Permafrost Hollows hunger is the beginning of every folk tale

Once he'd departed Trigeda, weeks ago, with his younger brother, he hadn't exactly expected the turn of events to follow. He'd stumbled on the Fos Goufa by chance, and then his Heda. A large of his future had been unknown but acclimating to the new life in he mountain has been, to say the least, strange. The last thing he expected, however, was to become a father of the first set of children in Drageda. He didn't have his own, prior to the destruction of Seageda, nor a woman of his own. And here, expected to perform for his new queen (which is still quite a new concept, that part of him resists) with the approval of their Heda.

He doesn't know the other males in the pack. He's seen them in passing, but perhaps they are not the standard Thuringwethil had been looking for in order to allow the first royal children in their home.

All these questions he had, he couldn't answer. He could already tell the change with the wind once he'd gone close enough to @Gyda's cave. He'd been around females before in their heat, but unable to copulate, and while he is expected to, he gave the woman her space. When she is ready, she would find him, and he wouldn't search for her until then. In order to keep his distance, however, he slips from the territory quietly but not without marking his trail first. Gavriel would make it easy for the woman to find him. With a little nerves coursing him, he puts his nose to the ground. The day is still early, and quiet, but he enjoys it, and so patiently he waits, lingering around the bordering territory of his home.

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.

The scent he tried to get away from quickly envelopes him. His nose wrinkles, and he wonders about the strange gust of wind—noting the female in the area before she speaks—and he began a few more steps away, suddenly unsure of himself. He’d been approached for it, and Thuringwethil’s conditions had been met from his understanding, but uneasiness settled in his stomach. He doubted he would be asked to sire children in his former home, but Drageda was unlike any other branch. A new empire, a new home, he had to remind himself.

When she speaks, his steps halt and he turns around to see her. His feet remain planted, despite the scent luring him in, but he tries to think of something else if only to keep himself from mounting her right then and there. His ears shift back against his skull and he finds somewhere else to focus on as he regains his thoughts. 

He tries to smile, forcing something awkward onto his features when he wills himself to finally move. The closer he gets, the more her scent fills his brain and it becomes easier to let his body take over, to fight for his purpose here—it was rooted deep in his instinct and while warriors of Seageda had trained themselves in control, somethings were hard to rewire when they were built so deep within. 

Gavriel’s tail wags a few times and he dips his nose, putting it beneath her chin and licking the soft fur there before he moves and trails her scent along her body. He keeps all four feet on the ground, letting her take the lead as she saw fit.

Gyda was patient and though her paws itched to carry her closer to her chosen lover she resisted. Whatever awkwardness she might have been feeling prior to her heat it was gone now. She was led by instincts far much older than her, driven by her desire for children. In many ways, Gyda realized she was romanticizing the whole thing — that he would not only be giving her the chance to be a mother as she'd wanted for many months now with a fierceness she couldn't place, but also the future of Sleeping Dragon. Both warranted affection towards him from the Viking Queen, endearing him to her in a way that would not be possible any other way. Perhaps, in some ways, it wasn't fair to Gavriel, to ask him to sire her children but not take him as her mate; but the future was full of unknowns and Gyda was finding it hard to focus upon anything that wasn't the present.

A soft mewling whine left the shield-maiden when she felt his nose brush against the underside of her chin, and the few licks he left against the silver fur there. Her weight shifted, betraying her need and, as surprising as it was to her, her want. She desired him, as she'd desired no man before and though she wasn't quite sure what to do with the knowledge she decided that her best course of action was to let her body take control of her and stop over thinking it all.

He trailed along her body, and her body shivered as the brush of his body against hers lit her nerves on fire beneath her skin. She was woefully inexperienced in this area, and wondered if he was as well but couldn't find the words to ask him — which was probably for the better because literally the last thing she wanted to do was speak at that moment. She glimpsed over her shoulder at him, giving him a heavy-lidded look before she moved her tail to the side, giving him permission to proceed.

If you want to fade to black this portion in your post, and move to the end, we can? idk *awkwards about*

He tries to pretend he knows Gyda. Knows her well enough that this is the right thing, that they would be able to raise a litter of children together, that he would be a father with a woman he cares for. That Gyda isn’t his queen, hadn’t asked him to perform with stipulations, that she would carry children that—even if she assured him otherwise—aren’t necessarily his. They belong to the dragon, to Gyda, to Thuringwethil (had she even told her queen they were related?), and while they would be in part his own, it isn’t the same.  It isn’t what he’d been raised to expect, what Ecca or Titan had shared, but the last few months had been a whirlwind and nothing was… normal.

Gyda mewled and his ears perk upon his head, leaning into her body. He nips her hip, gently, before he moves and feels the overwhelming scent coming from her body. Tension fills him and his movements are rigid, unexpected, and he knows what he’s supposed to do. It’s another job, he supposes, but the outcome had different consequences he’d have to face. She invites him and, nevertheless, whether from duty of instinct, he tastes what she leaves behind before he picks himself up and uses her as support to guide himself into position. 

Gavriel’s movements are slow, gentle—at least for now—while the anticipation down in his groin threatens to take over. Eventually, he’ll allow it, but in the meantime he attempts to give her a chance to change her mind before it’s too late to turn back.

The Viking Queen responded to his nips, responded to his advances in a way she had never thought she would respond to one of the opposite gender, but this was a basis instinct well out of her control and she knew that it was the only way she could be a mother. Besides, there was nothing repulsive about Gavriel. He was stalwart, handsome: a fitting choice to be the father of her children despite that she could not claim that she knew him well at all. She didn't; but she trusted him, and she had chosen him and in Gyda's mind that was all that she needed. Gyda's weight shifted to accommodate his own weight as he rose to grasp at her. Her mind did not change, would not change. This was what she wanted — and he was her desired partner for it. Thus, Gyda stayed, shifting her weight subtly a few more times in an attempt to adjust to the strange, albeit not unpleasant, feeling of intimacy shared between them.

fade to black; also sorry for this poop post - i'm not quite awake yet but wanted to catch up on threads, lmao. :0 feel free to archive as is, if you want mica! <3