Krigsgaldr - "War Magic"
Tyr was the son of the leader in a small village of Southern Svealand. A faith that came with obligations he did not want.
Freke was a wolf shapeshifter, a descendant of Fenrir some would say, and they were both loved and h...
Liv was right about Tyr. He was the most honourable man I had ever met, and I didn't blame her for falling for him. Did I like it? No. But I knew she wasn't his type, so I had nothing to fear.
I would have put my coins on Dag though. He was sweet and kind, and he made my lover laugh. He was young, but old enough to catch my lover's interest with his dimples and wheat colored hair. But as I kept watching them together, I noticed they had more of a brotherly connection than anything romantic or even sexual.
I didn't mind sharing, and unlike me, Tyr was somewhat attracted to women. Which was good considering he had to marry one. My thoughts drifted to the woman with hair as white as wind-flowers, and eyes blue as the sky. She was pretty, and their children would be adorable, I thought, smiling to myself. I wouldn't mind helping them raise a few pups.
When first hearing about his upcoming marriage, something inside me wanted to despise whatever woman he would be forced to marry. But I could never hate Noora.
She was a kind soul and I actually felt a little bad for them both having to marry only to keep their status. The spirit-wolf did not care who you married or who you loved, and I was pretty sure the Aesir didn't care either.
Me and Tyr had been together since we were young which meant that our relationship had changed throughout the years. From best friends to lovers, to soulmates and partners for life.
Like all couples we had dealt with our insecurities, arguing and yelling at each other from time to time, but we always found our way back into each other's arms. He was my rock, and I was his fire.
My thoughts drifted back to Liv. I wouldn't have minded if he took another lover when I was gone, as long as it was nothing more then sex, something to distract him when he waited for me to return. And as long as it wasn't her. She was too clingy and I had a gnawing feeling that something was off about her.
The way she argued with him, disrespecting him. It made my skin crawl. I couldn't care less about what she said about me, I was used to it. And it didn't bother me much. I was loved by my pack and my human family.
Tyr's parents, Halvar and his wife, Ingulfrid, had taken me in like one of their own. Tofa was like a sister to me, and I knew they all loved me and respected me. Besides my relationship with Tyr, they were all that mattered to me. Faste was a dear friend, Ivar was growing on me, and the people of Skal were too.
I stirred the pot of the herbal concoction I was preparing. It would ease Faste's pain, and soothe the swelling of a young girl's ankle. I was late, and they had been expecting me hours ago. I would tell them a few excuses, that it was hard to find the herbs I needed. But the truth was, I had tried to be useful all day, but my mind kept drifting back to Tyr and Bjarke.
What if Bjarke found out what really happened? That it hadn't been a fair fight between Tyr and his father, that I had healed him. What if the people of Skal found out? I felt sick in my stomach thinking about it. But at the same time, they had to appreciate all the things Tyr had done for them. Maybe they wouldn't care? Maybe they were so happy Brokk was dead they didn't care about one tiny spell?
But I had to prepare for the future. I wanted to make sure that Tyr had good people around him. Because one of those days I would have to leave again. My wolf called on me and I struggled to keep my human form. I felt the need to run, to feel the moss underneath my paws and hunt my own meals.
Bjarke's magic had indeed weakened me and the spirits and my wolf called for me to give in, to leave the humans and gather my strength in the woods instead.
I needed it. I needed to be strong to protect them. But how could I leave with a madman on their doorstep? Their doorstep, not mine. This would never be my home, just like Blidsfell meant nothing to me, neither did Skal. My home was in the world of the spirits, where the noise of Midgard was muffled and the voices of the gods were louder.
But home was also a man with blond long hair and grey eyes. The man who wore a smile that would make any bad day turn into a good one, and spread his calming energy around him that I longed to inhale whenever we were parted.
I loved Tyr with all my heart, and I would never leave him for good. Only for short moments to please the spirits. But this time I decided to listen to my own voice, and the result was to ignore them. That thought alone gave me enough anxiety to curl into a ball of fur and hide in a fox's den for a few hours, delaying my chores and making everyone wonder where I had been. I never told anyone about my fears. Not even Tyr.
Sometimes I longed for my brother and my mother to get here. They would understand, even if Calder often barked at me for returning to Tyr, he understood that it was my heart's choice. I had decided to stay with Tyr, and I would. No matter the cost. And they all knew it.
There was another thought pressing at the back of my mind. Vidar was probably joining my mother and coming here too, and I had to prepare Tyr for that. He was more of the jealous type and meeting my maður might spark something that we did not have time for. We had to focus on Bjarke and his dark magic that pestered the woodlands and would soon enter Skal.
The bigger question was, what would Vidar think of my relationship with Tyr when he saw it up close?
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