Ægir's Wife

Kirsty sat at the table; Anna was nursing contentedly in her arms while Elsa rolled about the floor. The girls were trying to crawl but had not quite gotten the hang of it yet. She was not sure that they were ready for that, any of them.

The past few months had been filled with struggles, as life always was. They had gone through five fishermen, none of whom seemed as reliable as they wanted. Olaf had been called upon more than once to fill in gaps, but that would not be possible after today.

Kirsty smiled, a wedding. Today was Petrine's and Olaf's wedding. It was why she was up so early. She could not sleep. So, when the girls had woken for their six a.m. feed, she had brought them downstairs rather than disturb their fathers.

Last night, she had been blessed to entertain Bjorn in her bed. Tonight would be Mikael's turn. Sven would take up his usual residence the next night as his brothers returned to sea after the festivities. Hopefully, with a full crew.

It worried her. Now she understood the importance of this being a family business. Without that bond of kinship, it was proving incredibly difficult to find and retain competent, reliable workers, which was especially troublesome since even with a full crew, they had more orders from the high-end restaurants than they could fill.

They needed another boat. The problem, as Sven had taught her, was not in buying another vessel, that was relatively easy. But the permit that they would need for it might be even more expensive than the ship.

She still did not completely understand the whole system; thankfully, they had Sven for that. Theirs was not the only family that had relied upon fishing for hundreds of years. It was the primary industry in the Loften Islands, besides the newly emerging tourism that was.

Norway had been the first country in the world to recognize that sustainability was an issue, establishing a Ministry of Fisheries in 1946. It worked closely with its neighbors, the European Union, and the international community to regulate the quantity and quality of fish that were harvested each year, primarily through the licensing and permitting process.

Their problem was that new permits were not available. One way that their government had attempted to be equitable was by issuing licenses to all existing fishermen from the beginning. But since that time, no new ones were offered.

This meant that the only way to acquire the necessary permit for a second vessel was to purchase an existing one from someone who was succumbing to the vagarities of the market and giving up their way of life. The problem with that was they would be competing with big fisheries for one.

It was ironic perhaps that their very success could be as much a threat to their way of life as the seas always had been. She was trying to get her head around the whole issue but not even Mikael or Bjorn understood it fully. They were lucky to have Sven who had been as vital to monitoring the situation as he was with their girls.

While she would have never wished any of this upon him, Kirsty was, sort of, relieved that she would not be left alone on the Homdling for long periods as Petrine had once been. Especially now that Olaf and Petrine were embarking on their new, old adventure. She was happy for them, even if she would miss her mother-in-law incredibly.

As if she has conjured the woman up magically, Petrine opened the front door, crossing to the kitchen and starting the kettle. "A cuppa?"

Kirsty chuckled at the woman's use of the British term. "No, thanks. As soon as this little one finishes her breakfast, I should begin ours. I left Bjorn sleeping. He could use the rest," she tried to keep the concern from her voice. They did not want any of this delaying Petrine and Olaf. They deserved this and more.

Petrine smiled as she poured the water in her cup. She bent and laughed with Elsa as she pushed a toy just out of her reach, encouraging her to practice crawling, or attempt to. Then she came to sit at the table with Kirsty and Anna.

Raising the steaming cup of coffee to her lips, she sipped before saying, "I have something for you." She reached into the pocket of her robe, pulled out a tablet, and laid it on the table.

Kirsty shook her head as she broke Anna's seal on her nipple. Being breastfed the girls had long since outgrown the need to be burped, she laid her daughter on her tummy near her sister. Returning to her seat, she picked up the gift. "You shouldn't have. This is your day. You're the one who is supposed to receive gifts."

Petrine shook her head. "The tablet is not your present. Open it. Go to the library."

Kirsty frowned as she followed her mother-in-law's orders. Her eyes widened when she saw the only item on the new device. "How? It isn't out for weeks yet. How could you possibly have gotten ahold of the new Raquel Graffen novel?"

The woman threw back her head with a chuckle, "Read the dedication."

She was puzzled. As her eyes skimmed the electronic page, her mouth fell open.

"To my beloved daughter-in-law, K. You are all I ever dreamt of, a heroine worthy of the mightiest heroes. Sorry, I could only offer you my sons. Good men, but flawed. Thank you for loving them anyway. And for my granddaughters. May they grew up to be shieldmaidens as strong and wise as their mother. Goddess bless, R."

She re-read the passage twice, her mind trying to reconcile those words. "You're Raquel Graffen?"

Petrine chuckled, "I'm surprised that you never figured it out. As much time as I spend on my laptop in the greenhouse."

She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "But how? Why?"

Petrine shrugged and got that far off look that Kirsty knew meant the woman was lost in her memories, good and bad. "It got lonely. Especially when Bjorn joined the others."

"But I thought that was why you taught, and the sea wife thingy, too? And quilting? The flowers? How do you ever find the time?"

"Luckily, you'll have Sven with you to keep you company. But you have no idea how long the days can be, how lonely," those green eyes glistened with tears as she brought the cup to her lips once more.

"Like I said when Bjorn went to sea with the others, I had more hours in the day than I knew what to do with. I had always loved reading my Harlequins since I was a teen. Back then, though, it was one hero and one heroine."

She smiled and winked, "Of course, we both know how boring that can be."

Kirsty laughed and shook her head. Would this woman ever stop surprising her? "Yes, most definitely."

"I have another confession to make," Petrine placed the empty cup on the table and gathered Kirsty's trembling hands into hers. "I picked you for them."

She shook her head, "What do you mean? I know that Bjorn got your help and all?"

Petrine nodded, "Yes, but what even my son does not know is that I cross-referenced the candidates with my mailing list." She squeezed her hand, "That way, I'd know that at least they were curious about BDSM and especially polyandry."

Kirsty nodded as the pieces began to fall into place. Perhaps she should have felt like her confidence had been violated, as if she had been deceived, but she did not. Petrine, Raquel, or was it Olaf's Rachel had wanted to do her best by the woman who would become her replacement. Who would lead her sons and this family into the future. And she had done what she could to ensure that. How could she possibly resent the woman for that?

"Thank you. Thank you for choosing me," she barely choked the words out past her tears.

Petrine's arms wrapped her in that warm embrace that had gone so far to heal the hurts of that little girl who always craved the love and acceptance of a mother. This woman had become that for her. And now, she was losing her.

***

Olaf adjusted his tie. He only owned the one. He'd had it for forty-two years. Three funerals and now a wedding. Even on this happy occasion, the damned thing still choked him.

"I swear the woman must have planned this every time we went to sea. The whole town." He surveyed the crowded church. He went inside it about as often as he wore a tie. He squinted, "Helveti, there are people I don't even know."

Mikael laughed as he turned his father away from the doorway and adjusted his tie, making the damned thing even tighter. "Only Kirsty's father, his new partner, and her friend, Roz. She thought this would be a good excuse for meeting them."

Bjorn frowned as he looked over their shoulders, "Why did she invite them?"

"They are our 'cousins.' Besides, I'm still hoping we can change Karl's mind and get him to come back to work with us. He was the best we've found and I know he can't be happy working with his brothers," replied Mikael.

"Kirsty thinks we should feel them and a couple of others out about buying their license, or at the least some sort of partnership," added Sven.

"Not them," Bjorn's face darkened.

"No business at your mother's wedding," Olaf put an end to the discussion before it got out of hand. "Bjorn, you and Sven should go find the women, make certain they are ready for this show. Mikael, I guess it is time we took our place at the altar. Maybe that's why I feel like I am a sacrifice."

Mikael chuckled and slapped his father on the back, "This was all your idea, old man."

He shook his head, "No, I asked the woman to marry me. I said nothing about a wedding. And certainly not this." They all laughed as they dispersed.

Olaf tried to smile as he and Mikael walked down the aisle. The young new priest was a vast departure from the dour, elderly man who had run their local church for as long as Olaf could remember. Like most of the people in their village and the country, they only came inside its doors for the occasional wedding and especially funerals, perhaps Christmas or Easter. But today, he did not want to think about funerals.

Rachel and Kirsty had both taken to this young man who like his predecessor before him had taken up the mantel of community leadership. The people might not attend services, but they still respected their priests. The church was changing slowly. From its ancient Lutheran roots to a more secular world view. It had even authorized gay marriage.

Olaf smiled, wondering what this young man would think of their sons' and Kirsty's marriage. But today was about his. His and Rachel's wedding. He inhaled deeply as they reached the front of the small wooden structure. He forced himself to smile at the young man.

Sigurd would have made a good fisherman. Tall with broad shoulders, he reminded Olaf of Bjorn, although he was not quite as pretty in the face. Both men were about the same age. Why would a young man choose to give his life to serving a dead god?

The organ began to wail, and Olaf, like all the others, turned to face the back of the church. His smile widened as his granddaughter skipped down the aisle. In Monika's hand was a basket of wildflowers; they were freshly picked from the 'fighting fields' that morning.

Kirsty had spent over a week, bringing the little girl to the church each day, so that she could practice her part. She had even made them all come the last couple of times. Still, he knew that this large crowd had concerned the young woman. How would her daughter react to so many strangers? But they had all agreed it did not matter. Georgia was waiting just to the side, ready to assist in any way they needed. But Monika was halfway up the aisle, her little head down, and her tiny fingers focused on her task of strewing flowers on the old carpet.

Next came Kirsty in a flowing multi-color skirt and blouse that reminded Olaf of the ones that Rachel had worn when they first met her. She held more of those wildflowers in one hand; the other slipped through Bjorn's arm. He looked far more comfortable in a suit than Olaf felt in his.

There was a pause as the music increased in volume. There, in the doorway, the mid-day sun lighting her like a halo, stood his Rachel. Her arm through Sven's, who had chosen to play it safe and use his wheelchair today. He had not wanted to cause a scene on his mother's big day by falling, though that was not as likely as it had once been.

But Olaf's attention was entirely focused on the woman next to their son. From the moment he had laid eyes on her, his heart had been lost. But he swore that never, not even when she grew ripe with Mikael, had Rachel been more beautiful than she was today.

She, too, was wearing a white dress that fell to her ankles. It was the odd mix, her dress with the braids of a shield maiden topped with a flower crown. If she wore any make-up, he could not tell. But then again, the woman had never needed any artifice. Her health and inner beauty gave her a glow that no cosmetic ever could. Especially this day.

His old heart stopped when she smiled at him. Just as it had that first day.

***

They had waited as long as they could. A week. For a whole week, they had tarried in Amsterdam. By chance, Anders had slumped into Dam Square. It had been the hippie enclave for almost a decade, not a place for hardworking fishermen who favored tradition and practicality over dreams and drugs.

He had gotten lost that day and ended up in the square where thousands of unwashed and high young people hung out, often waiting for their chance at the Hippie Trail, an overland route to the east that ended in mythical Kathmandu.

In the crowds and confusion, he had stumbled upon her. Quite literally, running into the arms of the tall, blonde beauty with sparkling green eyes. Anders was smitten. Over the next few days, he had lobbied and sometimes badgered each of them in turn. It was time. Mama had been dead for two years. The Holding needed a new generation. She was perfect. Young. Alone in the world. No one would miss her. No one to come looking for her.

Lars had been easily convinced. He was the youngest and more than ready to try his wings with any young woman. Stig was a much harder sell. They did not have time for a woman. They were barely making by as it was. How could they afford to start a family now?

And he? He had been somewhere in between. Seeing both sides of the issue, uncertain what their future held. Until that day.

Anders had convinced Lars to go with him. They were meeting the woman, and that was how Olaf thought of her. Well, more like, the girl. They were meeting her at a small coffee house just off the square. The plan was to lure her back to the boat.

She was the curious type and had already been entranced with Anders' stories of the sea and their ancient Viking heritage. They would bring her back. Once Stig saw her, they were confident that he would give in. Olaf smiled, remembering how the two of them had almost dragged him with them that day.

His throat tightened, and his old eyes clouded over with unshed tears. Her laugh. It had been her laugh. That smile, which had captured his heart that day. She had been delighted to meet Anders' brothers. Yes, she wanted to see their ship before they went back to sea. Would she be there when they came back next month? She was not sure.

A shadow crossed her lovely face. She wasn't certain what she was going to do. Even living as the hippies did was not free. And her inheritance was running low. She wanted to continue her journey, see the world. Make that trip to Kathmandu. But she was a woman only.

Maybe she should go home. Back to America. She had cousins she could stay with for a bit. Perhaps go back to college, she had been studying the classics. Her particular interest was ancient gods and goddesses. Maybe she could find a commune to live in. She was not sure.

But if she was still there, then yes, she wanted to see him again. She had blushed. Her eyes shifted from one brother to the other. Olaf had wondered what she would think of their idea of marriage. It was when she dropped her gaze that he knew. He recognized in that look and her uncertainty, the signs of a sub, a true submissive.

He decided for them all. He had taken charge, practically commanded her back to Ægir's Captive. Stig had not been as easy to handle, though. "She is your responsibility. I won't have a woman getting in the way. We have jobs to do."

***

He wanted to laugh as he watched her walked down that aisle. If his brother had known just how much trouble this one would prove to be, would he have acceded? Perhaps. Because he always believed that even Stig had fallen instantly under her spell.

But she was most definitely his responsibility now. His alone. She had been. Their family had been for seven long years. Today was a new beginning. Their beginning.

His eyes drifted away from her for a heartbeat. Transfixed by three white granite headstones. The rock was taken from the heights of the fjord where he had proposed to their wife. Though one of those graves was empty, Lars' body forever claimed by Ran, Olaf felt their presence. His brothers stood witness this day. He liked to think he had their blessing. Those tears slipped from the corners of his eyes as he turned away from their past to the future. Their future -- his and Rachel's.

He was unashamed of the tears as he held out his hand to the woman that had held his heart for over four decades. There was that smile — the same shy, submissive one that she had in that café that day.

When she placed her hand in his, the years shone in it. She was not that young girl, lost and alone anymore. But neither was he that optimistic and naïve second son. They were older, and he hoped wiser. The years had not always been kind as testified by those tombstones, but they had come this far.

And they still had further to go. Places to see. Together. The two of them.

He tucked her aged hand into his and turned to that young priest, seeing for the first time in his eyes that same guileless hope that he had possessed that day. He prayed that the man's faith was never tested in the fires of Muspelheim or the icy cold mists of Niflheim. Not that he expected any god, or goddess, to listen to his unworthy pleas.

He had given up that hope in the frigid, pre-dawn morning four decades ago. Lars' laughing blue eyes seemed to wink at him from over the untried priestess' shoulder. 'Forgive me, brother,' he entreated his ghost.

He felt her fingers tightened around his. He turned to that ageless beauty, her own tears running unchecked down her cheeks that though lined still held more of that youthful beauty than her six-decades should have.

"I feel them, too," her words, their shared experience, a lifetime of love, laughter, and tears bound them tighter than this man's words or a piece of paper ever could. But standing in front of this crowd, before their sons, the gods and goddesses, and those ghosts felt incredibly right.

This was a celebration of life, love, and happiness — a new dawn. And his old heart soared, her wind lifted him high as it always had. And he knew that as with his brothers, one day, he would rise to Valhalla on the wings of this Valkyrie's love.

But that day could wait. He turned his attention back to this one and the words of commitment that fell from the innocent priestess' lips.

***

Rachel smiled until she thought her face would crack. She knew that these people were here for the free food, and especially the free alcohol. They were there out of curiosity, too. She knew what they honestly thought and felt.

Four decades she had lived among them. She had learned their language, both Norwegian and the local dialect. She had taught their children in their schools. She had brought their babies and grandbabies into this world. And she had held the hand of more than one of them as they made that final journey to Valhalla.

Yes, she knew that Olaf would probably take Forseti to her still tender backside, again, for the sacrilege. But in her mind, Valhalla was for everyone. This life was battle enough. They were all warriors. And victory was just surviving.