Permafrost Hollows hunger is the beginning of every folk tale

Whatever part of Gyda that had feared that she might never enter the season, that she might, somehow be broken was eased away by the scent that stirred her out of her slumber. For a moment, her breath caught in her throat because she had smelled another was in her cycle and had been consumed with the slow burning jealousy that she would not be the first to bear Sleeping Dragon children as was her right as it's Viking Queen. She had selected Gavriel from the pool of eligible wolves, strategic in that would she have had interest in any man he would be the kind she would go for: large, broad and strong (because apparently Gyda was shallow?) but also he fulfilled Thuringwethil's conditions: he was of Drageda but also of Seageda blood. In Gyda's mind that was like going above and beyond what Thuringwethil had set.

Yet the shield-maiden did not seek him out immediately. She had given it a few days before the yearning to give into what her body wanted began to drive her to what felt like some sort of burning insanity. She wanted to jump out of her skin, and she knew the longer she waited the higher the threat that another male might approach her. She had made her choice and she intended to let no other have her. So, the valkyrie sought him, finding and following his trail out of Sleeping Dragon. Gyda found that she wasn't sure if his absence infuriated her in the fever of the season or if she appreciated it, though she did not give herself long to ponder it. She was close to him, her flared nostrils told her and soon she caught sight of him in the distance. Her steps did not pause as she closed the distance between them with sultry purpose, but she felt a small flutter in her chest. Perhaps it was nerves, perhaps, even, it was desire: an instinctual knowledge that not only would he give her what she wanted very most in the world but that he could sate the restlessness and the indescribable glutton she felt. Or perhaps she was going mad — she wasn't quite sure.

She was unsure how it all worked: it wasn't as if she'd stuck around long enough to hear the “birds & bees” talk with Thistle or Ragnar (which would have been extremely awkward considering) and Nerian hadn't been a very viable source of information though this was mostly with Ragnar's second wife's unwillingness to talk about such things. Yet, her body seemed to know what to do without her over thinking it all. “Gavriel,” She beckoned him in a soft purl. “It is time.” Though she very much doubted he need verbal confirmation to this. She could smell the saccharine scent her body was emitting and knew that it would attract attention — though she intended to let no other any where near her. Her sacrifices to Frigga and Freyja had been made: gifts in the favor of asking for fertility and thus far it would seem as if her prayers had been answered. She was far from done offering them gifts: to ensure that it would take and that their children would be strong and healthy and live full and generous lives. Gyda had much work set out before her but for tonight her focus was on the most important thing: conceiving Drageda's royalty and it's future.

i have no idea what this post even is. i wrote you a novel full of useless fluff? xD oops, lmao.