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Gleaming with joy, her head resting on one olive-skinned hand, Fjǫrleif blissfully and tenderly stroked Alys' naked glowing body with the other. Slowly, lovingly and lazily Fjǫrleif's index finger followed Alys' feminine curves, moving in between the drops of sweat on Alys' pale belly - like a longship navigating an archipelago. Fjǫrleif was so in love with Alys; everything about her was beautiful: her mind, her body, her soul. Finally it has happened to me, she thought. My soulmate has come into my life, and she's here to stay. She is so wonderful that no mortal language has the words to describe this great love of mine.

Her Imperial and Royal Highness and the Lady Alys were lying in the enormous bed that dominates Fjǫrleif's bedchamber, basking in the afterglow of their ferocious love-making: totally exhausted but profoundly satisfied. Fjǫrleif's bedchamber was dark and humid; the two Ladies' overheated bodies had raised the temperature in there to that of a Hitihús steam room, and the smell of sex hung thick in the air like a morning Norman bog fog.

If one would have had the privilege of watching Fjǫrleif and Alys make love, you would have been knocked off your feet. Two gorgeous women intertwined with each other, coupling the night away, huffing and puffing more than the big bad wolf. They were totally lost in each other; their hands, tongues, lips and limbs were everywhere - flailing and twisting in the throes of passion. To this very day, this night was one of the hottest and wildest each of them had ever had! And now the both of them were lying contently and peaceably in Fjǫrleif's gargantuan bed: a captivating and endearing sight.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Things had, however, not exactly started out peacefully that night. When Fjǫrleif returned home to her chambers in the Salle des Seins de Björka of Château de Vathune, Alys was violently fuming. She had come across a copy of the Law of Ettlingar Freyu, which she had read carefully. To her tremendous dismay, she learned from the First Clause of Article Eins of the Femte Kapittel of the Law of Ettlingar Freyu that Fjǫrleif could not marry her. Alys felt betrayed and flew in a rage. It appeared to her that Fjǫrleif had no intention of marrying her, but was just using her as a living sex doll for gratification and when she had grown bored of her, Fjǫrleif would simply throw her away as a used tampon. 

Immediately the situation turned very ugly. Alys stormed towards Fjǫrleif, nearly catching the latter by surprise. Fjǫrleif was incredulous. What on Reikistjarna had gotten into Alys?! Fjǫrleif's betrothed was in a blind rage and viciously attacked Her Imperial and Royal Highness. Innumerable punches and strikes came Fjǫrleif's way, which Fjǫrleif - who is one of the best fighters of Reikistjarna - graciously and seemingly effortlessly blocked. 

To a lesser individual than Fjǫrleif, Alys' rage would have been terrifying to behold. Her Imperial and Royal Highness actually found it arousing and endearing. She also saw that it had not gone unnoticed by Alys that Fjǫrleif's body was starting to show the signs of erotic excitement, which was something that enraged Alys even much and more. Her face darkened. Brusquely Alys turned away from Fjǫrleif and grabbed a Valtian Steel dagger from a nearby dresser. With a creepy and bloodlusty grin on her face she excruciatingly slow walked up to Fjǫrleif, brandishing the dagger. Alys' eyes, however, were the most terrible thing of this perilous situation. They were firmly locked onto Fjǫrleif, and those eyes of hers burned with hatred.

It dawned upon Fjǫrleif that Alys was so incensed now that she was about to kill her, regardless of the consequences, and that it was imperative to end this situation before there would be blood. A few instances later Alys had come within striking distance, firmly clutching the dagger. Then she lashed out at Fjǫrleif...

In the blink of an eye Fjǫrleif disarmed Alys, kicking away the dagger that Alys had dropped onto the floor. She then grabbed Alys and held her tight, keeping Alys' arms firmly locked along Alys' body, so that the latter would not be able to use them. Alys writhed and squirmed, twisted and turned, adamantely trying escape from Fjǫrleif's grip. All in vain, however, because Fjǫrleif, who rivalled Marley the Rastaviking in strength, was way too strong for Alys. She could snap my spine like a twig should she want to, Alys realized in horror. To her credit Alys kept on fighting though, and Fjǫrleif greatly admired her fighting spirit.

Alys spewed rivers of profanity and insults towards Fjǫrleif - in a way that could teach a furious drunken sailor a thing or two - shouting things so nasty that it would make a crow blush. When Fjǫrleif had a bellyful of it, however, she slapped Alys really hard in the face, which shocked the latter into silence. Fjǫrleif then coerced Alys into telling her what in Niflheimr had gotten into her, engaging in such hostile and potentially leathal behaviour.

Bursting into tears, Alys sobbingly told Fjǫrleif in fits and starts what she had read in the Law of Ettlingar Freyu and that because of the fact she was not of Royal or Imperial rank Fjǫrleif could not marry her. The thought that Fjǫrleif was not really intent on marrying her but just had been using her as a disposable plaything - probably telling all kind of contemptuous tales about her to friends and family in the process - had been playing on her mind and dancing on her soul ever since. Alys was horrified to end up as damaged goods; a soiled, destitute stranger in a strange land. She might even be deported back to The Green. It had caused her to snap.

A sad smile appeared on Fjǫrleif's face. Looking Alys deep into her gorgeous blue eyes, Fjǫrleif warmly and lovingly admonished her for jumping to conclusions without sufficient knowledge about the vast body that Storish Law is, especially the powers of the Imperial Longships Throne; she also advised Alys to do some stiff reading up on Storish culture. Alys nodded in the purest of embarrassment. Fjǫrleif then swore to Alys the holiest of vows that a Vanakvinna could make, solemnly promising that she would take her to wife, and subsequently let go of Alys. And then there was only silence - albeit erotically charged - between the two of them...

Silently the two gorgeous Ladies just stood there - transfixed with delight, greedily oggling each other. Then their hungry mouths found each other. They kissed for what seemed an eternity: a passionate game of locked lips and swirling, twirling and teasing tongues. Erotic tension, however, was actually building up inside the both of them so rapidly and to such unprecedented heights that this sensuous and pleasurable semi-stand-off came to a quick and explosive end. Fjǫrleif and Alys erupted like Humlebækker volcanoes. Frantically they undressed each other, literally ripping off each other's clothes. Hand in hand the two of them sped to Fjǫrleif's bedchamber, where they dived onto the gargantuan bed and immediately, and ferociously, engaged in the love embrace - hitting it all night long, devouring each other like starving predators.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Fjǫrleif?" Alys awkwardly asked.

"Yes, honey?" Fjǫrleif sultrily replied. What should you like of me? Is there something amiss? Do mine carresses not please you? Was mine sweet loving insufficient to satisfy your lusts?"

"Oh, Fjǫrleif, I very much enjoy you pleasuring me, giving me more climaxes in a single night than I had in the whole of my life multiple times over." Alys purred.

"That was not too hard, honey. It's clear that your husband was just a clueless dud in the sack. I’m so very sorry for the years that you have wasted because of him being utterly unschooled in the other ways of providing for a lady's needs. To have four children with him and still have a love life which was as dead as a lichyard. It boggles the mind," Fjǫrleif said, sounding quite smug.

"Fjǫrleif!" Alys snapped. "Don't speak about Hagred like that! It wounds my heart! He was not as well-versed in the art of love like you, but he was my husband after all, and a very loving one too, and I loved him dearly."

"Pardons much, Alys," Fjǫrleif said. "I meant no slight."

"I know," Alys said, slipping back into a more demure demeanor. 

"So what's up, darling?  What should you like of me?" Fjǫrleif lovingly queried.

Anxiously Alys cleared her throat.

"Please Alys! Tell me what you have got on your chest, aside, of course, from those big boobs of yours," Fjǫrleif quipped, causing Alys to burst into uproarious, musical laughter.

"I would to apologize to you, Fjǫrleif," Alys said in a small voice, when her laughing had subsided.

"Apologize?! For what?!" Fjǫrleif exclaimed, incredulously.

"For my behaviour towards you, earlier this evening", Alys continued, quite surprised by Fjǫrleif's response. 

"Oh that!" Fjǫrleif lightly said. "To me that little incident is just a tiny blip on the screen on which our long and happy life together is broadcast, and water under the bridge now. I furthermore understand that there were matters that caused with you the view - albeit quite misguided, but caused by lack of knowledge of Storish Law, ways and manners - that you were betrayed by me."

"You mean that?"

Fjǫrleif nodded. "I actually appreciated your antics."

"Really?"

"Sure! I do like a spunky wench. And from time to time I do like it rough," Fjǫrleif said with a big fat wink.

And again Alys burst into uproarious, musical laughter.

"I still cannot believe that you are going to marry me..." Alys said when her laughing had ceased. 

Slithering like a snake, Fjǫrleif slid onto Alys' body, rolled Alys on top of her, and then cupped Alys face. Slowly Alys mouth went to Fjǫrleif's. Their lips met, barely brushing, as they started to kiss. Just the touch of Alys' beautiful lips on hers was enough to drive Fjǫrleif wild. With her tongue Her Imperial and Royal Highness parted Alys' full lips, slid her eager tongue into Alys mouth, and tasted the mint on her breath. First gently, then hungrily their lips tasted each other. Their bodies, pressed tightly, were melting together as their tongues entwined. Fjǫrleif's and Alys' passion for each other was taking over, consuming them so that all they knew was their lily on olive heat.

Fjǫrleif was a mistress of the art of kissing and a sorceress of the tongue. Wantonly her tongue danced and darted around in Alys' mouth, teasing and pleasing her wherever she could. Every single loving stroke of Fjǫrleif's tongue was met by Alys with a warm, wet and sensuous tongue move of her own.

Breaking off their kiss to catch her breath, Fjǫrleif looked Alys deep into her eyes. "You silly, silly girl of mine," Fjǫrleif affectionately said to Alys. "You still would not believe that I married you if the both of us were in the Court of the Realm going through divorce proceedings to dissolve our marriage," she went on, sarcastically dry. 

"But the Law of Ettlingar Freyu states that..."

"No worries, sweetling," Fjǫrleif assuringly interrupted Alys, "there is nothing that the Lady Imperial Regent cannot fix with a stroke of the pen. In your case it actually is a piece of cake because your family, the Geloyras, have in the days of yore enjoyed royal status, but lost it somewhere along the way. Your family was also known to the House of Ettlingar Freyu in the First Viking Age. An ancestor of yours, Mitalar Geloyra, is mentioned in various annals and chronicles from the Days of Valtia, such as Falconesses in Flight, Annals of Falkurhǫll and History of the Valtians. He rode into battle with the Storjarla Björka Hnossdóttir and she later invested him with a King's Sword as a reward for his tremendous valor and outstanding leadership, conferring the status of a king upon him. As a King, Mitalar amassed great wealth, owning vast tracts of land and numerous halls and farms."

"I was aware of this part of my family's history and lore, but will it help with getting the consent of the Lady Imperial Regent?" Alys said, sounding dumbfounded.

"Very much so!" Fjǫrleif beamed. "It virtually is your passport into the House of Ettlingar Freyu. Aside from that has the Krónjarla Aoife grown tremendously fond of you and she cannot wait to officially admit you to the ranks of the House of the Descendants of Freyja. She has already ordered the Imperial Scribery to draw the necessary documents. Believe me, honey, you will be a Falconess before you know it!"

"Really?"

"Surely you will, darling! You are also quite beloved already among the Storish population, with your popularity rivalling that of mine late sister-in-law, the Kaiseress Noor of Shireroth. This popularity of yours is caused by the dignified way you, just like the Froyalanish People, carried the burden of suffering that life inflicted upon you. There also is your marvellous character and the fact that you are a stunningly beautiful Rauðihár."

"A Rauðihár?" Alys asked, confusedly.

"A redhead," Fjǫrleif cheerfully explained. "Redheads are revered by the Vanafolk since red hair has traditionally been seen as a sign of descent from high-ranking ancestors as well as a mark of rulership and Priesthood. Vanafolkers also consider red hair to be a blessing from the Gods and Goddesses as well as attractive beyond belief."

"Oooh!" Alys said, astonished but pleased.

"The two of us will be married here at Château de Vathune. Our wedding ceremony will be presided over by my niece, the Storjarla Esther the Younger of Normandie. As you may already be aware of, mine niece is an Imperial Chieftainess as well as a Vanic Priestess - and a pretty senior one too to boot, being the High Priestess of the Golden Sheathe. So the Lady Esther has the authority to join the two of us in holy matrimony in either a Vanic ceremony or a secular one. The choice is up to you, honey!"

"I... I... I... will sleep on it," Alys stammered.

"Sure, o sweetling of mine, but be quick with your decision, because I cannot wait to tie the knot with you!" Fjǫrleif said, sporting a smile from ear to ear.

The two spouses-to-be then kissed passionately, with their lips and tongues feasting on each other for minutes.

"And then it's time for big bellies!" Fjǫrleif beamingly exclaimed.

Alys blushed profoundly. "How are we going to bring that about?"

Fjǫrleif smiled. Alys' unworldliness concerning matters like these was so adorable and endearing. "I want our children to be genetically as close to the two of us as possible. You will therefore be impregnated by my father's seed."

"You want me to...!!!" Alys gasped, totally aghast.

"No, you silly girl!" Fjǫrleif affectionately interrupted Alys, "I'm talking about a medical procedure called artificial insemination. That is the way the both of us will get pregnant."

"Ah, I see," Alys said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"No worries," Fjǫrleif went on, "outside The Green it nowadays is a routine medical procedure. An example of this is my late sister-in-law, the Kaiseress Noor of Shireroth. She had the first four of her four children - quadruplets born in the year 1630 AN, all of them boys - this way. Moreover, semen donated by my father has been cryogenically preserved in liquid nitrogen tanks in a medical facility deep in the bowels of the Vanadísarhall for this purpose for several Norton decades already; ever since it became apparent that I am bi-sexual to be exact. Foresight is the essence of dynasticism, since rulers need heirs."

"And what about you?" Alys curiously queried.

"I'm going to be knocked up by your brother's love cream," Fjǫrleif replied, wickedly grinning.

Alys' eyes became as large as saucers. "Ellisar?!? That cannot be!" Alys cried out, completely astounded. "He..."

"... vanished without a trace when you were a little girl," Fjǫrleif calmly completed Alys' phrase. "It is perfectly understandable and quite obvious that your long lost brother, Ellisar Geloyra, had to do a runner after various failed dubious financial dealings made in a desperate attempt to improve the financial situation of the Milkhouse, screwing over the organized crime syndicate called the Crystal Tears Clan in the process. With the resources at the disposal of the Informationsbyrån, Stormark's secret intelligence agency, however, which was acting in conjunction with the Corps de Renseignement of the Fleur de Lys-Longships Guard, it was not too hard to track him down. 

"Where is Ellisar now?" Alys anxiously asked.,

"After extensive wanderings throughout The Green and other parts of Reikistjarna, he has become a monk, and is presently residing in a monastary of the Brothers of Reclusion on Old Gaol Isle called Noirmoutier," Fjǫrleif replied.

"Is he safe there?"

"Old Gaol Isle is a place that makes a hard man humble and causes tough guys to tumble. Therefore, even the Crystal Tears Clan and their heinous henchmen avoid the Prison Jarldom like the plague. In other words: your brother is safe there,. I daresay that is in one of the safest place on Reikistjarna."

"How did you get him to...?" 

"Make a donation? That was easy enough. It just took some small talk and some big bucks (naturally paid in Ríkskróna) as well as some other perks to clear away all obstacles and barriers. Noirmoutier's balance books have just gotten quite a boost, and your brother will rise through the ranks of the Brothers of Reclusion a bit," Fjǫrleif grinned.

"May I visit him?" Alys queried with sparkling eyes.

"Sure!" Fjǫrleif resolutely said.

"Alys got a dreamy look in her eyes. "I will visit Ellisar when I'm expecting, wearing fine maternity clothes."

"Old Gaol Isle is definitely a place where one needs to wear garments nigh all the time, because of the terrible climate there. However, best for you finding your way in the circles in which we will move, as well as society at large, it will be that you from now on will only don clothes for protection, sanitation, adornment, identification, comfort and ostentation. Do you understand?" Fjǫrleif said in a motherly, loving explanatory way.

Alys nodded enthusiastically. "I will become more Vanic than the Vanafolk itself," she beamed. 

"And if I catch you one more time in mine chambers again in the type of cheap redundant gown that you were wearing when I came home this evening, you will be yelled at," Fjǫrleif said with a big fat wink, causing the both of them burst into the merriest of laughter. The spouses-to-be then kissed and kissed and kissed, until their making out escalated into full-blown ferocious love-making.

Little sleeping was done in Fjǫrleif's bedchamber that night...

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19 hours ago, Fjǫrleif said:

"No worries, sweetling," Fjǫrleif assuringly interrupted Alys, "there is nothing that the Lady Imperial Regent cannot fix with a stroke of the pen. In your case it actually is a piece of cake because your family, the Geloyras, have in the days of yore enjoyed royal status, but lost it somewhere along the way. [...]"

That is indeed the way it is!

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  • 1 month later...
On 9/3/2019 at 2:15 PM, Princess Esther said:

Where shall the baby-welcoming ceremonies of your future nurslings be held?

Sweet Lady Niece of Mine,

I should like to supercalifragilisticexpialidociously adhere to the tradition that the baby-welcoming of a child born to a member of the Imperial Branch of the House of Ettlingar Freyu is a take place in a Fulltrui Temple in the Jarldom where such baby was born.

As it is mine wish to give birth to mine little one(s) in the Merchant Jarldom, at Kaupmaðrhǫll to be precise, I must need to, since there are no Fulltrui Temples in the Jarldom of Eidsivarike, divert to the nearest Jarldom where such a senior Temple of the Ancient Ways is available. Very fortunately for me there is plenty of choice in Fulltrui Temples in the neighbouring Imperial Jarldom of Gularike, to wit: the Althingi Hall, the Apple Temple, the Golden Basket, the Golden Hearth, the Temple of Love, the Temple of Motherhood and the Temple of Youth.

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22 hours ago, Princess Esther said:

Which of those Fulltrui Temples would be the site of preference of yours for the baby-welcoming of your future little ones?

Sweet Lady Niece of Mine,

I should have to advise you that presently there is no such site of preference of mine yet.

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Lady Aoife, 

It is a supercalifragilisticexpialidociously tempting thought to have the baby-welcoming of mine future nurslings in the Althingi Hall. :loveit:

Should mine Lady Grandaunt, the Storjarla Ærinndís, be willing to dance skyclad during that event, there is no more certain a way to get me and Alys on board regarding aforementioned notion. :thumbsup:

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  • 2 weeks later...
On 9/23/2019 at 7:08 AM, Ærinndís said:

Of course I will be willing!! 

Sweetling Grandaunt of Mine,

I'm supercalifragilisticexpialidociously glad to hear that! :party:

By the way, is your bedwarmer, Rí Aogán Ó Corragáin of Clan Mide, to date still serving you well?

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  • 2 weeks later...
On 9/23/2019 at 7:08 AM, Ærinndís said:

Of course I will be willing!! 

 

On 10/5/2019 at 4:22 PM, Fjǫrleif said:

Sweetling Grandaunt of Mine,

I'm supercalifragilisticexpialidociously glad to hear that! :party:

By the way, is your bedwarmer, Rí Aogán Ó Corragáin of Clan Mide, to date still serving you well?

All of me supercalifragilisticexpialidociously hopes so! 

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Ladies Aoife and Fjǫrleif,

He has been serving me quite well. The only thing lacking is of course the emotional connection. But physically, a lady is happy. Girls just wanna have fun!

Once I have settled on a future husband, I will be even happier.

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  • 2 weeks later...
On 10/17/2019 at 7:09 PM, Ærinndís said:

Ladies Aoife and Fjǫrleif,

He has been serving me quite well. The only thing lacking is of course the emotional connection. But physically, a lady is happy. Girls just wanna have fun!

I'm exuberantly content to learn that, Sweetling Grandaunt of Mine!

On 10/17/2019 at 7:09 PM, Ærinndís said:

Once I have settled on a future husband, I will be even happier.

What should you like his age to be?

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  • 2 weeks later...
On 10/17/2019 at 7:09 PM, Ærinndís said:

Ladies Aoife and Fjǫrleif,

He has been serving me quite well. The only thing lacking is of course the emotional connection. But physically, a lady is happy. Girls just wanna have fun!

Once I have settled on a future husband, I will be even happier.

 

On 10/29/2019 at 1:07 PM, Fjǫrleif said:

I'm exuberantly content to learn that, Sweetling Grandaunt of Mine!

What should you like his age to be?

Fetch the  Lady Ærinndís a young virile stud! ;)

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