Can it truly be? Yes, Þrek is finally updating! I'm so sorry for the long wait. So many things went into this story in particular, and I found I didn't have it in me to finish it as quickly as the others. But, the great news is that it is fully written, so you'll be seeing daily updates until it's done!
Also, if you are intersed in doing a read-along with me of this saga, we just this morning launched Áræði on Facebook. Each week I post a set of annotated chapters that have all my notes and insights on. If you want to join us, head over to my group: Fanfics For Nerds.
Immense thank you to the team, Mel, Paige, and Jill!
.: Átta :.
Winter arrives swiftly in Iceland, and though part of me will miss the long summer days that stretch into warm summer nights, I cannot deny the joy I have in my heart at the prospect of a winter secluded with my Little One. She has no idea just how much pleasure and joy the darkness can bring.
It is hard at first, watching her struggle with the shortening days. I can see her body is not accustomed to the dark of a winter in the north, and often I consider going to my mother for an aid to carry my Little One through. The thing that stops me is Aledill. She'd come to us shortly after we arrived home on our farm and has been keeping my Little One company since. Though I know Bjorn and Egil are worried about the burden Aledill would be on our farm, she seems to have become grounded by my wife. She has been an asset to our home.
For a time, nearly everything is perfect in our world.
But then the dreams begin.
…
"Edvard."
Her voice ghosts over my skin as her lips, soft as feathers, graze over me.
Her long hair tickles my bicep as her head shifts to press a kiss to the center of my chest, and I let out a soft hum.
"Edvard, I want you to wake up."
"Not yet, my Little One." I groan softly, my eyes still closed.
She lets out a small noise, and then her teeth are scraping over my chest, startling me. My eyes fly open to see her leaning over me, her dark eyes full of mischief.
"There you are." She moans, sliding over my body so that her weight is pressing me into the furs. My hands find her hips, stroking her soft skin.
"You're quite demanding today," I tell her, one hand running up the smooth arch of her back.
She grins down at me. "I want you all to myself," she whispers, leaning in to kiss me. She tastes different—darker, spicier. This is not my Little One.
"Who are you?" I ask when she pulls back.
She leans her head on my chest, her smile coy and feline. "Can't you tell?" she asks, her voice playful.
I frown. She feels like my Little One—the same soft skin, the same silky hair—but she is not.
"Are you a spirit?"
She grins and leans down, her bright white teeth nipping at my chest again.
"I suppose that depends," she murmurs, her chin tilting to rub through the light hair sprinkled over my chest.
My hands flex over her back. "You cannot have me," I tell her.
She giggles. "Oh, my love," she coos, her hands sliding down my chest. Her hand finds my manhood, and I hiss in surprise. "I have you already."
Her touch is foreign yet familiar, exquisite yet torturous.
"No," I grunt, shaking my head. "You are not my Little One."
She giggles, releasing me as her body stretches over mine.
"I've always loved this part of you," she says, her hands scratching over my chest. "Your loyal heart. I want to eat it up."
Her words set within me a hunger darker and more profound than that which I have ever experienced.
"My Little One would not say such things," I protest, my voice growing weak.
She laughs softly, her lips brushing over my chest. "Oh, but she thinks them." She moans. "She wants to consume you, drink you dry. Haven't you seen the unquenchable thirst in her eyes?"
Despite myself, her words conjure up a very clear image in my mind's eye. My Little One, ravenous, insatiable in her hunger for me.
It is part of her we've been exploring together, and I cannot deny the deep thrill it brings me to see that need in her too.
"What do you want?" I ask, my voice shaking.
She laughs, her tongue coming out to lick a line down my throat. "I want you to wake up."
…
I am standing in a meadow back on our old farm. The sun is distant but warm above my head, and I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath.
"Can you smell that?"
My eyes open and immediately land on Bella … the Little One who is not my Little One.
"What?" I ask her.
She is sitting in the tall grass, and I realize, after a moment, she is completely nude. She smiles at me when she sees I've discovered this, and she shifts her hair, exposing her full pale breasts to the sun's light.
"The scent of magic is in the air."
I have to work to focus on her words. "What does that mean?"
She throws her head back, taking a deep breath, pushing her breasts up in the air until they seem to point to me. I look away from her.
"Someone is being naughty." She giggles. I look at her. "There is a witch amongst you."
I shift, uneasy. "I harbor no witches," I protest.
She sits forward, her brows dipping in confusion. "My Love, you are married to one."
Her tone is so genuine and sincere, I don't know what to do or say.
She sighs, leaning back in the grass so that her breasts are on display again.
"No chance you'd come over and ravage me, is there?" she asks, sounding hopeful. I scowl at her. She grins and leans back farther, her eyes sliding shut. "I thought not. Very well."
I watch in stunned silence as her hands travel over her body, one stopping at her breasts, the other sliding all the way between her legs.
She lets out a long moan as her fingers sink into her, and I feel heat flood my body.
This is not my Little One… This is not my Little One… This…
"Edward," she moans, and the sound brings me to my knees in the tall grass. "Oh, Edward."
I am powerless, watching her pleasure herself, calling out my name.
…
Months I have dreamt about the Little One who is not my Little One. So many times has she appeared in my dreams, it would seem as if to tempt me, but most often it seems she is lonely. For whatever reason, she needs my company.
It is this time dreaming of her that I start to truly understand my Little One. This Little One is candid, unabashed, clear in her thoughts, expectations, and demands. My Little One is still learning how to be this woman.
"You know, she's dreaming about you too," she says one night. We are in my room, and where my loving wife should be on our bed, Little One has replaced her.
"I'm sure," I say, thinking of the sounds I can sometimes hear my Little One making when she sleeps.
Little One laughs.
"She dreams of a you who is not you."
I look at her. "Who her mind conjures up in the night is not for me to worry about."
She gazes up at me. "So you would let her be ravaged by another, but you would not take the same opportunity?"
My fists squeeze ever so slightly. "You said she dreams of me," I remind her. She smiles and nods. "Then I am still the only one ravaging her."
The sound of her laughter leaves hunger in my belly.
"How long will you continue to refuse me?" she asks, one of her hands running over her body. I am used to her provocations now, and it hardly affects me.
"As long as you are not my Little One," I tell her.
"One day," she says, grinning as she stretches out on the bed. Her body brushes mine, and I stiffen slightly. "You are going to miss me. One day, you won't be able to find me, and you will beg for me back in your bed. One day, I'll be gone."
I look at her. "What is it you want?" I ask.
She relaxes, her head tilting as she gazes up at me. "I've been telling you," she says softly. "I want you to wake up."
"How can I keep dreaming of you if I wake?" I point out.
She sits up swiftly, her body coming around and sinking over mine. It is not much more than a shred of willpower that keeps me from entering her.
"You're not paying attention," she says, her fingers combing through my beard. "You have to wake up and remember."
"Remember what?"
She sighs and does not answer me. It is not a surprise. She never answers this question.
"Can you feel that?" she asks, leaning forward until her breasts are pressed against my chest. My hands go around her hips, and I tell myself it is to stop her from claiming me, but I cannot stop myself from stroking the smooth skin of her lower back.
"Feel what?"
Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, there is something ancient in her gaze. "The wind is changing."
Before I can ask her what that means, I am waking, and my Little One is feverishly attacking me, her desperation igniting my own hunger.
She sinks over me, mirroring the position in my dream, but this time, I let myself enter her, my body singing in pleasure as she surrounds me.
"Edvard," she moans, her breath hot as her lips scrape across my cheeks to seek my mouth. "Edvard, take me, please."
I do. I meet her hunger with my own, heart wild and frantic with my need. I am not delicate, not gentle. I do not hold back. I unleash upon her the beast her counterpart has whipped into a frenzy until I feel more animal than man.
My Little One meets me, thrust for thrust, cry for cry, always begging for more.
Our bodies speak to each other, attuned to the other's needs, the other's desires. Though we have not been married long, I know my Little One better than I've ever known anyone or anything else.
It is not long until we are both shaking, our cries nearly enough it would seem to level our home around us. I can feel my Little One shaking under my palms, feel her trembling from exertion, but perhaps something else as well.
I want to ask her what is on her mind, but I don't, deciding to let her tell me when she is ready.
Instead, I clutch her to me, my own mind wandering to the mysterious Little One in my dreams and the ominous warnings she'd left me with.
One day, you're going to miss me… One day, I'll be gone.