bit one of its forelegs. To everypony's horror, Drakkar pulled with all his rage-enhanced strength, ripping the frozen limb apart and swinging it to beat the beast with it. The limp creature tried to get up and return with its fleeing pack, but Drakkar slammed it again with its ice limb, breaking the improvised weapon and the monster's body in the process. Spitting what remained of the icy appendage, Drakkar roared again and galloped towards the remaining wolves, only to get tackled by Megin-gjarð, who rested his weight on Drakkar to immobilize him.

“Drakkar, by Þórshamarr!” cried Megin-gjarð as his friend used all his strength to set himself free. ”Calm down! They're gone now!” The giant stallion had to move his head back, for Drakkar tried to bite him in his attempts to get him off.

What his oldest friend didn't achieved, a pained moan from Gisli did. The sound of his bear companion slowly brought him back to his senses. His breathing slowly returned to normal; still ragged due to the tremendous physical effort, but not violent anymore. As he began to look for Gisli, Megin-gjarð got up from him and pointed his friend where the bear was.

“Gisli!“ cried Drakkar as he rushed towards her. He gasped in horror at the sight of the bear. Her right eye had been clawed out with a vertical cut, bloodless due to frostbite. Gisli covered the wounds of her belly, but when the stallion pushed her weakened paw away, he saw the severe damage the úlfsvetir had caused. ”It's okay, Gisli, I'm here now!”

Brim-sker walked towards Drakkar, followed closely by Kynngi and Megin-gjarð. The Captain peeked at the animal's wounds from a distance, keeping Drakkar's friends from disturbing him.

“Is she going to be okay, Captain?” asked Kynngi with great concern, her lips trembling at the sight in front of her.

To her horror, Brim-sker shook his head slowly. “Frostbitten wounds are a huge deal even when they're just skindeep.” He discreetly pointed at Gisli's belly and eye wounds. “Those are very deep; she probably has suffered internal damage. I'm afraid that-”

“No!” roared Drakkar, shaking his head furiously. “Don't listen to him, Gisli! You're a strong bear; you will make it! You have to...” the stallion drowned a sob as he rested his forehead on the bear's neck. “You will make it!”

Gisli enveloped Drakkar with her right foreleg, letting out a short number of low grunts.

“Don't say that!” scolded Drakkar as he grabbed Gisli's cheeks and stared at her only working eye. “You're going to live! We'll go fishing together again! You don't have to come scouting with me; you can stay with mother at home and wait for me!”

“Did she just say—” started Megin-gjarð, but Kynngi's furious stare shut him up.

“I know what she said,” she whispered with a frown. “But now it's not the time to even think about that!”

“Drakkar,” called Brim-sker. “I'll return to the barracks to report the situation and call for some help to take Gisli back.” Drakkar didn't reply, only lying on the snow next to the dying bear. He rested his head on her side, feeling the weight of her foreleg on his back. Before leaving, Brim-sker looked at the other two soldiers. “You two will stay here to both help the others find you and take care of those two.”

With saddened nods, Drakkar's friends saluted at the Captain as he left. The heartbreaking wails from behind them made it hard for both ponies to look at their friend. A stallion who had never shed a tear despite suffering serious wounds during training sessions had now reddened eyes and moist cheeks. Drakkar gently hugged Gisli's neck, letting out a soul-tearing scream when the bear's breathing stopped.

Neither Megin-gjarð nor Kynngi had had the heart to say a word to Drakkar; they simply lay next to him, hugging the whimpering stallion. When the support group arrived, they lowered their heads at the scene, giving Drakkar their sympathies. After putting Gisli's lifeless body on a cartwheel, Drakkar finally got up, only to walk next to it on their way home.

-o-

Drakkar remained at home since the incident, mourning Gisli's passing when duty didn't call. Knowing how much his son loved going fishing with the bear, Veiðǫr offered him to switch jobs to ease his burden. For a long time, Drakkar would focus on hunting while his father would fish in the river. The patrols were much more melancholic too since Drakkar didn't have Gisli around. Megin-gjarð's usual jokes didn't seem to affect him, and no amount of Kynngi's kind words were able to cheer him. Even after the patrolling was done, Drakkar would gently refuse to share a drink with his friends, only to return home until he was called again.

The whole neighborhood where Drakkar lived showed their sympathies. A lot of ponies had seen the young Drakkar and Gisli grow for years, and the friendship that bound them together had been borrowed as an example to follow in a few stories across Scandineighvia, but never got popular enough to get known in different cities of Fimbulvetr; no having witnessed the true story made it hard to believe.

A lot of ponies, lead by Brim-sker, begged to the Jarl for a warrior's funeral for Gisli, as she had died a warrior's death. Having heard about the events at the Northern fields from several sources that told the same story, the Jarl approved the event. In the town square, a pyre had been set, and Gisli's corpse rested on it, covered with a linen sheet. Everypony was there, including the Jarl Hríðvetr himself, both to bid the bear the last farewell and to give Drakkar moral support. The stallion was magically holding a lit off torch, flanked by Megin-gjarð on his left and by his father Veiðǫr on his right. As both ponies comforted him by resting a hoof on his shoulders, Kynngi stepped forward with a dimly shining horn. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head forward, tapping the torch with her horn.

“Eldr múspel sól,” she said lowly.

The small amount of raw magic on her horn quickly turned into a small ember that lit the torch. Both Megin-gjarð and Veiðǫr stepped back as Drakkar moved forward, standing a couple feet away from the pyre. The torch's heat warmed the left side of the stallion's face while he remained motionless, staring at Gisli. As he rested both forehooves on the sturdy wooden structure, Drakkar lowered his head.

“You were not the oldest friend I had, Gisli,” he said in a low voice, caressing the sheet that covered the bear's body, “but were the one with who I've spent the most time. I remember when we found you in the forest as a baby, though you were already bigger than me,” he added with a weak chuckle. Drakkar shook his head slowly, biting his lower lip in a failed attempt to contain his watery eyes from breaking into tears. “You taught me to fish and were my training partner. I also remember when you carried me on your back and we walked across the yard.” Drakkar's lips trembled as he wiped the falling tears off his eyes, drowning a sob. “I don't know if bears can go to Valhǫll, but you've surely earned your place there. If you're there, wait for me, and we shall charge against our enemies together once more. May you fare well, my good friend,” he finished.

He took a deep breath before resting the flaming torch on the pyre, her head shaking slightly as part of him wanted to look away. However, he knew that Gisli wanted him to be strong, and gathered all the self-control he could gather to stare at the scene. As Drakkar took a step back at the slowly growing flames, Veiðǫr and Megin-gjarð returned to his side.

“You've done great, son,” said Veiðǫr, resting a hoof on Drakkar's shoulder. “I'm sure Gisli's proud of you.”

“Thank you, father,” he replied as he grabbed his father's hoof.

“And now it's time to toast to our ursine shield sister!” announced Megin-gjarð before lifting Drakkar with one leg.

“Not yet, soldier,” interjected a voice that made everypony look at who spoke.

The crowd's attention focused on Jarl Hríðvetr, the elderly ruler of Scandineighvia. Despite being in his mid sixties, the dark gray earth pony showed off a decently sculpted build from dozens of fought battles in his youth. A short, well groomed ivory beard concealed his wrinkled muzzle, and the top part of his head was bald, compensated by the shoulder-length white mane he had. Ochre eyes stared at Drakkar, who reacted by reaching a hoof on his chest.

“Captain Brim-sker,” called the Jarl without looking away from Drakkar. “This is the famed stallion whose ferocity saved the lives of the patrol group, if I'm correctly informed.”

“Yes, my Jarl,” replied Brim-sker with a fierce nod. “Every member of the group fought with bravery despite being outnumbered.”

“The other two will also receive their rewards too, Captain,” said Hríðvetr with a shake of his hoof. He then spoke directly to Drakkar. “My sources have informed of what happened up there, and convinced me to allow your friend this honor,” he added as he magnanimously pointed at the burning pyre.

“I am aware, my Jarl, and there are no words, even for a skáld such as myself, to express my gratitude,” replied Drakkar, pressing his lips against each other.

“However, Gisli had a last will,” continued the Jarl. Drakkar's eyes widened at those words, vigorously shaking his head. Hríðvetr raised a hoof in front of him. “Child, I feel your pain, but I refuse to reject Gisli's last wish. And I'm sure you don't want to disappoint her either.” The Jarl didn't sound threatening; a condescending smile was drawn on his lips. “You can close your eyes if you think it'll make it easier.”

Drakkar slowly nodded before taking a deep breath, and then closed his eyes. When he did so, Brim-sker gestured with his hoof for two ponies to get closer. They were carrying Gisli's skinned, cured pelt. Though they had worked their best to make sure they didn't damage it, the wound she suffered that cost her the right eye couldn't be fixed. Megin-gjarð stretched his hoof and nodded slightly, to which Brim-sker replied by giving him the pelt. Holding the pelt by its forelegs, the earth pony slowly rested it on Drakkar's back. Gisli's upper jaw remained on his head like a hood, and Megin-gjarð carefully wrapped his friend's neck with the pelt's forelegs.

Drakkar suddenly gasped, his eyes wide open in shock as he felt goosebumps all over his body. The first pony who noticed such reaction was Jarl Hríðvetr, who stared back at him with a wide, paternal smile. He rested a hoof on Drakkar's chest before speaking again.

“The bear is our totemic spirit, young warrior,” said the Jarl, “and one of them has chosen to protect you. Such is the strength of what binds you. I know the burden of losing somepony important, but you must look forward to the future and make sure you'll never fail them.”

With tears falling down his cheeks, Drakkar nodded rapidly. “I will never fail her, my Jarl.”

“Good, because that's not the only thing I wanted to say.” Hríðvetr raised a hoof and gestured for Captain Brim-sker to come closer. “Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson! Megin-gjarð Hǫggsson!” At the sound of their names, both stallions stood straight up. “For your tenacity in the battlefield, and by my authority as the Jarl of Scandineighvia, I grant both of you the title of hoofcarl,” he announced with a satisfied smile. The Jarl then looked up at Megin-garð with a raised eyebrow. “We usually grant bear pelts to those who reach your rank, but I admit that the ox suits you, warrior.” Hríðvetr slowly moved away from the two stallions, leaving them staring at each other with glowing grins. “As for you, Kynngi Tunglskindóttir,” he said, making the mare to salute respectfully, “you've proven yourself to be a competent seer, and I want you to assist your companions on their patrolling as soon as you finish your training.”

“Yes, my Jarl!” replied Kynngi with a proud nod, looking at her friends through the corner of her eye, the three ponies' mouths trembling as they tried to contain a broad grin.

“And now that these formalities have been solved,” said the Jarl as he stretched a hoof to grab a wooden mug of mead, only to rise it while smiling, “we shall toast to these brave warriors and their fallen companion!”

Everypony toasted loudly, the sounds of clashing mugs and the lack of synchronization as they spoke made the crowd's words unintelligible, but the three ponies looked at each other, grins slowly growing. They grabbed mugs of their own, and toasted with a laugh, dripping a little mead to the ground as they did. Letting his friends drink, Drakkar turned to face the burning pyre, raising his mug at it.

“To you, Gisli,” said Drakkar as his horn glowed.

The stallion looked up to the sky, the aura that surrounded his horn enveloping his throat. With a barely noticed roar due to the noise in the place, Drakkar bid Gisli a last farewell. Distracted as he enjoyed the celebration, he didn't notice that both Megin-gjarð and Kynngi were staring at him.

“What?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, following his friend's eyes that were looking at his side. To his astound, his flank sparkled with dancing lights as a picture spawned on it. He gasped in awe at the roaring bear head that appeared on him. It was sideways, looking towards Drakkar's head, but barely showing specific details like fangs or whiskers.

“Haha, took you long enough to get yours!” cried Megin-Gjarð with a loug laugh, hugging Drakakr with his free foreleg.

“Now the three of us have cutie marks!” continued Kynngi. She whipped her tail to raise the lower part of her, showing the sparkling vial with a blue bubbling solution that decorated it.

“And the most important thing,” added Drakkar as he kept staring at his cutie mark with a relaxed smile. “Gisli's going to be with us to celebrate our victories to come.”

-o-

The screen melted away as the glow surrounding Drakkar's horn faded. He covered his eyes with a hoof, sobbing as he tried to hold the tears back. When he moved the hoof away, he stared at his audience and saw that all of them were crying.

Rainbow Dash seemed to be making great efforts to avoid shedding tears to keep her appearance, but her slightly moist cheeks, as well as her drooped ears and wings made her sorrow obvious. With her Stetson hat pressed tightly against her chest, Applejack lowered her head as the story was over, wiping her eyes as she did. In a corner, Rarity and Pinkie were doing their best to soothe a shattered Fluttershy that had her face buried on her unicorn friend's chest. As her pink friend tried to cheer her up saying that, in the end, the story had a happy ending for all, Rarity could only look at Drakkar through the corner of her watery eyes. Next to him, Twilight and Spike stared at where the screen was, sorrowfully shaking their heads.

“So... that pelt you're wearing,” pointed Rainbow Dash with a trembling voice.

Drakkar lowered his head before putting his mane away to show the hidden pelt's head. As the story had mentioned, the bear's right eye had been clawed out, and the scar, though treated, was obvious from a distance.

“I... I would never have suspected that,” tried to say Rarity without letting Fluttershy go. “I'm terribly sorry, Drakkar.”

“I'm glad we solved this issues of ours before I leave,” admitted Drakkar sadly as he hid the pelt's head under his mane again.

“But you can't leave yet!” exclaimed Twilight. “What about the Princesses? The diplomatic treatise!”

”I've always looked up for my land and lord,” he said with a shake of his head. “But I can't this time. I've fulfilled my duty,” he added as he magically pulled a few papers from under the pelt. “The maps have been updated. I require nothing else.”

“But what about Shining Armor?” insisted Twilight, desperation rasping her voice. “You can't disappoint him! He enjoyed your company and has spoken wonders about you and Fimbulvetr in the Crystal Empire! Why are you—”

“Twilight,” interrupted Vínviðr with a frown. “Though I appreciate your attempt to keep him here, I don't think that's the way to do so.”

“But the Princesses...”

“They're benevolent, youngster,” she insisted. “They will understand.”

Both Mjǫllna and Drakkar stood in front of each other, but neither of them looked at the other. The mare's tail pointed downwards, and her drooped ears were slightly covered by her mane. Drakkar took a deep breath as he looked at the closed exit. As he took the first step towards it, the library's door slammed open with a thunderous sound that echoed throughout the whole room and caused everypony to jump back in shock. In front of them all stood Hearth Fire, breathing heavily as she kept her wings extended.

“Bíð!” she demanded, keeping her maximum wingspan as she spoke.

Vínviðr and Mjǫllna stared at the scene with dropped jaws, the surprise having surpassed the sorrow. Drakkar took a step forward, getting closer to the pegasus.

“Hverr Þú ert?” asked Drakkar with a frown.

“Ek heiti Eldstaðr Vínviðsdóttir,” she announced with a loud, proud voice. The stallion raised an eyebrow, slowly turning to face a befuddled Mjǫllna At the same time, Vínviðr's eyes remained widened at the sound her daughter’s full name. “Hófkarl,” continued Eldstaðr, “you must listen to me! You can't leave like this!” Every mare in the room threw a surprised gaze at her, seeing how her wings slowly folded and rested gently on her sides.

Drakkar took another step forward, but the pegasus remained on her spot. “I know the whole story, Eldstaðr,” he spoke with a growl. “I don't know what you're trying to do here, but I refuse to believe that-”

“I didn’t see the consequences of my wrongdoings on my own, Hófkarl,” interrupted Eldstaðr with a shake of her hoof. “You must thank a servant of the Æsir for that.” At the sound of the word, Drakkar's ears perked up, and gently sat on the floor while keeping the mare in front of him. Noticing that her words had caught the stallion's attention, the mare continued to speak. “In my ignorance and despise towards my heritage, I attempted to poison your love and put you away from each other. I feared for my daughter. I feared that you'd break her heart when you had to return to your homeland. But then,” she continued as her voice trembled and she lowered her head. “But then, Freyja sent somepony to show me that I was wrong.”

“Mjǫllna believed that I had a mare in Scandineighvia,” replied Drakkar solemn shake of his head. “Whether it was your doing or her own, she wouldn't trust my loyalty.”

“You gave her reasons to do so,” corrected Eldstaðr as she pointed at him.

At the accusation, the stallion growled at first, but at the raised hoof and serious yet non-threatening visage the mare showed, he took a deep breath and asked. “Explain yourself.”

“Lies and conspiracies take effect if there are doubts,” said Eldstaðr, gesturing for Mjǫllna to come closer. “You refused to talk about Gisli, which was suspicious gesture in the eyes of a morally weakened mare. You say that she didn't trust you, Hófkarl, and you are half right. However,” she continued, gesturing for Drakkar to lend her his hoof, “you must not fear telling the mare you love about your past.”

“Much less when there's nothing to be ashamed of,” added Vínviðr, who remained on her spot. “Gisli was a great friend, and you hold her memory dear.”

“Your life should hold no secrets for the mare you love,” continued Eldstaðr, now holding Drakkar's and Mjǫllna's hooves. “I can see that, despite your pain, you don't want to leave.” The stallion turned to face his lover, unable to hold back a growing smile as he stared into those mesmerizing light brown eyes. At that sight, Mjǫllna recovered her usual joy, grabbing Drakkar's hoof before he could react.

“Drakkar,” started Mjǫllna as he got close to the stallion, “I'm really sorry about what happened. I should've known that you wouldn't—”

“Your grandmother's right,” interrupted Drakkar. As they spoke, the other ponies and Spike kept their eyes on the couple. They remained silent, ears perked up to catch every word that both spoke. “I understand that I might have given you reasons to be jealous. Gisli was very important in my life, but I don't like talking about it because...” Drakkar tried to look away, but Mjǫllna's hoof pushed his cheek so they kept eye contact. With a half smile, he finished the sentence. ”Because it hurts to remember that I lost her. It's true that I still have her,“ he continued as he caressed the hanging paw on his chest, “but we don't play or fish together as we used to do.”

Eldstaðr ceremoniously put their hooves together, facing the couple as she spoke. “If you are to be together, if shall not be my hoof the one that breaks your love apart. Hófkarl,” she continued as she looked at the stallion, “I don't expect you to forgive me, but in the name of Freyja and Frigg, I beg to you to show forgiveness to my daughter.”

Drakkar let out a long sigh before chuckling softly as Mjǫllna's eyes glowed with hope and her smile slowly turned into a grin. ”I don't think I'd be able to stay angry at her.”

To those words, Twilight and her friends beamed, still paying close attention to every action both ponies took. Eldstaðr let the couple's hooves go, noticing that they still held on to each other, much to her satisfaction. At the sight of the mares' support, Eldstaðr took off, flying a few feet away from them. “And now, a kiss to make up and settle this down.”

Mjǫllna and Drakkar stared in each other's eyes, both showing slowly growing smiles. The rest of the ponies on the room walked closer, unable to hold their enthusiasm at the incoming happy ending. However, the couple's expression changed to a slightly brazen one.

“Thinking of something special for a makeup?” inquired Mjǫllna as she rested her free hoof on Drakkar's chest.

“In front of so many ponies?” asked Drakkar with a teasing gaze.

“They can look away,” she replied with a chuckle before resting her weight on the hoof that lay on him.

The mares surrounding them looked at each other with broad smiles on their faces as they exchanged approving and excited nods. Catching everypony by surprise, Mjǫllna included, Drakkar grabbed his beloved from the waist, lifting her without effort, standing on his hind legs as he did. While Mjǫllna laughed at the unexpected gesture, Drakkar pulled her towards him, tightly hugging her so she wouldn't fall. Her head stood a few inches higher than his own. With a grin that showed her pristine teeth, Mjǫllna enveloped Drakkar's neck, concealing her forehooves under his long mane. As she lowered her head to reach his lips and join in a kiss, her tail fastened around his back.

“Oh, my goodness,” whispered Fluttershy as she looked away.

“Darlings, please, save something for the honeymoon,” said Rarity while fanning herself with a hoof. Though she turning her face away, she kept peeking at the scene through the corner of her eye.

“Glad you could solve this problem, sugahcube,” admitted Applejack as she tipped down her Stetson to give the couple some privacy.

“Way to go, Drakkar!” cried Rainbow before performing a back flip in the air and raising her forehooves victoriously.

“Yay!” exclaimed Pinkie with a jump that almost caused her to hit the ceiling. “This calls for a party! I've been working on a make up party for weeks, but never had a chance to prepare it!”

“I think those two would prefer some time on their own, Pinkie,” interjected Twilight, blushing as she spoke. “But as Applejack said, I'm happy to see that you were able to end this misunderstanding.”

-o-

Eldstaðr waited patiently with a humble smile as Drakkar and her daughter kept joined in the kiss that was the paragon of passion. From the outside, it seemed as if nothing had happened, as if nothing existed that had damaged their trust on each other. However, Eldstaðr knew that it represented much more; it reminded her to the old days when she and Solar Beam started dating. As Mjǫllna separated her lips from Drakkar's to catch her breath, only to dive her tongue inside his mouth once more, Eldstaðr looked away with a chuckle; like mother, like daughter.

After a long while, Drakkar slowly lowered Mjǫllna to the floor again as their lips moved away from each other. Both lovers look on each other's eyes, and was the mare who broke the silence.

“I hope we don't have to get into arguments to get more of those,” joked Mjǫllna with a wink and a wiggle of her tail.

“As long as they all end like this, I wouldn't mind to get into a few more,” replied Drakkar with a raised eyebrow.

“You know what we could do right now?” she said, turning to Vínviðr. “Granny, remember when I told you that Drakkar knew the legend of Gleipna?” When Vínviðr nodded at her statement, Mjǫllna returned her attention to Drakkar. “Can you tell the story now? I'm sure mother would love to hear it too.”

“If you're not too tired, Hófkarl,” said Eldstaðr with a short bow, “I'd gladly listen to it.”

“I really hope it's a happy story,” added Pinkie Pie. “We're in a happy moment now, and I don't want anything to ruin it!”

“Happy?” repeated Drakkar, a grin sprouting on his muzzle. “This is more than a happy story, Pinkie; this is a legend that has been sung in my hometown for more than half a century.” His horn glowed slightly, ready to summon the magic screen once more. “A story that inspired many, a tale of a mare who earned the right to become the adoptive daughter of not any valkyrie, but the leader of them all. This is the tale of the heroine and shieldmare Gleipna Brynhildóttir!”

“For refusing to use magic of any kind,” said Twilight as he stared at his glowing horn, “you seem to have some decent reserves. You might be able to become a battle crier as you called them!”

“That would come really handy if you end up having a unicorn filly,” snorted Vínviðr. “I'm sure you'd love to have her become a respectful seer.”

Though Drakkar had ignored Twilight's comment, Vínviðr's caught him completely off-guard. The magic that had been accumulating around his horn faded away as he turned to face the mare.

“Oh, don't be so surprised, Hófkarl,” continued Eldstaðr with a raised eyebrow. “That was far from a 'let's forget everything happened and be a cute couple again' kind of kiss.”

“Mother, we'll cross that bridge when we get there,” said Mjǫllna with a giggle. “For now, it's story time!”

Twilight and her friends giggled at the sudden blush Drakkar showed before clearing his throat and closing his eyes. At the stallion's reaction, Mjǫllna chuckled softly, but gently stepped back to let him some space; she and Vínviðr had been the only ones that looked at him while he told the story, and noticed he gestured and moved a lot as he spoke. The three Scandineighvian mares stood next to one another; Mjǫllna in the middle, her mother on her left and Vínviðr on her right.

The mood surrounding the room was totally different during the new story; Drakkar chanted proudly about Gleipna's feats, inspiring the mares around him. Mjǫllna and her family stared in awe as they listened, with Vínviðr shedding tears as she heard about and saw her late mother as a ferocious pegasus shieldmare that rammed through enemy lines to protect her shield-sisters. Mjǫllna hugged her grandmother and rested her head on her shoulder. Though Eldstaðr enjoyed the story too, there was a moment where a chill traveled across her spine and her eyes widened in horror. Close to the end of the story, Gleipna swore an oath that would become engraved in Eldstaðr's mind forever.

“At this time I vow, and let the Jarlar of Fimbulvetr know that I shall charge without fear against those who threaten my folks! Æsir and Vanir, overlords of Ásgarðr, witness my oath! Those who dare harm my kin, either of blood or shield, shall suffer my wrath till death and beyond!”

Author's Notes:

Translations:

“Bíð!” = Wait!
“Hverr Þú ert?”: "Who are you?"
“Ek heiti Eldstaðr Vínviðsdóttir,” = “I am Eldstaðr Vínviðsdóttir,” (literally means I am called)

Rettinn Verdinn

Réttinn verðinn (The right price)

As the weeks passed, the newness of Drakkar’s presence had faded away and he came to be accepted as one of Ponyville’s eccentric own. Aside from his daily interactions with the city’s inhabitants, the oncoming Grand Galloping Gala was what was on everypony’s lips. With each day it grew nearer, the everyday conversations were more commonly replaced by ones involving the Gala. Those lucky few who had been invited, and had been boasting about it, had become the talk of town.

At Carousel Boutique Rarity and Mjǫllna were working together on the final touches of Drakkar's suit. They had finished the blacksmith's dress, parading inside the shop to see how it fit. After the short exhibition, both hung the dress inside one of the dressing rooms so Drakkar couldn't see it.

“It's perfect, Rarity!” said Mjǫllna while applauding happily. “It's just like the one he had as a colt!”

“Why, of course it is, darling!” replied Rarity with a proud smile. Her needle flew and pierced the silk, leaving the yellow trace of the braided runes she was working on. “He told me about the suit when we met for the first time, and seeing it during his storytelling made it easier for me to remember the design.”

“Is it true that my grandmother helped you with this?” inquired Mjǫllna without losing her smile.

“She did, and I must thank her not only for telling me how it had to be done,” said Rarity as she slowly turned to look at about a dozen finished dresses. All of them were decorated with complex brooches of different shapes and colors, specifically crafted to complement their respective dresses. Mjǫllna’s crafts had turned the already beautiful dresses into undeniable works of art. “But I must also thank her for helping us solve our differences once and for all.”

“I knew Vínviðr was up to something, but I never thought she convinced you to do this!” said Mjǫllna with a broad grin as she leaned back on the chair.

Rarity rested a hoof on her chest and faced Mjǫllna with a grateful smile. “I must say that I'm glad that everything is fine between us again.”

Mjǫllna nodded, crossing her hooves in front of her. “I couldn't agree with you more on that. Business aside,” she added, “I don't like having problems with ponies here, much less now that nothing stands between Drakkar and I.”

“How are things between you two, by the way?” asked Rarity, raising an eyebrow and showing a glint in her eye. “Something interesting you want to share?”

Mjǫllna chuckled. “You really want to know, huh?” said Mjǫllna with a brazen grin.

Rarity lowered her head, showing an innocent smile. “Well, not having a special somepony myself, I like hearing about love stories from other ponies.”

“No need to make up excuses, Rarity,” replied Mjǫllna with a chuckle and a shake of her hoof. “To be honest, though, there's not too much to tell. We've been talking a lot about ourselves. We learned a lot about each other, and we have much more solid foundations in our relationship.” Mjǫllna paid attention to Rarity's stitching as she spoke, her attention focused on the rune patterns the unicorn was braiding.

“You don't want to go through another ordeal like the one about Gisli, I presume,” replied Rarity with a nod as she paid attention to the piece of paper on the tables with the runes she had to braid in the suit.

“Yeah, that's right. Though I learned that Kynngi had a crush on him,” she admitted with a grim, jealous expression.

With a loud gasp, Rarity quickly turned to face Mjǫllna with her eyes wide open. “Kynngi?” she repeated in shock. “His friend in the story?”

Mjǫllna nodded, a sorrowful grimace forming on her face before speaking. “That one. They didn't start anything, but he thought he had to tell me. After Gisli's death,” she explained, “Kynngi tried really hard to make Drakkar forget about his friend's passing. She had good intentions, but Drakkar wasn't able to move on until much later, and got quite annoyed at Kynngi's behavior.” Mjǫllna leaned forward, resting her forelegs on the table to support her weight as she let out a sorrowful sigh. “If not for Megin-gjarð, they wouldn't be friends anymore. Megin-gjarð didn't talk about Gisli when Drakkar was around; he simply spent time with him, either having a drink or training. Sometimes both.”

“Keeping Drakkar's mind busy so he didn't think about Gisli,” replied Rarity with an approving nod. “Megin-gjarð was that huge pony, right?” She moved away from the sewing, letting out an uncomfortable huff as she turned to Mjǫllna with saddened eyes. “I'm sorry, Darling, but I didn't get most of the names I heard there.”

“It's okay,” said Mjǫllna with a shake of her hoof. “Aside from Kynngi's unrequited affection, there was nothing. Duty kept him busy, be it fishing, hunting or serving in the military.”

“And I don't remember you dating anypony until you met Drakkar,” said Rarity, staying silent for a while before pointing at Mjǫllna. “I do remember you and your friend Berry Punch getting into fights with colts every now and then,” she added with a smirk.

Mjǫllna leaned her head back with a slightly disgusted grimace. “Yeah, I guess we both earned ourselves a reputation. I don't regret it, though. Can you believe how surly some of those stallions got when they were rejected? If I have to put a few ponies on their ends, I won't hold back my hooves,” she stated proudly, puffing her chest as she did. “And that goes for Berry too.”

“How's she doing, by the way?” asked Rarity as she returned to sewing the patterns, only a few runes remaining.

“Oh, the bar's a bit more family friendly now,” she admitted with a smile. “Since she gave birth to Pinchy, she's made sure that ponies control themselves. She’s also become much less patient with troublemakers, kicking them out of the place as soon as they start disturbing the other patrons. Let me tell you, that mare sure knows how to throw a jab!” Mjǫllna emphasized the last statement by throwing a punch that made Rarity move back instinctively.

“Well, I'm against violence of any sort most of the time,” said Rarity with a forced grin, “but if that means that I might be able to enjoy a drink there—”

“Oh, of course!” exclaimed Mjǫllna, a burst of laughter that echoed throughout Carousel Boutique. “She's one of the best friends I can think of, and takes into consideration anything you ask for in her bar. Sure, she won't start bringing a specific drink until a lot of different patrons ask for it. I took Drakkar with me to her place, and I was glad that both of them got along quite well.” Mjǫllna shook her head while broadly grinning at the memory. “I wish I could’ve told her about Drakkar before, but she’s been too focused on the bar’s finances and income, and I didn’t want to disturb her for anything. When we told her we were dating, she stared at him in the eyes and threatened to wipe the floor with his mane if he even thought about hurting me.”

“I can only imagine how that ended,” replied Rarity as she pulled the needle for the last stitch, putting it aside and focusing her attention on Mjǫllna's conversation.

“Drakkar laughed,” continued Mjǫllna, “and told her not to worry. The bar was closed, but we remained inside drinking and talking.”

“Now that you mention the drinking thing,” said Rarity. Despite only being two ponies in the room, she looked around her before leaning forward, whispering to Mjǫllna. “I've heard rumors about Berry Punch, but you know her better than I do, so you might confirm them or not.”

“Let me guess,” replied Mjǫllna with a raised eyebrow as she crossed her forehooves in front of her. “They say she's a drunkard, right?” As Rarity nodded weakly, the blacksmith shook her head with a frown. “On the contrary, actually; that mare has a bomb-proof liver! She drinks, yes, and she usually drinks some of the drinks patrons don't finish.” At the unicorn's sudden disgusted expression, Mjǫllna couldn't hold back a chuckle, raising both hooves to calm Rarity down. “It’s a bad habit of hers and I understand that it might give her this bad reputation you talk about. Some young stallions and mares, usually because of dares or to try to impress a potential match, ask for some strong drink that they put away after the first sip. She says that it's a pity to let a good drink to waste, and she's not going to offer to anypony else, so she usually chugs them. If you can overlook that small eccentricity of hers, she’s a great pony that takes great care of her bar.”

“Do you think I could order a Martini there if I ever go?” asked Rarity with great curiosity, resting her weight on the table and leaning forward. “I only have the opportunity to drink them when I'm in Canterlot. I'm not that much of a drinking pony myself,” she added quickly with a shake of her hoof, to which Mjǫllna reacted by holding back a short chuckle. “But, truth be told, I wish I could have one of those delicious cocktails without having to travel that far.”

“Well, she's been bringing some exotic drinks, but they mostly ask for the classic ale or wine,” replied Mjǫllna with a shrug. “You should definitely ask her, though.”

“Well, in any case, Drakkar's suit is ready,” announced Rarity, smiling proudly at her creation. “Do you like it?”

Mjǫllna grinned at the sight of the dark brown overtunic that the unicorn was magically levitating in front of her. Rarity had braided Fuþark runes in its cuffs, neckline and hem with bright yellow strings. Both mares had worked on what they'd write; while Mjǫllna had combined them to make words, Rarity had thrown away most of them due to lack of aesthetics. In the end, the cuffs had ‘Drakkar’ written twice in each one. As for the neckline, ‘Máttr ok drengskapr’, meaning strength and honor, were chosen among a narrow selection that Rarity had picked. The hem, being much bigger, required a longer sentence, but Mjǫllna considered that Drakkar, being a religious stallion, would appreciate having the names of the Æsir sewn in it, and Rarity seconded her.

“It's really wonderful, Rarity!” said Mjǫllna, her joy booming in every word she spoke. “I'm sure he'll love it!”

“It may be wrong for me to say,” started Rarity as she delighted herself at the sight of the suit, “but I think I outdid myself with this one.”

“If I may, Rarity,” interrupted Mjǫllna while pointing at the strange curved pin Rarity had stitched on Drakkar's cloak to keep it hold in place. “Where did you get that?”

“Oh, this?” repeated Rarity with a chuckle. “Well, this is Spike's baby fang!” At those words, Mjǫllna’s hoof paused on its caress along the overtunic, her eyes widened and fixed on Rarity with a surprised stare. At her reaction, Rarity she let out a short laugh. As the blacksmith opened her mouth to talk, Rarity raised her hook and resumed speaking. “You see, a few days ago, one of Spike's baby fangs fell off. He came to see me, bouncing in pure joy. He said that Twilight told her that the Fang Fairy was going to come that night to take his fang and give him some bits.”

“Aww, that's adorable!” said Mjǫllna, putting her fore hooves together. “How did you get the fang, though?” she asked as she returned to her laid back position. “I mean, Spike's surely coming to the Gala too, and he'll notice that it's his fang.”

“I had to think fast for that one,” admitted Rarity with a nod. “You see, the moment I saw the little fang, I knew it would be absolutely perfect for Drakkar's suit.” The unicorn slowly raised her left hoof and moved it to the right in mid-air, her eyes looking at the wall, yet staring at the infinite. “It would emphasize his fighting spirit and ferocity. Not to mention that such an imposing runes would fit perfectly with a mythical creature's fang.” As she smiled at her own exposition, Mjǫllna covered her muzzle to contain her giggling. Rarity noticed it, clearing her throat and resuming her tale. “So, where as I? Oh, right! I was talking to Spike about the idea I had for Drakkar's suit, but he wasn't being cooperative. I can't get mad at him for that, though. But then I decided to offer him a couple jewels for him in exchange, and even then he hesitated for a moment before saying no again.”

Mjǫllna leaned forward as Rarity spoke, her ears perked up so as to not miss the smallest detail of the story. Though last night she talked to Drakkar about meeting at Carousel Boutique, she couldn't leave without knowing how Rarity's tale ended.

“After rejecting the jewels, I took a different approach,” continued Rarity, showing a sheepish smile. “A peck on the cheek worked wonders, and he allowed me to take the fang. I still offered him the gems, and I promised to talk to Twilight to let her tell Princess Celestia about what had happened so she could talk to the Fang Fairy. Of course, he woke up the next morning and found his bits under the pillow,” she added with a wink.

“I'm glad that Spike finally accepted and got a fair reward for it,” admitted Mjǫllna with a joyful smile. “We should hide the suit before Drakkar arrives; I want to see the look on his face when he sees it!” she added with, sparkling teeth shining in her grin.

Rarity nodded as she magically lifted the suit carefully folding both the tunic and the cloak until they were able to fit in a box on the table. As soon as she closed it, the door's bell tolled, causing both mares' ears to perk up as they turned to the newcomer.

“I apologize for being late,” said Drakkar with a low nod as he closed the door behind him. Rarity shook her hoof with a smile, while Mjǫllna playfully wiggled her tail at the sight of the unicorn stallion.

“Helping Fluttershy with the animals, as usual?” asked Rarity with a smile.

Drakkar nodded, his drooped ears bouncing up and down as well. “Even though I’ve been living with her almost a month, I’m still amazed by the army of animals she has there,” replied Drakkar with a tired huff.

“I'm glad you're finally here!” exclaimed Mjǫllna with a seductive smile as she slowly backed into the dressing room. “I've been longing to show you something. Wait here!” With those words, she winked at Drakkar before the door closed in front of her.

“So, Drakkar,” started Rarity, levitating a few clothes from a chair before offering him the seat, “are you looking forward to going to the Grand Galloping Gala? The girls and I definitely are. I was against using the same dresses from last year, but they simply adore those. And I can't simply be the only one with a brand new dress; that wouldn't be fair for them!”

Rarity giggled shamefully as Drakkar blinked in astonishment at her talking, with a look in his eyes that begged for an explanation. “I... guess I'm looking forward to it too,” he admitted while focusing his attention on the dressing room Mjǫllna had entered. “A lot of things will happen there, and I'm not totally sure they'll go as planned.”

“You're nervous about the meeting with the Princesses, that's normal,” said Rarity with a quick shake of her hoof. “But I've met with Celestia herself on a few occasions. I'm sure you won't have problems. They are very patient and, if what Twilight and you have been working on benefits us, she won't hesitate in signing the treaty.”

“It took us very long to find things that would benefit the alliance, at least concerning trading,” admitted Drakkar with a shrug. “Compared to Fimbulvetr, Equestria is a really advanced place. But I won't know how the negotiations will go until I get there. Not to mention,” added Drakkar with a worried gaze, “that I lack any political skill at all. Sure, I can talk to them and recommend deals but, in the end, it depends on the jarlar and the Konungr to approve.”

“As I said, Drakkar, relax,” repeated Rarity, tapping her hooves together. “Think of it this way; you were sent here to update maps, right?” Drakkar nodded at her words. “Good, you've done that, and also have enough information about Equestria's culture that will widen Fimbulvetr's knowledge of our land. You've already done much more than you were expected to do, so you don't really need to get the alliance. Sure, if you get it, both kingdoms will prosper, but that doesn't depend solely on you.” Rarity kept her eyes focused on Drakkar as she spoke,but the stallion looked around him with drooped ears. “You didn't even need to do this, but you're giving it a try for your kingdom,” she said before resting her hoof on his shoulder, making him stare back at her. When he did, Rarity showed a sincere and comforting smile. “And that's absolutely laudable.”

“I guess you're right, Rarity,” admitted Drakkar with a defeated sigh, “but I still would like to succeed here. You see—”

“I'm ready!” said Mjǫllna from inside the dressing room.

“Oh, good! She finished putting on her dress!” replied Rarity as she clapped full of enthusiasm. “Come out, darling! I'm sure Drakkar will love it!”

The dressing room's doors opened as Mjǫllna walked out of the dressing room, the sight of her making Drakkar's jaw drop. Her clothing consisted on a plain, bright yellow underdress that trailed gracefully on the floor, with the neck closed by a copper, tong-shaped brooch. Over it, she wore a shorter, apron-like silken dress of a radiant orange, suspended by shoulder straps and fastened by another two brooches, both in the shape of anvils. Hammer patterns that matched the brooches in color were braided across the dress' cuffs and edgings. Suspended between both anvil brooches hung one of Gleipna's heirlooms that she had borrowed for the occasion; a necklace with úlfsvetir fangs as beads. A cool breeze emanated from the imposing ornament.

“Oh my, Mjǫllna, you look fabulous!” cheered Rarity with pride as she delighted herself at the sight of one of her two latest creation. She then looked to her left to see that Drakkar's mouth was still agape, eyes focused on the mare in front of him. “Drakkar, manners!” scolded Rarity, though her words didn't seem to have any effect on him.

Mjǫllna chuckle, trying to move her tail under the dress, but its weight didn't allow it. “Don't worry, Rarity,” she assured as she walked towards the mesmerized stallion. “I like things easy every now and then.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow at her words, only to see Mjǫllna getting right in front of Drakkar, showing a brazen smile for an instant before grabbing his head with one hoof and pulling his head towards hers. The fiery, passionate kiss broke the enchantment Drakkar was in, closing his eyes and letting his tongue play with Mjǫllna's. Even with the chilling breeze emanating from her necklace, neither of them moved away from each other, their nostrils warming each other's muzzles with the air that came out. After recovering from Mjǫllna's sudden reaction, Rarity finally looked away, fanning herself with a hoof before turning around and walking towards the box where she had hidden the suit. As she caressed it, both ponies finally moved away from each other, if slowly.

"Þín fegurð gjøri sunnu óþarfri, því at þín kjólinn ok brosit foera ljós í þessu rúmi,” said Drakkar with a soft breath.

The back of Mjǫllna's dress moved a bit as she tried to wiggle her tail again, but its weight made it barely noticeable. Instead, she smirked at him, keeping her ears perked up as she spoke. “I hope you didn't think that one while we kissed,” she said in a slightly mocking tone with a wink. “You should be focused what you're doing.”

“Remember that I was a skáld,” replied Drakkar with a laugh. “I'm good at improvising.”

Mjǫllna nodded at her statement, slowly walking around him, scanning his body as she did so. “I'd love to see that improvisation talent of yours in different fields.”

A loud throat-clearing sound made both ponies stare at Rarity, whose face was slightly blushing at Mjǫllna's words. Tapping the box with her hoof, she looked at Drakkar. “I also have something for you,” she said as she levitated the box right in front of him, leaving it on the table.

Drakkar stared at the box, switching to both Rarity and Mjǫllna as a dumbfounded expression twisted his muzzle. After both mares nodded at him, he slowly stretched his hoof to open it, gasping in awe as soon as he noticed the silken suit carefully folded inside. His horn shone dimly as he levitated the overtunic and cloak with extreme care. “This... I...” Drakkar's words didn't come out, enthralled as he was at the sight of the outstanding attire. His eyes scanned it, whispering the words he read in the neckline, cuffs and hem to himself.

“That is your suit for the Grand Galloping Gala,” informed Rarity with a proud smile.

“This is so...” Drakkar shook his head in astound, still admiring the small details of the overtunic. “How did you learn about the patterns of Scandineighvian sewing?”

“You can thank my grandmother for that,” said Mjǫllna with a grin.

“I just hope that we can put our differences aside, Drakkar,” added Rarity as she lowered her head. “I am aware that we have never got along well. If you're leaving soon, and I'm sure once the Gala's over, you will, I'd rather know that we made up for what happened. This is my... vengeance, according to your culture.”

“You are forgiven,” replied Drakkar, to both mares' joy. After speaking, the stallion began to chuckle, still fascinated by the suit. “How couldn't I forgive you? Just look at this! This is a suit worthy of a Jarl or the Konungr itself!”

“Well, of course it is!” said Rarity with her chest puffed with pride. “After all, if you are to cause a good impression to the Princesses, you must dress accordingly.”

“I knew I should dress accordingly, but I didn't think—”

“Drakkar,” interjected Mjǫllna as she rested a hoof on his shoulder. “Try it on and we'll talk about that later.”

“Right, I have to,” replied Drakkar with a low chuckle. However, his smile faded and his face grew pale as his hoof reached the bear pelt's legs surrounding his neck.

“Oh, Celestia, how could I forget that?” asked Rarity with a gasp while covering her mouth.

“It's okay, Rarity, let me handle this.” Mjǫllna stood in front of him, keeping eye contact with Drakkar as she spoke with a smooth, tender voice. “Drakkar, you don't need to fear. You're in a friendly place where nopony wants to harm you. Besides,” she added while grabbing his hoof and pressing it against her chest, “I'm with you now. It will just be a moment; we'll give you the pelt as soon as you put the suit on, okay? I'm going to be next to you all the time. I know you can do it.”

Drakkar slowly nodded, though Mjǫllna still had to pull his hoof away to take the pelt off. When she did, Rarity quickly levitated the overtunic towards Drakkar, who kept his eyes shut. Mjǫllna kept the pelt over her as she asked Drakkar to stand on his hind legs and raise his hooves. The suit slowly fell down, the silken sleeves sliding softly down his forelegs as the rest of the suit caressed his body and head. Once that was done, the cloak swung across his back to drape across his withers before being held firmly in place by Spike's fang. Rarity did her best to try not to harm Drakkar with it, knowing that, despite being a baby dragon, Spike was able to eat gems without problem, so she feared she could wound him if she wasn't careful enough.

When Rarity finished dressing Drakkar, Mjǫllna quickly put Gisli's pelt over the cloak and crossed its paws around his neck, covering the dragon's fang. At the touch of the fur against his body, his nervousness slowly faded away. His reaction had been by far less violent than the last time, though he still seemed uneasy and slightly shaken. His trembling came to a halt and his breathing, which had become a bit stronger, returned to normal. When he opened his eyes Mjǫllna stood in front of him, not having moved an inch away from him.

“Well done, Drakkar,” lauded Mjǫllna tenderly while grabbing Drakkar's cheeks right before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“The girls will be here in about half an hour to get ready for the Gala too,” announced Rarity as she tapped the table with a hoof. “I'm sure they won't mind, but I'd like to ask you before assuming things. Would you like to come to the Gala with us? The nine of us together!”

“Nine?” asked Drakkar with a raised eyebrow.

“Certainly, darling,” she confirmed with a nod. “Spike's coming with us too.”

“And remember, Drakkar,” added Mjǫllna, staring deep into his eyes, “that everything will be okay. Your gæfa has brought you this far; you'll succeed!” she added with a wink.

Rarity blinked in confusion but, before she could ask, Drakkar spoke. “I didn't consider myself that fortunate until now, to be honest.”

“So... that word means luck?” asked Rarity.

“Good luck, to be more accurate,” replied Drakkar with a wide smile. “In Fimbulvetr, we believe in luck, and it's said that nothing can stop a lucky pony, and little could help an unlucky one.”

“Well, I really think you should give the treaty a chance, then,” assured Rarity with a comforting grin. “Luck has shone upon you so far; you've made good friends and had learned about a new kingdom and enjoyed your stay.”

“I must say that you're right,” seconded Drakkar before looking at Mjǫllna. “But if there's something that proves that gæfa is with me, it's the fact that I met her.”

Mjǫllna chuckled, throwing a seductive stare at the stallion. “And you haven't even seen half of the reasons for which you will be saying that.” After those words, she tried to wiggle her tail again. However, she felt the dress' restrictions once more, causing her to let out a frustrated grunt as her ears lay flat.

Drakkar laughed at Mjǫllna's reaction, but Rarity blushed furiously at her words. “My, Mjǫllna, you should control yourself a bit!”

“Okay, let's wait for the others, then,” said Drakkar while looking for an unoccupied seat.

-o-

After the six mares and the dragon arrived, they didn't waste time and got dressed for the Grand Galloping Gala. Like last year, Twilight and her friends had jumped inside a carriage, and they asked Mjǫllna to join in as well. Spike climbed up to the conductor's seat doing nothing else, since he didn't want to annoy the stallions who had decided to pull them there. Keeping up their pace walked Drakkar, who considered that the seven mares would be tight enough inside the carriage without him.

“There it is!” announced Spike, pointing in front of him.

Some of the mares looked out, confirming what he had said. The large ivory castle stood about a mile away, but it could be perfectly seen from where they were. They also spotted a lot of other carriages in front of them and ponies trotting alongside them. The pompous aristocrats were dressed in the finest clothing and wearing jewelry that would make jarls look like lowly farmers with cheap heirlooms. Though it was true that Drakkar and his friends were also formally dressed to attend the Gala, they were still hard workers and down to earth ponies, just like him. On the other hoof, most aristocrats that got to see Drakkar looked at him over their shoulders, much to his anger.

Spike looked at Drakkar, noticing the stallion's sneer and deep frown. “Drakkar, are you okay?” he asked.

“I'm not going to like this, I can feel it,” growled Drakkar.

At the sound of those words, Mjǫllna stepped out of the vehicle, trotting to get right next to him. “Why do you say that?”.

“The way they look at me, Mjǫllna,” he replied with a snarl. “They think they're better than me without even knowing me. It's the same sensation I had in Trottingham.”

“Just ignore them, Drakkar,” said Mjǫllna, smirking as she moved closer to him. “Those aren't the ponies you have to impress or convince, but the Princesses. Remember?”

A defeated sigh escaped his lips. “I know, but I don't think I'll get to talk to Celestia and Luna until much later. Not to mention that I only know you, Twilight and her friends,” he added with a sad grimace.

“That's more than enough, Drakkar,” she assured as she gently bumped him. “Besides, you might see Shining Armor there. Last time I saw you two, you seemed to be getting along well.”

“He's fought against the worst of odds and lived to tell the tale,” said Drakkar with an approving nod.

“There you go!” she chuckled. “It won't be as horrible as you think. Just try not to pay attention to the nobleponies.” Mjǫllna looked forward, the castle majestically standing before them. “I know it's hard to be different from the rest,” she added with a frown, to which Drakkar turned to face her. “Until I met Berry Punch, I wasn't able to feel comfortable around ponies outside my family. Everypony is so... delicate, even in Ponyville. They appreciate my work, but sometimes I felt out of place. I know I've been raised to be a Scandineighvian mare, but it was still tough for me sometimes.”

As Mjǫllna's sad frown became deeper, Drakkar got closer to her and snuggled her, making her laugh at the tickling sensation. “You don't need to worry about that anymore,” he assured with a tender smile.

“I sure hope so,” replied Mjǫllna as she showed a sparkling grin. “Though I didn't mind putting a stallion or two on their place,” she added while punching the air.

When they reached the castle's entrance, Twilight and her friends got down from the carriage, as did Spike from the conductor's seat. The nine of them walked inside tickets in hoof, and were politely shown the way to the coat checks.

“Are you going to leave your coat here, sir?” asked the staff pony, his eyes widening as he noticed that what Drakkar was wearing wasn't a cloak.

“Huh?” replied Drakkar, briefly astounded at the question. After an instant, he quickly shook his head. “No, I'll keep it with me.”

“As you wish, sir. Please, enjoy your stay.”

With that short dialogue, the group was free to roam inside the huge room. Perfectly polished columns with detailed relieves supported the ceiling. Between them, long tables could be seen, full of small canapés of every conceivable flavor. Every pony there was dressed with the most luxurious and pompous suits and dresses, and the mares were wearing mind-boggling manecuts that sometimes defied logic. Far away, in a low platform at the end of a few stairs, a group of four ponies played music that added a soothing atmosphere to the crowded place.

“Drakkar, are you okay?” asked Twilight with concern, staring at Drakkar's drooped ears and slightly annoyed grimace.

“Yes, it's just that the music is...” Drakkar move his hoof in circles in mid air for a moment before resuming the sentence. “Different, so to speak. I could get used to it, but for now it sounds too foreign to me.”

“There's Princess Celestia!” exclaimed Twilight with a burst of euphoria. She pointed at the long stairway at the other side of the room, slightly to the left of the musicians. At the end of it, both Princesses greeted a long queue of ponies that divided the hall in two irregular halves.

“By Þórshamarr!” cried Drakkar, his eyes widened at the sight. “It’s going to take us forever to get there!”

“I guess mass punctuality is sometimes an issue, darling,” admitted Rarity while bobbing her hair casually. “Girls, what do you say if we enjoy the party for a while before greeting the Princesses? I would certainly appreciate drinking something.”

“Sounds good to me!” seconded Rainbow Dash with a quick flap of her wings. “I'm going to try and find Spitfire; the Wonderbolt Academy was great and all, but I prefer having some casual conversation with her.”

“Well, at least ya don't start hyperventilating every time ya see 'er anymore,” said Applejack with a wink. “Ah remember how you were last year 'round here.”

“Yeah, I guess I've grown used to being close to her, so it doesn't affect me that much anymore,” replied Rainbow Dash with a shrug. “Besides, gotta stay professional, you know?”

“I'll go see if I can find Shining Armor,” said Drakkar as he slowly moved away.

“Do you want us to go help you find him?” asked Twilight. “He should be with his wife Cadance, and I would like to see him too.”

“Sounds like a plan, though I have to go somewhere else before.” Drakkar showed a slightly pained grimace before facing Spike. “I need to find the outhouse. Do you know where it is?”

“The what?” asked Spike with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, the toilet!” said Applejack. “Spike, can you take him to the stallions' bathroom?”

“Sure!” Spike walked past the stallion, waving his hand as he did. “Come on, Drakkar, they're not too far from here.”

“We'll wait for you right here,” said Mjǫllna with a wink.

Drakkar and Spike walked across the huge room, the former looking around him to meet ponies that threw curious gazes at him before whispering to each other.

“Oddr,” said Drakkar, turning to face the young dragon.

“What's up?”

“Do you think this will be worth the effort?”

Spike raised an eyebrow, astonished at the question. “What are you talking about? The meeting with the Princesses?” Drakkar replied with a nod, to which the dragon shrugged in ignorance. “I wish I could help you with that. If Celestia and Luna are interested on that, you should be fine.”

The stallion let out a long sigh before speaking. “I am not an ambassador or a diplomat,” he admitted with a defeated voice.

“I'm sure you won't need that,” said Spike, shaking his claw. “Look, I know I might not be the most appropriate guy to talk to about this, but for what we've been discussing with Twilight these days, it's all about finding what things you could trade. It depends on your rulers back at your kingdom to decide, but it's still important.”

“That's true,” admitted Drakkar, nodding weakly as he looked around, trying to find something that looked like the restroom at Fluttershy’s house. “I hope we're getting there already.”

“Yeah, it's over here.” Spike pointed at a couple white wooden doors, each one with a black picture of a stallion and a mare's profile respectively. “Yours is the one on the left.”

“We couldn't have arrived at a better moment!” exclaimed Drakkar in relief.

“Do you want me to wait for you outside?” offered Spike.

“I know where the girls are,” replied Drakkar with a quick shake of his head. “I'll just walk back when I'm done. I don't really feel comfortable forcing you to stay here until I'm done,” he added with a laugh.

“As you wish,” said Spike, shrugging as he walk away. “Make sure to wash your hooves when you're done!”

Spike’s words hit him when he was about to open the bathroom’s door, raising an eyebrow before turning to face the young dragon. After standing for a moment blinking in astonishment, Drakkar shrugged it off, considering that Spike wouldn’t say anything with ill intentions. After a quick salute the young dragon didn't see, Drakkar opened the stallions' restroom door, standing right under the frame in awe for a short while. Several marble sinks to wash their hooves covered one of the walls, a huge mirror standing right over them and towel hangers under them. To his right there were several walls that created smaller compartments with a toilet in each one of them. Without a second thought, Drakkar unceremoniously pushed the first half-opened door he found and slumped against the toilet. Once in the privacy loneliness granted, he let out a long and exhausted sigh, the efforts to remain calm at the nobleponies’ looks having proven to be mentally taxing.

When he was done, he cleaned himself and walked to the sink to wash his hooves. Next to him walked a white unicorn with a long, blond mane and light blue eyes. Despite his obvious uptight manners, he was only wearing a cravat and a bow tie around his neck. As both ponies washed their hooves, the white unicorn looked at Drakkar, his face slowly twisting into a disgusted grimace as the Scandineighvian pony levitated a towel to dry himself.

“What in Equestria are you wearing?” asked the white unicorn.

Drakkar raised an eyebrow before looking at the stallion through the corner of the eye. “A bear pelt,” he replied with a shrug.

“You must certainly not be from Equestria if you can wear such an abominable attire to the Gala,” continued the ivory stallion, openly stating his disapproval.

With a deep frown, Drakkar turned to face him, scanning him from head to hooves. “You're not the most appropriate pony to tell me that,” he spat bluntly, “for you're only a couple lesser ornaments away from coming naked to a formal party.”

The white stallion let out a loud gasp, taking a step back in shock. “How dare you talk to me like that. Do you have any idea who I am?”

“It is obvious to even the youngest of foals that I do not,” replied Drakkar, shifting to a more formal speech, similar to the one he used back in his days as a skáld.

The white unicorn let out an offended huff before speaking. “Well, I expected everypony to know me, but you're a foreigner in these lands. And apparently my reputation doesn't precede me as much as I would've thought.” With a pompous gesture, he pressed a hoof against his chest. “I am Prince Blueblood,” he said proudly.

“I have no idea who you are,” replied Drakkar. “Despite your title, ponies don't seem to mention you that frequently.”

“And who might you be, who dresses like a savage and shares the manners of one?” asked Blueblood with a frown.

At those words, Drakkar let out a short snarl, menacingly showing his teeth. “Watch your words, aristocrat. I am Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson, Hoofcarl of Scandineighvia.”

Blueblood raised an eyebrow, staring at Drakkar for a moment. With a low huff, he shook his head quickly and returned to his magnanimous gestures. “Well, I've wasted enough time standing your lack of etiquette. My entourage awaits me.” Having said that, Blueblood walked past Drakkar, throwing the used towel at him. With a grunt, Drakkar grabbed the towel, curled it into a ball and threw it back at Blueblood, hitting him in back of the neck.

“What in the name of Celestia do you think you're doing?!” cried Blueblood, grabbing the towel as his face showed an expression of utmost repulsion.

“You don't do to others what you don't like others doing to you,” replied Drakkar with a frown.

Ignoring Drakkar's words, Bueblood, shrugged and turned around again. “I refuse to waste my time arguing with a wildling.”

Before Blueblood could reach the door, Drakkar jumped in front of him. The Norse pony's horn and throat glowed as he let out a bear-like growl. “My patience has a limit, Blueblood,” said Drakkar, his eyes piercing through Blueblood's. “Besides, this wildling, as you call me, can outsmart you in any field you can think of.”

At that comment, Blueblood let out an huff, shaking his head in disagreement. “Allow me to doubt that. I am one of the best versed poets in Canterlot. I don't sell my poetry, mind you,” he added, “for I both don't need the bits and I despise the very idea of somepony quoting my work.”

Drakkar raised an eyebrow, a confident smirk blooming on his face. “Poetry, you say? Well, that's one of my specialties.”

“Really?” asked Blueblood in obvious disbelief, a mischievous smile slowly blooming on his face. “Well, in that case, you wouldn't mind showing it to us.”

“Us?” repeated Drakkar. “What do you have in mind?”

“Follow me,” said Blueblood before throwing the towel into one of the many unused sinks. When he got out of the restroom, followed closely by Drakkar, Blueblood whistled loudly, calling the attention of about a dozen other aristocrats. They stopped their conversations and exaggerated gestures to turn to both unicorns.

“My fellow ponies,” started Blueblood, raising his hoof as he spoke. “Please, pay attention here, for you're going to witness something unique!”

“If you're going to introduce me as if I were a two-headed cattle,” interrupted Drakkar, “I'd rather do it myself.”

“Your attire fits your rudeness, no doubt,” scolded Blueblood as he drew an arc with his hoof between him and Drakkar. Before looking back at the small crowd. “This stallion here wants to challenge me to a poetry contest.” The ponies whispered at each other, some of them staring at Drakkar's pelt as he walked next to Blueblood.

“I never mentioned a challenge,” corrected Drakkar, only to get Blueblood's hoof inches away from his face.

“Details, details. You wanted to show that you know poetry despite your origins, and you'll do it. I'll start,” announced Blueblood with a confident smirk before clearing his throat.

“Behold, my friends, for here we have
a savage standing before us.
Wealth such as ours overwhelms him;
they're rare in his stinky morass.”

The nobleponies cheered Blueblood’s impromptu, if simple display. Contrasting with the joy of the ponies surrounding them, Drakkar growled. His legs trembled at the desire of crushing the pompous unicorn's head against the marble tiles of the floor. Some of the witnesses were also laughing at Blueblood's rhymes against the Scandineighvian stallion, which only intensified Drakkar's fury.

“Þegið!” he shouted in a fit of rage, pounding both fore hooves on the ground. For every step forward he took towards the sneering Blueblood, Drakkar exhaled through his nose as his chest heaved in anger. He stared at the pompous unicorn in the eyes, his blood boiling at the lack of reactions from him. “You can boast about your heirloom all you want, aristocrat,” said Drakkar, “you can boast about how many mares beg for your attention. But you never mock my kingdom! Did I make myself clear?”

“You can mock Equestria in return if you feel offended,” replied Blueblood as he walked to his left, moving away from Drakkar. “Though you might have problems finding something to complain about. Instead, try telling us about how wonderful life in a marsh is.”

A few ponies around them chuckled pompously at Blueblood's comment. As they did, Drakkar turned to look at each one of them, each one stepping back as he did. It took him a few deep breaths to put his anger away, then taking a step back as he showed a confident smile. “Let me show you how we write poetry in the North!” After speaking, he closed his eyes as he meditatively caressed his bare chin. A narrow smile bloomed on his face, slowly turning into a confident smirk, his now opened eyes throwing a defiant gaze at Blueblood. As he proudly hit his chest with a hoof, he chanted his verses.

“Jarn ber gegn jarni.
Óróliga venjum
at eta með Æsum.
Þetta er norrohests fjǫr!”

Drakkar was grinning broadly; it was one of his favorite poems back in his days as a skáld, and a popular battle chant during raids. The crowd stood there, barely moving a muscle. However, they weren't in awe or with their jaws dropped. Instead, they were blinking in confusion, whispering to each other. While Drakkar was certain that nopony would understand him, he expected them to appreciate the metrics and melodiousness of it. Instead, Blueblood scratched his cheek before speaking.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know that 'poetry' in your homeland meant 'incoherent babble.'” Blueblood's comment was followed by bursts of laughter from the crowd around them.

At first, Drakkar stood motionless, his eyes widened at the initial shock of going through such humiliation, but his surprised expression was slowly replaced by a frown. A guttural snarl left his mouth as he showed his teeth menacingly. “I am far from fluent enough in Equestrian to compose poetry in your language, Blueblood,” he growled.

“Your reactions entertain me, so I'll give you that,” replied Blueblood, caressing his blond mane as he spoke, “but I don't think your barbaric language is that hard to learn. I wouldn't waste time and effort to do so, mind you.” Every sentence made Drakkar's frown deeper, but a threatening expression was all he'd dare showing. “Let's go for something more universal, shall we?”

“Such as?” inquired Drakkar while cocking an eyebrow.

“Why, music, of course!” To Blueblood's surprise, Drakkar smiled broadly. “I reckon you know about music yourself.”

“I was a skáld in my youth,” announced Drakkar with a proud grin. “I played at some festivities and even at a þing once.”

“Fascinating!” he gasped in astonishment. “And here I thought that you could only do that much with sticks and stones!”

Drakkar's grin quickly faded away as he stared furiously at Blueblood before letting out an exasperated huff. “And what experience do you have? Do you allow servants to play for you or you spend your fortune attending to concerts to brag about how much money you have?”

“Well, I do like assisting to concerts, but I'm also a skilled, self-educated flutist.” With those words, Blueblood gently pointed towards the other end of the room, where the musicians were playing. “If you consider yourself that good, you wouldn't mind playing for the whole castle, would you?”

“I don't think anypony would appreciate that gesture,” said Drakkar with a raised eyebrow. “Besides, I don't even think that's allowed.”

“This is far from the best music I've heard,” spat Blueblood, raising his hoof between himself and the distant musicians in disgust. With a challenging grin, he stepped forward, getting mere inches away from Drakkar. “You boast about being a skilled musician; the crowd would love to hear it.”

Drakkar looked at the musicians, paying close attention at the instruments, recognizing only about half of them. A light grey mare was playing a huge fiddle. Even when standing on her hind legs, the large rebec-like instrument stood even taller than her. Another light brown stallion was sitting in front of a huge wooden box with black and white lever-like keys that played different notes depending on the struck key. One of the ones he recognized, though briefly, was the flute a light olive mare was playing. Despite the fact that she was playing the flute sideways, it shared the same shape of the usual ones in Scandineighvia. Finally, there was a mint mare playing the only instrument the stallion seemed to recognize on the spot: a lyre.

“I'd ask if they have drums for you,” said Blueblood, who still stood next to Drakkar, “but I'm assuming you're good enough to take a real instrument.”

“I don't need anything to mark the rhythm,” replied Drakkar with a smirk. “There's one instrument there I know how to play.”

“Shall we go, then?” offered Blueblood as he gestured with a hoof, inviting Drakkar to follow him.

With a nod, both unicorns walked towards the musicians. Ponies from the crowd moved away to let them go through the throng of curious eyes. Those who hadn't been with them from the first moment began to pay attention to the herd of ponies following the two stallions. By the time they had reached the place where the musicians were playing, they'd already finished the song they had been playing. As they flipped a page of their music sheets, Blueblood spoke.

“Pardon me,” he said gallantly with a pompous swing of his hoof, “but I'd like to borrow some of your instruments for a contest.”

The musicians stared at each other in confusion for a moment before Blueblood's horn began to shine. A magic aura surrounded the light olive mare's western concert flute, which slowly moved towards him. With a disgusted grimace, he cleaned the flute's mouth with a napkin he pulled out of his lapels. Drakkar shook his head in disagreement, massaging his forehead as he did. Around them, the mass of ponies became larger by the minute.

“Come on, grab whatever you can play and take a seat,” said Blueblood with a mischievous smile. “You're going to need it.”

With a growl, Drakkar walked towards the mint-colored mare, who took a step back and hugged her lyre, shaking her head vigorously. “Please, don't!” she begged. “It's a family heirloom!”

“I'm really sorry,” said Drakkar, “but this is the only instrument I know how to play.” He stared at the lyre for a moment, his eyebrow raised as he scanned it as much as the mare's forelegs allowed him. “Though it's a bit smaller than the ones I used to play.”

“Really?” asked the mare, receiving a nod from him. “How big were they? Because you might be thinking about harps.”

“No, they were three times as long, but the width was the same,” explained Drakkar.

“If you're done with the lesson, please, I'm going to start playing,” interjected Blueblood. The room became silent as the ponies paid attention to them. From afar, Mjǫllna and her friends tried in vain to get closer to watch. Rainbow Dash flew other them to get a better view, and Spike got on top of Twilight to tell them everything that was happening. Celestia and Luna, on the other hoof, kept watching from their upper position with surprised grimaces.

Blueblood stood on his legs, his magic levitating the flute as his forehooves moved quickly across the instrument for a brief moment. Most nobleponies weren't surprised when Blueblood started playing, the waves of melodious music quickly expanding across the room. He was able to combine quick inhaling and timing to give the impression that he didn't need to breathe while playing. What had started as a slow song slowly increased its pace while keeping the catchy tune and rhythm. Blueblood received a standing ovation from the crowd, after which he returned the flute to its owner.

“You can consider playing the flute right now as if you're kissing me. It's more than you'll ever be able to aspire,” said Blueblood without looking at the mare.

“He's really good!” said the mint-coated mare before looking at Drakkar, who was showing a slightly annoyed grimace. “Are you okay?”

“It's just that I'm not used to this kind of music,” admitted Drakkar with a shrug. “It sounds odd to me.”

“Come on, grab the lyre and play already!” ordered Blueblood bluntly. “Do I have to give it to you too?”

The mare tightened the grip as he looked at Drakkar, who sighed heavily while shaking his lowered head. “You need it, right?”

“I do,” admitted Drakkar, “but I can't take it away from you like that.”

“May I... stay next to you while you play it?” asked the mare with pleading eyes.

“Very well, Miss...”

“Lyra,” replied the mare. “Lyra Heartstrings.”

“Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson,” he said with a nod.

“Get on with it, will you two!” shouted Blueblood. Without giving them a second to react, he magically pulled Lyra's instrument and rest it on Drakkar's hooves. “There! Wasn't that hard, was it?”

“Hey!” cried Lyra, quickly throwing a furious glare at Blueblood, only to turn to Drakkar with the same anger. The stallion was levitating the lyre in front of him, gently caressing the thin strings before pulling them softly, paying close attention at the sound. The carefulness with which he was playing the instrument made her smile, though her hooves still trembled at the lack of the lyre’s touch.

“Believe me, I'm trying my best not to strangle him,” whispered Drakkar as he kept testing the instrument. “It's smaller than the ones I used but, other than that, it's pretty much the same. This shouldn't take long, Miss Lyra.”

Drakkar raised his forehooves, resting them at both sides of the lyre. The ponies in the crowd began whispering to each other, whereas Mjǫllna and her friends tried to approach where Drakkar and Blueblood were. From their privileged position, Luna leaned forward with a wide grin as Celestia kept watching from a more cautious position.

As Drakkar's hooves tenderly caressed the strings to get used to the sound, Lyra's ears perked up, paying close attention to the music. With his eyes closed, Drakkar started playing a song, quite faster than Blueblood's from the start. To most ponies' ears, the melody that spread across the hall was eerie at best; a weird amalgamation of twisted harmony, too foreign to be appreciated. Only three ponies in Canterlot Castle were enjoying Drakkar's tune, and one of them was the Scandineighvian stallion. For the rest, Blueblood included, it was harmonic noise. When Drakkar inhaled happily, ready to sing, Blueblood's voice woke him from his melodic daydreaming.

“Stop! In the name of Celestia, stop!” cried Blueblood, leaving Drakkar motionless. “Please, stop torturing that instrument! I've had the misfortune of listening to the horrible noise a cat makes when you step on its tail, and that's even more pleasant to the hearing than that!”

To Drakkar's surprise, a large amount of ponies nodded in approval while others shook their heads with disappointment in their faces. He slowly walked back, his face twisted in shock as he did and his legs trembling under his own weight. Lyra stayed next to him, and the other three musicians followed her, throwing contempt glares at Blueblood.

“What are you trying to prove with this?” demanded Lyra as she pointed at Blueblood.

“What everypony else but his stallion apparently knows,” he replied with a smirk. “You can dress a wildling with the finest clothes, but it will still be a wildling.”

Drakkar let himself fall on the floor on his haunches, staring at the richly ornate, multicolor tiles under him. Without looking up, he lifted the lyre for Lyra to grab it, pressing both sides of his head tightly once his hooves were free.

“Drakkar!” called Mjǫllna from afar as she pushed her way through the crowd.

“No... not her,” muttered Drakkar, further hiding his head between his forehooves and behind his mane. “Not now, Freyja, I beg you!”

Mjǫllna, after a few moments of struggle, arrived where Drakkar was, lowering her head in an attempt to stare at him in the eyes. “Drakkar, get up and fight for your honor!.”

“I...” Drakkar slowly looked up, seeing the concerned look on her face while her hooves caressed his leonine mane. “I can't. If I do so, I'll mess everything up.” After speaking, Drakkar lowered his head once more.

“You have fought against armies of Manegols,” she said, tenderly resting her forehead on his, “scared away packs of úlfsvetir and protected the Jarl with your life. You're my brave Siggurð, and I refuse to believe that a noble can turn you into this!“

”I was never forced to hold my hooves back before, Mjǫllna,” replied Drakkar with a trembling voice. “I am not a lucky pony; my failures here will only mark the ones to come.”

“Look at me, Drakkar,” said Mjǫllna, waiting in vain for a reaction from him. With gritted teeth, she grabbed Drakkar's horn and pulled it up, forcing him to stare at her as he let out a pained grunt. “Lít mík, Hófkarl!” she repeated, frowning at him. “Their opinions don't matter. You have gone through hell and back to get this far! The first Scandineighvian pony to be at Equestria's Grand Galloping Gala! You'll return to Fimbulvetr as a hero, an example to follow! You...”

Her lips trembled as words didn't seem to come out of her. After a couple failed attempts when her mouth moved to let out no sound, Mjǫllna pulled Drakkar towards her, their lips connecting in a fervent kiss. As Drakkar reacted by participating in the passionate gesture, she slowly released his horn from the tight grip, gently resting her hoof on his strong shoulder. Mjǫllna lowered her head enough to reach his lower lip, tenderly biting it as she stared at him with watery eyes.

“You don't need to impress them,” she finally said with a slow shake of her head. “You impressed me, and that's all that matters.” As she spoke, tears ran down her cheeks, still shaking her head as sorrow distorted her voice. “I already lost my father because he didn't think he'd be worthy for me. I don't want that to happen again!” Mjǫllna rested her forehead on his shoulder, surrounding him with her hooves in a tight embrace.

“Mjǫllna...” Drakkar hugged her as well, caressing her long mane as he did under the approving looks of the four musicians, who were trying to hold back their own tears. “You're not going to lose me. That's not going to happen.”

“I don’t think I had requested a drama contest,” said Blueblood nonchalantly with a wave of his hoof. “Move away so the musicians can resume playing!”

Mjǫllna's ears lay flat as she let out a growl between her gritted teeth. “Drakkar,” she said as she broke the hug before looking at him in the eyes. “I know you're holding your hooves back for the sake of a greater good.” Mjǫllna got up, turning to face Blueblood with eyes red in sorrow and fury. With a loud cry, she delivered a fierce punch to Blueblood's cheek. The crowd let out a loud, collective gasp as the white unicorn fell on the ground. When Blueblood landed on the marble tiles, blood started to come out of his lip and inside his mouth. “But I don't have to!” she growled as she smashed her hooves together.

Rainbow Dash quickly flew in front of Mjǫllna, landing between her and the prone Blueblood. “Mjǫllna, that's enough!” she said before the ponies around them began calling the guards in horror.

However, Mjǫllna stood in front of Rainbow Dash with a deep frown, staring at the white unicorn. “I have no regrets, Rainbow Dash,” she replied. “If I am to be taken away from the Gala, so be it.”

“What's going on here!?” said a familiar voice from a distance.

Drakkar's ears perked up, looking around him to find that something was making the crowd of ponies to move away. After a moment, the first row of nobleponies segregated to let Shining Armor, flanked by two unicorn Royal Guards, to walked towards Drakkar.

“Konungsson Shining Armor,” said Drakkar as he hit his chest with a hoof.

“Hoofcarl Drakkar,” replied Shining Armor while a hoof rested on his forehead. “In the name of the Princesses, I beg you to not take into account this inconvenience, and hope that this won't affect the negotiations of the treaty.”

“T... treaty?” repeated Blueblood, slowly getting up while letting out pained groans. His legs trembled under his own weight, taking sudden steps to his sides to prevent from falling. Droplets of blood fell from his mouth to the marble tiles as he spoke.

“This stallion you openly mocked has come to Equestria representing the interests of the kingdom of Fimbulvetr,” announced Shining Armor as he turned to face Blueblood. “Your actions might have endangered the negotiations, and pray Celestia for this not to become the beginning of a war!”

“I'll make sure Mjǫllna won't cause trouble anymore, your Majesty,” said Rainbow Dash, resting a hoof on Mjǫllna's shoulder. “We'll take her to the gardens so she can cool down a bit.”

Shining Armor nodded, then looked at the two guards to his sides. “You two will keep an eye on her for a while,” he ordered, to which they saluted and guided both mares out of the slowly dispersing crowd. “Hoofcarl, allow me to have a cold drink with you. I'm sure it would temper those nerves.”

“I would appreciate it, yes,” replied Drakkar.

Shining Armor threw his hoof over Drakkar's shoulder, pulling forward and moving away from the crowd. “Excellent, we'll forget this little incident.”

Both ponies walked for a while without saying a word. Once they were far enough from the rest, Drakkar let out a long sigh of relief. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” he admitted with an honest grin before raising an eyebrow. “Representative of the kingdom of Fimbulvetr?” he repeated, holding back a snort.

“You're here to consider the possibilities of signing a treaty between Equestria and Fimbulvetr,” said Shining Armor with a serious voice, yet smiling broadly as he spoke. “You might not be an official ambassador, but you're here to protect your nation's interests. I didn't lie to Blueblood, if that's what worries you.”

“Even the part where you said that I would declare war to you?” insisted Drakkar as he raised an eyebrow.

“You might not do it, but I wouldn't have been surprised if a different pony would've reacted that way,” replied Shining Armor bluntly. “We're lucky you had the patience to not take such decision.”

“I wish things were easier sometimes, though” admitted Drakkar with a sigh.

“What are you talking about?” asked Shining Armor with a raised eyebrow.

“I... have a little problem aside from all this diplomatic meeting.” As he spoke, Drakkar's body shivered slightly, slowing his walking speed as he did. “I... I want to ask Mjǫllna's hoof in marriage.”

Shining Armor let out a loud chuckle, patting Drakkar strongly in the back. “Well, congratulations! For what I saw when we met for the first time,” replied Shining Armor with a smirk, “she won't say no if you do.”

“I know, but that's not what I'm concerned about.”

Surprised at his friend's words, Shining Armor turned to face him. Drakkar's forehead and cheeks shone due to the moistness the sweat was causing. “You look a bit wobbly,” he said as he looked at Drakkar with concern. “I'll bring you a drink. The punch they have is amazing.”

“I'll go with you,” said Drakkar immediately after Shining finished talking.

At the sight of the Scandineighvian stallion's sorrowful eyes, Shining Armor could only nod before leaning his head towards a long table. As they walked across the colossal room, a lot of ponies focused their attention of both ponies, which only seemed to worsen Drakkar's state. By the time they reached the table, his breathing had become heavier, more obvious to the ones around him. Shining Armor quickly dragged a cushioned chair of impeccable white close to Drakkar before he filled a cup from the purple punch of the bowl in front of them.

“Take a sit and have a drink,” he offered as he raised the cup towards him. “It doesn't have that much of a kick, but it might calm you a bit.”

With an uncomfortable nod, Drakkar reached the cup and got it close his lips. Despite his trembling, he was able to take a short sip without letting anything drip. The stallion raised an eyebrow, the taste of the beverage making him smile weakly as his shaking became a bit less noticeable. “It's not mead, but it's quite good,” he admitted as he looked at Shining Armor.

“Glad you like it,” he replied as he patted him on the shoulder. And magically took the napkin from his pocket and offered it to Drakkar. “You should wipe that sweat off your face too. Now, what are you concerned about with Mjǫllna's wedding proposal? ”

“Right, that.” After passing the napkin across his forehead and cheeks a couple times, Drakkar lowered his head, staring at the punch as he played with the cup, moving it in small circles. “You see, I want to marry in Scandineighvia, and there are certain laws about marriages that I don't know if they are like the ones there.”

“Such as?” Though the topic seemed not to be the most pleasant for Drakkar, Shining Armor kept the conversation going. Not only for the sake of his own curiosity, but distracting his friend with a conversation was actually soothing the stallion down.

“Well, even before the wedding is set,” explained Drakkar, “we have to set what you call the bride-price. There are three payments that have to be set: The mundr and the morgengifu are given by the groom, and the heiman fylgja, by the bride.”

“And I thought that looking for a wedding ring was too much of a mess,” said Shining Armor with a laugh.

Drakkar shook his head, but let out a snort at his friend's comment. “The groom's offering must be similar to the bride's dowry, but the morgengifu is usually one third or half in amount of it. However, having a morgengifu that equals the value of the heiman fylgja isn't unheard of.”

“Do each payment represent something?” asked Shining Armor with curiosity. “I'm sure my wife would find this very interesting.”

“As long as she doesn't demand her bride-price after hearing about it, sure,” replied Drakkar with a loud laugh, followed by Shining Armor's. “But yes, they all represent something. The mundr is what you might call the bride-price, and its worth is similar to the heiman fylgja that the bride must pay. It's offered not only to ensure the soundness of the marriage economically speaking, but also as a compensation for the bride's family for the loss of her labor at home.”

“I see it's kind of a big deal,” admitted Shining Armor with a nod. “So the wealthier the bride's dowry, the more you have to offer?”

“That's pretty much it, though the minimum mundr is set by law in twelve ounces of silver. In Scandineighvia, at least; I know that in other cities it's as low as eight ounces, so it depends.” Drakkar shrugged with a sad gaze, looking at Shining Armor through the corner of his eye. “Basically, if you can't afford even the minimum mundr, you aren't allowed to marry.”

“I see.” Shining Armor nodded as he found out his friend's concern, and decided to continue the conversation, if only to keep the Scandineighvian stallion distracted as he thought about something to cheer him up. “What about the morgengifu?”

Drakkar showed a shy grin as he scratched his neck. “Well, about that... it's offered for...” He looked around to check that only Shining Armor was close enough to hear before resuming the sentence. “It's offered to the wife for her.... how to put it in a not too crude way?”

“I think I know where this is going,” replied Shining Armor with a raised eyebrow.

“Sexual availability?” asked Drakkar with a slight, barely noticeable blush and a smirk, waiting for his friend's seconding.

“I was right,” said Shining Armor with a loud laugh. “Why is it so hard for you to talk about that? You better fix that before the honeymoon, buddy!” he added as he bumped Drakkar's shoulder.

Drakkar lightly rubbed his hoof against the place where Shining had hit him, letting out a short laugh at his comment. “Well, it's not just sexual availability, but also to ensure financial support during marriage and... well, we don't have healthcare as good as yours, so pregnancy is a bit of a hazard for mares where I live.”

“I understand,” replied Shining Armor with a grim expression. “I have the feeling that it's also used to support the foals, am I right?”

“Possibly yes, but that was mostly the mundr's duty; to ensure that the stallion is wealthy enough to support a family, future foals included,” said Drakkar with a nod. “As for the heiman fylgja,” he continued, “it's the payment set for the bride to pay. The husband administers it, but he can't spend it unwisely. It's also used to help the wife support the family if she widows. Oh, and she gets it back if the couple divorces too.”

“Wait, divorce?” asked Shining Armor with widened eyes. “I didn't expect you to have those. Considering all you have to do to get married, divorces must be horribly complicated!”

“To be honest, it's actually pretty easy to get divorced,” replied Drakkar with a shrug. “Most marriages in Fimbulvetr are engaged to make alliance between families, which means that they look forward to preserving their interests and the well-being of the couple. However, if things don't work, it's entirely possible for them to separate and try it again with different partners.”

“There must be something for a divorce to happen. I don't like to picture mares threatening divorce every time they don't feel they're being treated as they wanted,” commented Shining Armor as he looked at Cadance on the far end of the room through the corner of the eye.

“According to the law, at least one of three conditions must be met for the divorce to happen: if there was physical or psychological abuse of any kind, if they became too poor to support themselves without help from their family, or if a husband tries to take his wife out of the country against her will.” At Shining's relieved sigh, Drakkar burst into laughter, shaking his hoof. “There are more reasons that validate a divorce, but I'm sure you don't have to worry about those.”

“I'm a bit scared of asking,” admitted Shining Armor.

Drakkar turned to face his friend, then looked at Cadance for a moment before returning his attention to Shining Armor. To the Prince's surprise, his friend burst into loud laughter, earning the attention of several ponies that were close to them. It took a while for Drakkar to calm down, having to wipe a couple tears of joy.

“I don't get it,” said Shining Armor before turning to see Cadance, who was cheerfully talking to a few ponies and was too far away to have made any noticeable gesture. “What's so funny?”

“I'm... I'm sorry, Shining,” said Drakkar as he slowly recovered his breath. “But I just pictured you with your wife's dress.”

Shining Armor blinked in astound at his friend's confession, shaking his head at his words. “And you did that because...”

“Well, I've heard stories about couples who divorced because the other one dressed in the opposite gender's clothes.” Drakkar shrugged with a smile, leaning his left foreleg on the table as he spoke. “There have also been cases of divorce because the couple didn't sleep together for three years straight. If the witnesses attending the divorce are there and agree, you would be surprised at the reasons given by couples to separate.”

“What?!”

Drakkar wiped his tears of joy as he spoke. “But yeah, those are very rare cases.”

”Anyways,” said Shining Armor, clearing his throat politely, “you're concerned about not being able to pay the bride-price. Twelve ounces of silver sounds like it’s quite expensive, if you ask me.”

“I have a few Hríðir here.” Drakkar reached the bad hanging from his belt, taking a couple silver coins. They were slightly thinner and smaller than bits. “This is our currency. Equestrian ponies know them as blizzes.”

“Translation?” asked Shining with a cocked eyebrow.

“Hríðr means blizzard, but I guess they call them like that because it sounds much more like the original name,” replied Drakkar with a shrug.

“Do they have that name for a reason?” inquired Shining Armor with a smirk.

“Scandineighvia was the first town that recommended the neighboring cities to join forces against the Manegol threat,” explained Drakkar. “The Hrið clan has been jarlar of Scandineighvia for centuries, and we named our currency after them. When we became the kingdom of Fimbulvetr, the other cities took our coin as their own. It's not like it really matters,” added Drakkar with a shrug, “for bartering is quite common anyways.”

“That's actually quite interesting,” admitted Shining Armor as he nodded, smiling profusely. “So you could offer the equivalent of twelve ounces of silver.”

“It's still more than I have; and that's the bare minimum of what I need to marry her.”

“What you need to marry her is proposing, plan and simple,” corrected Shining Armor as he patted his friend's shoulder. “Cadance is a princess, and I was the Captain of the Royal Guard, and that didn't stop us from getting married.”

Despite his friend's efforts, Drakkar let out a long sigh. “That means that things are much simpler here.”

“Oh, come on, you work directly for the Jarl!” exclaimed Shining Armor with a frown.

“My family has no shortage of food and clothes, but we are far from what you'll consider wealthy,” said Drakkar with a shake of his head. “And Mjǫllna is the great-granddaughter of a war heroine in my homeland!”

“The good thing is that you won't be able to think about that in a while,” said Shining Armor as he waved at Cadance.

“Why do you say that?” asked Drakkar with a raised eyebrow.

A smile bloomed in Shining Armor's face. “You'll find out as soon as you turn around.”

At those words, Drakkar looked to his left, his eyes widening as both Celestia and Luna walked towards them. Resting the cup on the table, he got up and prostrated in front of them.

“Rise, Hófkarl,” ordered Luna, smiling as Drakkar got up to look at them. “We deeply apologize for what has happened.”

“I would understand that you might not be willing to stay here any longer,” continued Celestia with a nod. “We should move to the meeting hall to discuss the treaty.”

“What about Mjǫllna?” asked Drakkar as he turned to Shining Armor.

“The guards would be with her for a while before returning to their usual patrols,” he replied with a shake of his hoof, smiling broadly as Cadance got closer. “It was just to cool the mood down. You can't have ponies throwing punches at each other here, you know?” Shining Armor moved aside, pecking his wife's lips before pulling her to join the small group. “Drakkar, this is my wife, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.”

“Just Cadance,” she corrected with a broad smile. “You must be Drakkar, the one we will be discussing the treaty with.”

“We?” repeated Drakkar, blinking in astonishment.

“Oh course!” exclaimed Shining Armor. “Cadance and I rule the Crystal Empire, which is much closer to your lands. We might have something to ask for as well! Not to mention that it will be much cheaper for all of us if we can simply establish the Crystal Empire as the trade center, and then supply the goods across Equestria.”

“Thou hast to remember, though,” warned Luna with a severe tone, yet showing a comforting smile as she did, “that this shall not be the final word. We shall think of all the goods both kingdoms could export and import. Thou hast to bear in mind that, no matter what we discuss, thine rulers have the final word.” Luna rested her hoof on Drakkar's shoulder. “If they decide not to accept it, it shall not be thine fault.”

Drakkar slowly looked around him, his smile slowly becoming more prominent with each approving nod he received. “Alright then,” he said finally. “Let's go.”

-o-

In the gardens of Canterlot castle, Mjǫllna was sitting on one of the benches, surrounding by Twilight and her friends. The two unicorn guards had left a while ago, leaving the mares and the young dragon on their own once more.

“Mjǫllna, are you feeling better?” asked Rarity as he walked to sit next to her.

“I guess I'm better now,” she replied with a shrug. “I just had to do it.”

“Are you kidding?” asked Rainbow Dash with a fierce flap of her wings. “Of course you had to! I only wish I could've done it myself. I mean, I thought Drakkar would take care of him.”

“I knew he was concerned about making a good impression,” admitted Twilight, shaking her head while frowning. “But I didn't expect him to swallow his pride so many times.”

Mjǫllna let out a long sigh, tapping her hooves together as she spoke. “I hope the meeting doesn't last too long. I want to talk to him.”

“About what?” asked Applejack.

“I feared for him back here,” explained Mjǫllna with a sorrowful grimace. “It reminded me of my father Solar Beam. He didn't feel he was worthy as a father and left. For a moment, I saw him in Drakkar, and was terrified at the idea of losing him too.”

“Well, though I admit that was an interesting role reversal back there,” said Rainbow Dash with a smirk, “I think he won't leave like that. I’m sure whatever happens at that meeting will boost his morale.”

“You're looking forward to his proposal, aren't you?” asked Rarity, resting her hoof on Mjǫllna's shoulders.

To those words, Mjǫllna chuckle, tapping Rarity's hoof. “I'm looking forward to it, but that doesn't mean I'm going to wait until he does.”

“Don't tell me you're planning on proposing first!” cried Rarity in shock. “But that's not what a lady does! You have to-”

Mjǫllna's burst of laughter interrupted Rarity. “Rarity, I broke a stallion's jaw less than an hour ago; I think it's clear enough that I'm not that kind of lady. And I won't change no matter who asks me to; I’m a strong mare and I don’t hesitate when facing those who think otherwise.”

“So Ah reckon you're giving 'im a deadline?” asked Applejack, showing a wide smile as she spoke.

“If by the end of the Gala he hasn't proposed to me, I will!” assured Mjǫllna with a nod.

“I really hope everything goes well between you two,” said Fluttershy, who had kept silent for most of the conversation.

“Thanks, Fluttershy. And above all else, thanks for taking care of him all these days.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” replied Fluttershy, blushing lightly. “He helped me a lot at home during his stay.”

“Why don't we go inside?” asked Pinkie Pie, bouncing back a few steps. “The meeting should be over any minute now!”

“We've been about an hour here,” admitted Twilight, “but I don't think they'll be done until much later.”

“I could use a drink, though,” said Mjǫllna as she caressed her throat.

“Yeah, let's get in so we can toast for the soon-to-be couple!” Rainbow Dash threw his foreleg around Mjǫllna's neck.

“Rainbow Dash!” scolded Rarity, covering her mouth with a hoof.

“Hey, one way or another, it's going to happen! Come on!”

The whole group trotted their way inside the castle, marching towards the punch bowl. Rainbow Dash flew in front of them, picking eight cups and filling them, all of them ready by the time the others arrived. As each one got there, they took a cup each, Rainbow Dash raising hers when everypony had one.

“A toast to Mjǫllna!” she proclaimed loudly. “One of the most awesome mares I've met, for her upcoming marriage!”

“To Mjǫllna!” repeated her friends before chugging the sweet content of their cups.

“Thanks, girls,” said Mjǫllna, shaking her head while grinning broadly. “Let's see if Drakkar finishes already.”

The meeting hall's door opened with a creaking sound that made everypony's ears perk up.

“Wow, it worked! I didn't know you had Pinkie Sense as well!” cried Pinkie, getting closer to Mjǫllna. “Though I guess that it should be called Mjǫllna Sense in this case. What do you think?”

Celestia and Luna were the first ones to come out, followed closely by Shining Armor and Cadance. Behind them appeared Drakkar, sparkling eyes and a grin on his face. As the Princesses approached Twilight and her friends, the all bowed respectfully.

“How did everything go at the meeting, Princess?” asked Twilight.

“Fruitful,” replied Celestia with a nod. “Fimbulvetr is a kingdom from which we can learn a lot, and they can benefit from ours as well. There are a lot of possibilities that we've discussed, and we're expecting a positive response from the rulers.”

“I'll give this to Jarl Hríðvetr,” said Drakkar. “I'm sure I can convince him that this will be the dawn of a new and prosperous era for Fimbulvetr.”

“And now you have no reason not to do what you wanted,” added Shining Armor, gently pushing Drakkar towards Mjǫllna.

Both ponies looked at each other, smiling broadly as the did. Drakkar grabbed Mjǫllna's hoof, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Mjǫllna Eldstaðsdóttir”, he solemnly vowed. “Ek vil Þik vera merina er beri mér fyl ok hiti mér beð meðan lǫngum køldum vetunum. Ek mun reisi mér hóf gegn þeim er þori freisti valga Þik mein, ok mun geng úr skugga um er þú vitir af ekkeru. Ver mér víf; lát Freyja ǫfunda okkr ást!”

Everypony stared at each other with dumbfounded expressions, save for Celestia and Luna, who nodded with prominent smiles. Mjǫllna tightened the hold of Drakkar's hoof before speaking with the widest grin she'd ever shown.

“Mik gef til Þin, Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson,” replied Mjǫllna, making Drakkar grin widely as well. “Mun efni glaðliga mik skyldur sem konu, ok treysti er þú mun efnir þín sem eiginhesti. Ek mun ber þik sterk, frísk fyl, ok Þórsmáttr mun leiðbein mik hamar til hjalpa þau vernda.”

With those words, Mjǫllna jumped towards Drakkar, their lips connecting in a passionate kiss. Drakkar reacted quickly, taking a step back to keep his balance before lifting her. Mjǫllna moved away, but Drakkar rested his hoof behind her head and pulling her towards him to kiss her again. She replied by ardently tightening her hug, their tongues intertwining in the midst of their fervent love.

“I only got a 'would you like to marry me' from you,” said Cadance with a feigned mocking voice.

“Well, your 'I do' didn't inspire songs and legends either, sweetheart,” replied Shining Armor with fake jealousy.

Both ponies laughed at their own comments, followed by everypony else. Twilight levitated all the cups they have used, and another five more for the newcomers to fill them with punch. When they were all set, she offered one to each pony.

“Once again, and now that we're all here,” started Twilight, raising his cup while broadly smiling, “I'd like to toast to the... I think it was a wedding proposal, so I toast to the happy couple!”

“To Drakkar and Mjǫllna!” they cheered.

“Congratulations to you two,” said Shining Armor before finishing his drink. “You said you wanted to marry in Scandineighvia, didn't you?”

“That's right,” replied Drakkar with a nod. “We could have a ceremony here when we're back for you all, if that's okay with you.”

“I'm sure my family would love it!” said Mjǫllna.

“We've been thinking that, since we have to return to the Crystal Empire after this,” started Cadance, resting a hoof on her chest, “we could take you with us, so you don't have to walk all the way back to Scandineighvia.”

“I'd really appreciate it,” replied Drakkar with an approving nod. “But I think we should go see Mjǫllna's family before.”

“That won't be necessary, Drakkar,” said Mjǫllna, her hoof shaking in disagreement. “I talked to them before going to Rarity's, and they suspected that we were going to go to Fimbulvetr.”

“But what about the—” started Drakkar, only to get interrupted by Mjǫllna.

“They don't care about the bride-price,” she replied with a smile. “We're aware of your worries about it, but you must understand that there's something more important than that. I know you defend your traditions and laws, and that's laudable.” Mjǫllna rested her hoof on Drakkar's cheek, caressing him before speaking again. “But I don't want to waste the opportunity of a lifetime together for them.” Drakkar closed his eyes, leaning his head a bit, losing himself in Mjǫllna's tender touch as he gave an approving nodded. “Also,” she added, her hoof reaching the inner part of her apron-like overdress, pulling a small bag out of its pocket. “I crafted this for us.”

Drakkar, who was now missing Mjǫllna's caresses, looked down to see the bag, giving it a surprised look. When Mjǫllna offered it to him, Drakkar didn't hesitate and opened, his eyes widening at the sight of two silver rings, large enough to fit on a pony's upper leg. Upon close inspection, each bracelet had an ornament mounted on them. One of them had Drakkar's cutie mark, the fierce roaring bear head. The other one had Mjǫllna's, the hammer of Þórr with a bolt of lightning behind it.

“This is...” tried to say Drakkar, dazzled at the sight of the pieces of jewelry. “This is amazing! Mjǫllna, these are incredible!”

“Wow, Drakkar's cutie mark is really well made,” admitted Twilight. “How were you able to keep it as a surprise, though?”

“Yeah!” replied Rainbow Dash. “He had to be there when you were forging that thing.”

“I have a good memory,” said Mjǫllna, a brazen smile slowly blooming on her face. “Not to mention that he's not the only one of us who likes the sight of his special somepony's haunches,” she added with a chuckle that caused Drakkar to look away, a light blush illuminating his face. “We'll wear these leg rings after the ceremony, though.”

“I'm gonna miss you two,” said Rainbow Dash, patting Mjǫllna's back.

“We all will,” seconded Rarity.

“Y'all come to visit every now and then, right?” asked Applejack, tipping her hat as she spoke.

“I sure hope so,” said Drakkar. “But that doesn't depend on me. Though I must admit that I've grown attached to Ponyville.” He slowly looked at everypony around him, all of them now familiar faces that had become friends during his stay. “I'm going to miss you all.”

“Think of this,” interjected Celestia. “You are the pony who has opened the door to a possible alliance, and are the most knowledgeable pony in Fimbulvetr concerning Equestria. If they agree on accepting, you are by far the best choice to keep here, if only to make sure that the interests of both nations are protected.”

“It's a possibility,” admitted Drakkar with a nod.

“Let's enjoy the party a while longer before returning to the Crystal Empire!” cried Shining Armor. “To the dawn of a new era, where Equestrians and Fimbulvetrians will work together and prosper!”

“To the alliance!” cried the rest of ponies, the clashing of cups overcoming their laughter and cheers.

Author's Notes:

As usual, translation time.

"Þín fegurð gjøri sunnu óþarfri, því at þín kjólinn ok brosit foera ljós í þessu rúmi": "Your beauty makes the Sun unnecessary, for your dress and smile bring light to this room."

“Þegið!”: "Be quiet!"

Jarn ber gegn jarni./ Óróliga venjum/ at eta með Æsum. /þetta er norrohests fjǫr!” = "Iron fights against iron./ We train restlessly/ to eat with the Æsir./ This is the live of a Norse Pony! "

The translations of both ponies' wedding proposals in order or appearance.

“Mjollna Eldstaðsdóttir,” he solemnly vowed, “I want you to be the mare who'll bear my foals and warm my bed during the long, cold winters. I shall raise my hoof against those who dare try to cause you harm, and will make sure that you want for nothing. Be my wife, and let Freyja envy our love!”

“To you I give myself, Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson,” replied Mjǫllna, making Drakkar grin widely as well. “I will gladly fulfill my duties as a wife, and trust that you will fulfill yours as a husband. I will bear your strong, healthy foals, and Þórr's might shall guide my hammer to help me protect them.”

Ast ok drengskapr binda okkr (fyrst halfr)

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.”

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 Notes:

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.