LUCK
A/N: Remember when Amnesia Eric says "I can't believe my luck," to Sook? *winks* I'm not sure what CH knows about Viking beliefs, but luck, the Norse "Hamingja," would be an integral part of Eric's beliefs. Heathens believe that the soul is a matrix of interrelated sections, each with its own power and impact upon a person's life. The Hamingja, one's personal luck, is part of this soul matrix. It may be nourished or diminished by our actions and choices. It is a vital, living, ever-changing thing that determines the quality of our lives, and the degree of difficulty we have to expend to reach our goals. Like DNA, it flows from parent to child connecting us to those who have gone before and to those who follow us. The Old Norse version of wassail is "ves heill," meaning "be well, and in good health." A Gythja is a priestess of the Aesir. This fic assumes the Aesir assisted birth of Kirsten and Adele Northman--powerful supernatural twins.
Thanks to AmaZen my brilliant, intrepid Beta, who cleans up all of my messes.
As always, all of CH's SVM characters are hers and hers alone.
This is Eric's prayer :
Grant O Spirit thy Protection
And in Protection, Strength
And in Strength, Understanding
And in Understanding, Knowledge
And In Knowledge, Truth
And in Truth, Love
There is magic in the changing of the seasons. Yule is a time of feasts and family--of the mysteries of the hearth and heart and home, of the power and joy of the greatest feast-day of the year.
On this Solstice night, I have set our great Yule log, decorated with holly and red ribbon, in our fireplace. Kirsten and Adele love to light the Yule log and let it burn well into the morning hours to ensure this year's good fortune. So many of our traditions blend with my wife's --our living Yule tree, our green boughs and evergreen wreaths - signifying the wheel of the year, the welcoming lights that hold off the darkness, and the sacred seasonal colors of red, green, and white. More so now than at any other time in my life, Yule is a time to celebrate my immense good fortune as we welcome the birth of light from the womb of night.
It was not always thus. By 1990 or so, century upon endless, grinding century had dimmed a certain brightness of spirit in me. Life, which I could hardly get my fill of, had lost its luster and my inner light, my soul if you will, had nearly died. Immortality was becoming bitter, empty and tiresome. Before much longer, I would have met the sun simply to put an end to the darkness within.
This longing for light was an uneasy compulsion, a constant tug-of-war not unlike my relationship with my beloved Sookie. And just as constant rubbing back and forth restores a tarnished lamp, my love for my mate and children has burnished and renewed my inner flame.
I wake this night to the crisp, aromatic scent of fresh evergreen boughs, cinnamon, sugar, and the sweet scents of my wife and daughters. They are in the kitchen, baking. In honor of their second naming and of the Solstice, we will celebrate this night with a small group of our closest friends and family. Although they are only twelve, both Kirsten and Adele have passed their first moon blood, and will now receive their true names--names only those closest to them may know. Tonight, Finna Hrútsdóttir, High Gythja of the Aesir and our daughters' spirit mother will perform the Great Naming rite.
I'm drawn to the warmth of the kitchen and pause quietly by the door to drink in the scene. Sookie looks beautiful and flushed as she mixes several different batches of cookie dough at the kitchen table. When she insisted upon preparing the food for her friends and kin, I didn't argue and she seemed happy enough to let caterers arrange and serve the food while we attend the ceremony. Sookie loves to cook. It is an expression of her love--the work of her hands. This beauty with the small dab of batter on her cheek is the heart of my existence. The girls chatter and laugh, their soft southern drawls softening the edges of their words. In all of the nine worlds, there are no other children like my precious daughters. I would give my own existence to keep them safe and happy.
Although, their long, blond hair falls in waves to the small of their backs, their modern designer jeans and shirts look no different from any other girl's. Leaving their hair uncut was my only request, a holdover from my Viking past when only slave women wore cropped hair. Especially upon formal occasions, like tonight's, unmarried girls wore their hair long and loose. Tall like my sisters, Kirsten is a head taller than Adele. Poised between girlhood and womanhood, she is as leggy and capricious as a filly. Already a fine athlete, she loves to fight and is becoming a fierce warrior as well.
My gentle, exquisitely delicate Adele was born to wield magic, not a sword. For now, her magic is made by a bow on a violin. Yet her stronger Fae heritage makes her the more magically powerful of our daughters. She too will be a formidable warrior--by necessity if not by choice.
The kitchen hums with contentment, activity, and the excitement of the naming and Solstice celebrations. I love to watch Sookie and the girls perform these homely tasks.
I place my hand on Kirsten and Adele's shoulders, and kiss their shining heads.
"Ves heill mina kära! Are you almost done? You should be putting on your dresses for the ceremony."
My daughters hug me and slip effortlessly into Old Norse. Kirsten crinkles her nose.
"Do we really have to wear those wool sacks and cloaks? Teresa Moreno's sister got to wear a gown for her Quinceanera." Being Weres, the Morenos also have other coming of age traditions that are not remotely charming. But I have no intention of explaining this to my twelve year old daughter.
I tap her nose gently. "That is the Moreno's tradition. A naming ceremony of our people requires our traditional garb. And you are not wearing sacks! Your kinswoman, Pam, spent months embroidering your robes, and you are to show your gratitude! Now, mina kära, go and get ready. You'll be glad of all the wool, and the cloaks; it will be a cold walk to our sacred grove tonight."
As the girls vanish upstairs, Sookie finishes spooning the dough onto cookie sheets and slides them into the oven. My arms encircle her as she straightens. Her skin is flushed, warm, and fragrant. It's always the same. There is no end to my wanting her
I brush the batter from her cheek. "You smell delicious, min älskare."
I groan and harden as she takes my fingers into her warm, wet mouth, flicks her tongue over them, and bats her eyelashes coquettishly as she sucks the batter off.
The feel of her beautiful, full lips pulsing with warm, sweet blood goes straight to my cock. But there are tasks I must perform before I can make love to my beautiful wife--rites that ensure that the hamingja I give to our daughters will fill their lives with peace and happiness.
I press her against me, unwilling to let her go however briefly. "It's a strain on my natural instincts lover, but we'll have to wait."
Her blue eyes sparkle, "With two dozen guests about to arrive, that thought had occurred to me…" She tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear and whispers, "But after the guests leave…we have an appointment in the hot tub. I think I'll want my husband warm after being out in that cold."
I kiss Sookie one last time, slip out into the crisp, silent night and lift into the sky. Before heading to the grove, I survey my land to ensure that all is well. I am a tribal being at heart. After millennia, I am a husband and father again, and the safety of those I love comes before all other concerns. The vampire guards on duty tonight are all at their stations. Powerful magical wards press against me, testing my register then giving way, as they should to the master of this land.
The same ward will close around my enemies and suffocate them with darkness and madness. Those who endanger my mate and children will have every scrap of information extracted and then be killed without pity. I have nailed the flayed hide of one enemy to its kinsmen's wall. My enemies fear me because I am ruthless.
Tonight, nothing trespasses upon my land. Moonlight sheathes acres of frost-rimed stubble. A web of ice frames moonlight rippling across the pond, sparkling silver on the brown water. Winter-bare branches interlace upon the hillside, studded here and there with dark and graceful stands of cypress. The night wind's soft rustle invites my descent to a shadowy grove in the woodland's heart. A venerable oak stands alone in the center, draped with pearly strands of sacred Mistletoe, destroyer and healer of Baldur, whose white berries are born of Frigga's tears.
Beside it stands a tall, patrician woman whose richly embroidered and brocaded woolen dress almost hides the pleated linen smock beneath it. Long, flaxen braids fall to her waist. She needs no headdress to proclaim her status. The tri-spiral markings upon her forehead, the runic tattoos upon her high, broad cheekbones, and the power that flows from her proclaim her eminence.
Ice-green eyes that have witnessed nearly two millennia of history fix upon me. I kneel before Finna Hrútsdóttir, High Gythja of the Aesir; a holy woman who has evolved beyond both human and vampyric nature. She is the guide and keeper of the inner light that lies waiting and hidden in the darkness of our ancient souls. We speak in the old tongue.
"My Lady. Thank you for traveling so far to sponsor our daughters' naming. We are honored by your presence."
She touches my head lightly in blessing. "You daughters are beloved of the Aesir. It is my joy to present your young ones with their secret names of power and celebrate the Solstice with your family." Her mouth curves in a thoughtful smile. "I was once a wife and mother. I rejoice for you--that you may again celebrate the great feast as a husband and father. It has been a long journey for you Erikr. When the beautiful telepath came to you, you had grown jaded and weary."
I raise my brows. A flash of humor crosses her face.
"This is so…and you know it. You had nearly lost the inner light that allows you to love, and in losing that gift, you had almost lost your soul. Eventually you would have given your emptiness to the sun. But love has drawn you back from the brink. Your wyrd is great, and great will be your trials. Know that your soul will endure with the blessing and miracle of your gifted women." Her face dimples with an almost girlish grin. "Let us pray that your hamingja will continue to be great as well."
I nod. "They will be here soon."
"Then we'd best begin. Strip an evergreen bough, then kneel by the sacred spring and cleanse yourself."
I choose the bough from a cypress. The spicy, aromatic fragrance surrounds us as I hand the evergreen to the Lady Finna. She touches it to the water and waits as the wind dies away.
I kneel and wash my hands and face in the cold, sweet water, bubbling softly from deep within the earth. Sookie's voice brushes my mind. We're almost there…
Finna Hrútsdóttir stays with me as I begin the rite of cleansing and state my prayer.
"Great gods; spirit of the spring and thy kindred; revered ancestors, and mighty Nornir who weave the wyrd of all beings, bless this water gathered as the wheel of the year turns toward the light. Bless our daughters upon their Solstice naming day. May their spirits reflect your light. May their choices be just and true, and may the luck that I pass them sweeten their lives."
Misty veils of energy, the elementals of the earth, air, and water, flow around me anticipating the power registers of my supernatural kin.
The Lady Finna lifts the water laden evergreen "This prayer I do witness and the Aesir acknowledge." She turns toward the darkened woods. "Behold…upon the darkest of nights, the light bringers approach." The air buzzes and crackles with magic as Finna Hrútsdóttir flicks her wrist. Drops touch my face and a deep awe envelops me as the hallowed water reveals a luminous aurora of shifting hues. I gaze in rapture as my radiant daughters advance through ranks of swirling elementals.
Their golden heads are graced with a crown of unlit candles set in a wreath of holly, whose sharp, green leaves and red berries are sacred to the goddess Freya. Their white gowns are belted with red and gold sashes, embracing the great web of being, animals, plants, men and gods flowing into and around one another, depicted in elaborate green knot work.
Behind them walks their mother, Sookie; Prince Niall; their kinswomen Claudine and Pam. Next, a smiling but cautiously silent Jason accompanies my lovely niece Zeline. It is a short procession. After the ceremony, other friends and relatives will arrive at our home to celebrate the Yule and Kirsten and Adele's naming.
The high Gythja claps her hands. Candles burst into flame, and suddenly Adele and Kirsten are crowned in glorious halos of light. Their beautiful, innocent faces radiate joy, anticipation, purity of spirit. My love for them is boundless and I renew my vow to keep them safe from all harm. Then briefly, I close my eyes and allow myself simply to be still in the velvet darkness illuminated only my radiant daughters.
Finna begins, "We meet on this longest night, here at the year's turning, to dedicate these Daughters, and to remember the radiant and loving light within us."
She extends her hands in blessings, "May the light within you ignite your spirit. May your choices, grounded in clarity and truth, bring you good fortune.
"We gather on this sacred night to bless these Daughters, Kirsten and Adele--that they may learn their true names and fully enter into their destinies.
"We gather on this sacred night to name these daughters. To name is to give power. Tonight the gods give these Daughters that gift. Kirsten and Adele approach.
"Sookie and Eric, stand behind them placing your hands upon each child's shoulder as we call upon The Norns, the weavers of wyrd, to attend us."
Not quite on cue, but with a certain solemnity, Jason produces a flask and hands it to thirteen year old Zeline, also a follower of the Aesir.
Pouring the contents onto the ground she intones "Urd, Vervandi, and Skuld be welcome at our hearth. We give you the gift of mead." She stifles a giggle as Kirsten's mouth twitches with amusement.
Now it is my turn to speak.
"We are here to celebrate the gift of our Daughters' lives and to rededicate them, by their free choice, to the Aesir so that they might receive their names of power. Sookie, my wife, you are the heart of our family, the tender of our hearth. Without you my life would be without light. I thank you for carrying these lives within you for nine moons, for enduring the pangs of birth, and for ceaselessly guiding and loving Adele and Kirsten through your words and example."
I meet her eyes, knowing that she will understand the depth of feeling behind my words.
"I still cannot believe my luck."
It is Sookie's turn. It is hard for both of us to express these things to each other in private, much less in the presence of witnesses. Her shoulders relax as I soothe her through our bond. She blinks back tears and clears her throat nervously.
"We celebrate the gift of our Daughters and rejoice in their confirmed dedication to the Aesir. Eric, you are the spirit of our family, and the driving force that protects us, loves us, and provides for us. Thank you for caring for us in every way, for encouraging our talents, for loving us." She draws a deep breath and meets my eyes. "And I thank the powers that be for you."
Sookie's declaration is more than I ever expected to hear in public or private, and I have to admit that it is very gratifying. I raise my eyebrow. That took some courage, my lover. I'll thank you personally later…
The candles hiss and flutter as Finna flicks the sacred water over the girls.
"Kirsten and Adele, daughters of three races, chosen of the Aesir, as your spirit mother I present you with the names bestowed upon you by the Aesir. Kirsten Ericdóttir step forward. "
Finna removes a sprig of mistletoe from her pouch and places it in the center of Kirsten's wreath. "I give you this sacred mistletoe--ward against evil and bringer of good fortune." The air shimmers and pulses with magic. A shield of red and gold light, resembling falcon wings, surrounds Kirsten as Finna raises her arms. "Beloved of the Lady Freya, mistress of magic, love, and battle--receive your true name."
She touches Kirsten's brow. Although Finna does not speak aloud--Kirsten "sends" her secret name to us. Kirsten smiles broadly. I translate for Sookie:
Sváss Rekkr--Beloved Warrior.
It is a good, strong name, most appropriate for our fiery Kirsten.
Finna places a gold amulet of the falcon-cloaked Freya around Kirsten's neck. Kirsten's connection to Freya was revealed at her conception, but we don't know who will claim Adele. I fear for my other child. Once she is named, her connection to the sponsoring deity will be strengthened. Perhaps one of the gentle goddesses, Hlin or Frigga, will claim my gentle child.
"Adele Ericdóttir step forward."
She is afraid. Still, my child lifts her chin, meets Finna's gaze and walks forward. I struggle to lift my hand from her shoulder even as my fangs run out. Every instinct screams at me to spring forward and protect her. Sookie grips my arm. I feel as if I am watching Adele sail headlong into a storm while I stand on the shore unable to bring her to safety.
Finna repeats the rite of the mistletoe, and touches Adele's head. But something different happens now. Lightening splits the cloudless sky. The scent of ozone and juniper overwhelms us and Adele is encased in a blinding blue and white light. Finna gasps and drops to her knees, her head touching the ground. Adele's breath catches sharply. I try to defend her but am rooted to the spot by a force far greater than my own and my blood freezes as I realize why.
Within the column of blazing light I hear Adele speaking in Old Norse, quite calmly. Then she laughs as if sincerely amused, and the light lifts gently from her like a caress.
Finna confirms what I already know. The great Allfather, lord of battle, magic, wisdom, and wit, has claimed Adele. It is both an honor and a horror, proclaiming her a great warrior destined to seek a valiant death in battle. How can I shield her from a god or from her destiny? Only through my own choices, only by applying every skill that I have acquired in my thousand years. I must make the best decisions possible so that only the best of luck touches Adele's destiny.
When the light fades, Finna rises and steps forward. Her clear observant eyes take Adele in.
"Adele Ericdóttir--you are beloved of the great Lord Odin. Your wyrd is bound to the Aesir and it is mighty. You name is…significant. May it bring you good fortune."
Finna places an elaborate gold disc with interlocking beasts and runes of protection about Adele's neck.
Adele's eyes lock upon her great great Grandfather's. She is obviously speaking with him and I chafe, not knowing what passes between them. I will ask her later. If it is truly important she will tell me.
Niall nods and smiles and Adele's features relax. She returns to us. As I place my hand on her shoulder for reassurance, her body crackles with the residue of the god's register and I hiss softly. This wyrd is too much for her to bear, I think. And yet she must, and I must help her. Sookie squeezes Adele's arm anxiously. Adele shrugs and smiles softly.
I'm fine. He was very…um…nice….really. Just a little overwhelming…
Finna extinguishes the candles and we leave the grove. It is only then that Adele reveals her name to us-- Sváss Brú--Beloved Bridge.I dread its significance.
It is a mighty name; a name signifying unity, power, and the strength to bear great burdens. I ponder this as we make our way back to the house.
Home again, we change into casual evening clothes to welcome our friends. I light the Yule log from a piece of last year's and it blazes brightly in the fireplace. Evergreen wreaths adorn the doors, and a ball of mistletoe hangs over the threshold to ensure good luck in the coming year. Surrounded by friends and family, it is easy to push aside my fear and focus upon the wonders and happiness of this night.
Later, when the guests have left and the girls have finally gone to their beds, exhausted and happy, Sookie and I retreat to our suite and our spa.
In the light of many candles, we reverently undress each other. Her naked body is golden, flawless-- her skin and scent unlike that of any other woman. I step into deliciously warm water, lifting her in after me. I tow her across to the seat in the deepest section, and shudder with delight as the water flows up to my chest and heat pulses through me.
My reaction seems to amuse her. Sookie smirks, trailing her hands over my shoulder and circling and pinching my nipple with her thumb.
"What are you thinking my lover?"
"I'm thinking that I have a hot husband."
Sookie is flushed and rosy with the heat, I lick a bead of perspiration from the hollow of her neck and I draw her close until her taut, sensitive nipples rub against my chest. My hands slide down the soft lines of her back, her waist, her hips, to lift her rump and ease her down onto me. She gasps slightly at the inrush of warm water. My tongue traces the soft fullness of her lips. I know every inch of her body, and I still ache to touch, to taste and be consumed by her.
"Well," I murmur as I cup her breasts and smooth hot water over her glistening skin, "you wanted a 'hot' husband and now you have one. I pull her closer so that her cheek nestles against my neck. I make a slight movement with my hips and laugh when she moans softly and mutters, "Tease!"
Sookie settles contentedly onto my cock as my fingers drift once more over the length of her back, sliding deep into the cleft of her buttocks. As tickling as a trout, my fingers travel on to the slick, throbbing folds where we are joined. I rock inside of her with a regular pulsing cadence as our lips and fingers explore each other in the darkness On this longest night, as the world shifts toward the light, we take our time exploring, arousing, and giving each other pleasure. She rides with me now pressing down to meet every upward thrust.
Her breath comes in gasps as she buries her forehead against my chest and writhes against me.
"Eric…please."
Her craving is powerful, palpable. Perhaps tonight, as it sometimes does, Sookie's orgasm will ignite her magical energies.
"Not yet, my lover…"
My hands encircle her waist and press her down.
"Not…until," I rotate my hips slowly and provocatively, "I feel you throbbing around me..."
I thrust once, twice, again, "and you cry out in my arms as hungry and wanting as I am…"
She moans, sobs and wriggles as we pick up the pace. I match her urgency with my own.
Our tongues rove, plunge, retreat, lunge. As if in response to her arousal , the air shimmers. Sookie's power rises up to swirl and pulse around my cock. The pressure of holding back becomes unbearable, and I match her urgency with my own. Her skin beads with sweat and her breath comes in the little punctuated gasps that I love to hear before her climax. Her back arches and her slippery, magnificent breasts press against me. I cry out in the hot darkness, spilling into her in a shuddering release as I bite her neck and devour her sweet, powerful blood.
We cling to one another, buoyant, boneless, and content. My love for Sookie is the light of my truest being--an eternal spark of divinity that can never be dulled or depleted. It radiates my best qualities, my purest impulses.
Sookie sighs in pleasant exhaustion "Eric."
I smile in the darkness and wriggle against her…"I'm still here, min älskare."
"I love you."
"Oh," I tease. "You mean you love the ruthless, self-serving bastard, who only looks out for his own best interests?"
I feel her lips curve into a smile against my chest.
"No…I love you…and I can't believe my luck."
Well, what did y'all think?
Happy Holidays and Best Wishes for Great Hamingja in the New Year!