Fated to the Viking Lord

Even at this late hour, I could make out that we were in a dense forest, surrounded by some rocky shield. While the highway was well lit, out here there was not a single source of light, save for the lights from the car. If I had to describe where we were, it would probably be "the middle of fucking nowhere."

Eventually, we pulled up to a wooden inn. It was a three-storey building, with a stone foundation that covered most of the first floor. Stone was bricked along the edges of the building and around each of the window foundations. The roof looked like it was made of tin or some other form of metal. Everything else was stacked logs.

The building looked like a cross between a Nordic sauna and an antique shop. A single light illuminated the front door, where a sign swung casually in the wind. Printed on the sign was "Gammalt svenskt värdshus." That was the same name that appeared on my reservation, so this was evidently the right spot.

Inga killed the engine, and suddenly the light from the front door of the spa was the only light around.

I grabbed my bag and stepped out of the car. Immediately, I was accosted by a cold gust of wind.

In October, it was around ten degrees in Québec City when I had left. I was absolutely not dressed for how cold it was here. It must be close to freezing.

"Inga, where exactly are we?" I asked, hoping that her answer would tell me exactly why I was now freezing.

"You're at an old manor house, about halfway between Tammerfors and Lahtis. You're on a lake called the Dragon's Hearth, in what is ostensibly the middle of nowhere. Welcome to your home for the next week," she proclaimed dryly.

What had Daniella talked me into? As we walked towards the sole light in what suddenly seemed like the entire world, I took a quick look at the long driveway. Inga's car was the only one parked here, and the large manor looked otherwise abandoned. There were vines growing along the stone walls, and the whitewashed walls looked like something straight out of the 1700's.

There were trees everywhere. I was used to the forests of the Laurentian mountains. Luke insisted that we go several times each year to corporate retreats north of Montréal to get to know clients better. That was a boreal forest like the one I was in now. I knew that much. But this forest was *much* denser. I could barely see a metre into the woods in any direction, and when I could, I was looking directly into what looked to be a rocky escarpment.

Inga used an old iron key to unlock the wide oak front door. I noticed the sign hanging over the door, and decided that I would simply ask what it meant.

"Hey Inga, if you don't mind me asking, what does that sign waving in the wind say?"

"Not at all Lucille. Gammalt svenskt värdshus literally translates to old Swedish inn. This place used to be a popular stopover for people travelling in the region. It sat idle for a long time before Kristófer decided to turn the place into a spa and hotel to legitimize the building."

"That's a pretty interesting history," I remarked.

"You can read all about it, if you'd like. The actual land here dates back to well before Christianization of Finland and Sweden. Kristófer has a few books on that if you'd like... and if you can read medieval Swedish," she added, with a slight chuckle.

As we stepped into the building, I took a moment to examine the foyer.

The walls were wooden panels, and there were antique maps, paintings of mountains and rivers, and what looked like medieval tapestries hanging all over the walls. There was a small fire going in a fireplace, with several high-backed chairs covered in a fine embroidery. In between the chairs there were some coffee tables, with what looked like an antique chess set. Between the chairs and the door where I was standing, there was a wall with several shelves filled with leather bound books. Each book looked like it was written a hundred or more years ago, and had seen better days.

All in all, it looked rustic, and historical, and absolutely charming. It also gave off incredibly old-world money vibes, and I wondered if I should look at my VISA bill on my phone to see what my sister - who was usually a bargain hunter - had gotten me into.

However, just as I was about to pull out my phone and ask for the wi-fi password, Inga spoke loudly in the direction of the front counter, sitting behind the high-backed chairs. I had been so engrossed in the fascinating décor that I had not paid any attention to the man standing in the partially illuminated counter.

"Hey Kristófer, I'm back with our new guest," she said to him.

"I see that," he replied to her in English.

He turned to face me, and I got a good look at him in the light of the foyer. He was taller than me, but not by much. He had pale skin with a hint of blonde and red stubble across his face. His blonde hair was closely cut to his head. He had broad shoulders that were on display in a peasant tunic with three buttons undone down the centre, flashing off some of his sandy blond chest hair. His broad chest tapered to a slim waist and muscular legs encased in tight brown dress pants. Completing the look were a pair of pure black Chelsea boots that wouldn't look out of place in a medieval court, or on a Paris catwalk in 1996. He looked like he couldn't be older than twenty-two.

That being said, for such a young man, he was certainly easy on the eyes. He was handsome. I briefly caught myself wondering if he was single, working out here at a rural spa.

"Welcome, to the Old Swedish Inn," he said to me in slightly accented French.

Oh. That was definitely welcome. He went from handsome to definitely cute, with his ability to speak in my own language. Why, if I was as uncouth as Luke and was willing to seduce someone younger, why I'd... give up immediately. I don't have the power or money of Luke. What would this young Swedish man want with a woman like me anyway. Luke even said it himself; fat men can get away with this sort of thing. Women like me cannot.

He interrupted my thoughts with his deep voice precisely as I was starting to tear into myself.

"I hope your week with us will be as pleasurable and fun as you'd like. You've signed up for the deluxe package, which includes access to the hot spring, the sauna, the massage area, as well as a guided hiking tour of the surrounding escarpment and a polar dip in the lake. All meals are provided, along with fika - which is sort of our coffee break - as well as wine, mead and aquavit. I bake my own bread, lussekatter and I have also prepared a batch of our speciality chocolates as well."

I nodded along. Wow, Daniella sure can pick them. This place was going to be excellent. Hopefully, it would be just what I needed to get my head out of the sand and figure out what I was going to do about Luke. And our condo. And my career. Screw it, I'll worry about that later.

"I can show you to your room, if you'd like?" Kristófer asked.

"Sure, I'd like that."

"First, can I help you with your luggage?" Kristófer added, eyeing my pink bag suspiciously.

"Uh, no. I kind of booked this thing last minute, and what I have here is sort of all I brought." I told him, both ashamed of the fact that I must look terrible, and that I was definitely ogling him despite the fact that I was old enough to be his mother.

"I kind of figured as much," he remarked. "It's not every day we get a booking for a week with only a day's notice. Especially this time of year. It's too early for the December rush, and not a lot of people want to come to the pine forests once all the leaves on the birch trees have fallen."

Kristófer led me into the inn, and up the stairs. There were a few antique lanterns along the walls that looked like they had small, blue LED lights in them. It illuminated the interior of the building nicely, but still let me know that it was night.

We went up the wooden staircase along the back of the building. On the second floor, there were several rooms. Kristófer stopped outside the first room, and opened the solid oak door. It creaked as it opened, slowly revealing a spacious room. There was a king-sized bed with at least a half a dozen pillows on top. There was a wooden armoire in the corner, along with a full standing mirror, and a desk with an antique lamp on it. It was a standard affair for an inn, but it was plush and comfortable without being sterile and bland. It fit every Nordic stereotype I had.

"I know you just landed, but is there anything that I can interest you in tonight? If you don't wish to turn in, you can take advantage of any of our services tonight. I think we even still have some cinnamon rolls downstairs in the kitchen, should you be hungry."

I thanked him profusely. When he stepped out of my room, I closed the door and fell backwards onto the bed. It was soft, and fluffy and very comfortable. The room was warm, and the lamp bathed the room in a soothing white glow. The large purple drapes that covered the window were drawn tight, and I left them closed.

I had not eaten since lunch time, and it was well passed dinner here. I decided to head on downstairs to see if I could take Kristófer up on his offer of a cinnamon roll, and maybe see if I could use the hot spring.

Shit! Then I remembered that I didn't have a bathing suit! I never bothered to pack one. Maybe I could ask Inga for one. She was a woman of my age and size. She'd probably have something modest. I wouldn't want Kristófer to see me in a slim one-piece or Gods forbid, a bikini. He'd probably laugh himself to death, I thought. He'd probably be more interested in that bitch Nida.

I made my way downstairs to the kitchen, where Inga and Kristófer were chatting idly in Swedish.

"So, uh, I know it's getting late, but with the time difference, I'm still hungry, and uh, I'd love to use the hot spring, but I don't have a bathing suit, so uh, could I borrow one of Inga's, please and thank you?" I asked them both.

Kristófer smiled at Inga, then wandered over to the oven. Opening one of the lids, there were a series of pastries sitting inside, still warm. He slid one onto a plate, then passed it over to me.

"Well, that answers your first question. Please enjoy the cinnamon roll. We make them fresh daily."

"...and the second question?" I asked.

"Well, I'm not sure how you do things over in Québec, but both our sauna and our hot spring are clothing optional. Usually, guests from Finland or Sweden just use them without a suit. We get the odd American or Brit that covers up, usually with a towel, but most people are simply nude."

I must have looked like a deer in headlights.

"Uh, can I go in my underwear?" I asked.

If Kristófer had of been the person that I had in my head on the ride over - a zillion years old with a flabby tummy - I might have considered it. But he was a gorgeous young man. And I was in no way ready to let him see me like that.

"Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I'll go get the hot spring ready. It's in the basement. Just go down the stairs until you get to the room with the blue lights. It's in there."

Inga told us both that she was going to bed, while Kristófer headed down to prep the hot spring. I took my cinnamon roll back up to my room, and decided on whether I would take a dip tonight. It was my first night here. I'd been here less than an hour. These people seemed friendly, and as Daniella has said, I was a foreigner and I was leaving in a week. They wouldn't judge me.

Fuck it. If Luke can fuck around with Nida or Nina or whatever the Hell, then I can let some young stud see me in my underwear.

I knew that there was only Inga, Kristófer and myself in the inn for the whole week. So, I kicked off my shoes and socks, and dropped my sisters' pants onto the bed. I'd have to remember to tell her that yeah, the stretchy fabric was super comfortable. Then I shucked off my cardigan and blouse. I stood in front of the full-length mirror and looked at myself.

I was wearing a pair of high-waisted panties. Luke called them "granny panties". He expected me to look like a model all the time, despite working long hours in an office. I gave up caring years ago. I realized that he had never once made me feel sexy. I don't think he'd even touched me intimately in the last six months. It showed. Now I know why.

My patch of dense red pubic hair was clearly visible through the thin, white cotton panties. Some was even on my upper thighs. With Luke absent - now I know why - I never bothered to really maintain the bush. Now it was a jungle.

My tummy was a little bigger than what I was used to, and my bust was large. Some of it was the weight I had put on, but I had always had big boobs. Adding that to my sizable hips and thighs, and you know what, I didn't look half bad for a thirty-nine-year-old woman who had just been cheated on.

With a newfound burst of confidence, I grabbed a towel from my ensuite bathroom, and wrapped it around my torso, leaving the straps of my plain white bra visible. I padded barefoot down the stairs to the first floor. Then I continued downwards even further. Once I had passed ground level, the walls turned to stone. I descended another few metres before the stairwell leveled out. There were three rooms down here, each with a solid oak door.

Two doors were closed, and one had Inga's name on it. The one at the end of the corridor however was wide open, and a hazy blue light emanated from within.

I cautiously walked into the room, and was instantly amazed.

In the middle of the room was a hot spring, carved directly into the bedrock. It was only a metre or two deep, and would probably only come up to my shoulders at its deepest. All around the room were Nordic runes, carved into the granite walls. There were several small lamps installed on the ceiling that bathed the room in a blueish-white light. However, when the light reflected off the runes, they would glow - or reflect, I wasn't sure - a blue haze.

It was gorgeous.

What was even more gorgeous was Kristófer. He was standing at the side of the hot spring, clad only in a small towel that was wrapped around his waist. His broad chest was covered in a layer of sandy blond hair, and his muscular legs were visible. The towel only covered down to mid thigh, and I was very much enjoying the view. He was hot. And for the first time in a few months, I actually felt myself get a little wet. This young guy was turning me on. I better get into the spring before he notices.

"It's the rule that if anyone is in the hot spring or the lake, either Inga or I have to be present. If you don't mind, I'd like to join you," he mentioned casually, like it was totally normal for him to be naked with me in a hot spring. Well, actually, it probably was to him. But still.

"Uh, sure. I wouldn't mind the company," I told him.

He nodded to me before letting his towel drop.

My jaw dropped along with it.

Kristófer's body was well sculpted. He looked like he ran three kilometres every morning. His shoulders were well defined, and he didn't have those abs that athletes had. He was a lot fuller around the middle, though he still tapered before his hips. He had the body of a man who took care of himself, without being a gym rat. I caught myself looking at his dick as well. It was thick, and hung outwards from his body in that not-quite-erect state that men get. He clearly trimmed his patch of sandy blond pubic hair. He paid no mind to me ogling him as he lowered himself down into the steaming water, letting out a sigh of appreciation as he sat back against the ledge.

"So, no pressure, but the hot spring feels utterly fantastic after a day of travelling," he said to me.

Well Lucille, it's now or never. I let the towel drop to the floor and walked towards the hot spring.

It was carved into the bedrock, and steam poured off the water. There were several stairs carved into the pool to allow oneself to step into the pool without slipping. I stepped onto the first step, submerging my legs almost up to my knees. The water was warm. It was easily as warm as a hot tub that you'd find in any standard hotel, but the water here felt... softer, if that was possible. I lowered the rest of my body into the water, finding a small bench installed against the ledges of the rocky pool.

I settled into the pool and sat myself on one of the submerged benches. The water came up just over my breasts to sit in the middle of my chest. It left my head, neck and shoulders exposed to the cooler air in the inn's basement. Kristófer was right, this felt absolutely divine.

Kristófer was sitting directly across from me. He had his head leaned back, with his eyes closed. I was not certain if he was in the mood to talk, or if he simply wanted to relax. However, he gave me an answer to that question almost immediately after I had thought about it.

"So, Lucille, what brings you to Finland, alone in October?"

Ordinarily, I'd take offence at being asked about my affairs by a young guy like that. But based on his tone and our state of relaxation, I figured that he meant no offence by it. Besides, I'd be staying at his inn for the week. It certainly couldn't hurt to make some polite conversation.

"That's a tough one. My sister booked this trip for me so that I could clear my head, and live a little. I had a pretty rough day, and we decided - after several bottles of wine - that this was a great course of action."

I laughed at the absurdity of the situation. There was no way that was a standard response.

"At least it will give me time to focus on myself. And who knows, maybe I'll even get a chance to read a book or two while I'm here!" I added, with a bit of cheer in my voice.

Kristófer leveled his head and opened his eyes. It was then that I noticed just how blue that they were. I had heard the stereotype of the blond-haired and blue-eyed Nordic people before, but Kristófer was something else entirely. His eyes were a cerulean blue that looked like the pale blue ice of a glacier. I couldn't explain it, but his eyes looked like he had walked from one side of the world to the other and back again. They were completely out of place on a man as young as him.

He interrupted my reverie by sighing wistfully.

"Well Lucille, I hope you find what you're looking for here. Tomorrow, I'll give you a deep tissue massage to help get you in the mood. Then if you're up for it, we can go for a hike around Dragon's Hearth Lake. It's the perfect spot to reflect on what you've done with your life, and what you'd love to do with the time you have left."

Wow, okay, that was profound for a sales pitch. This guy took this stuff seriously.

"Oh, and if you'd like to read before going to bed, you're welcome to sit in the foyer by the fire. We have some very old classics there if you've never read them. Tolstoy, Dumas, Hugo, Shelley, and a few others. There's something there for every taste," he added.

We sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments. I sat appraising the attractive man sitting across from me, bathed in the warming blue light of the glowing runes carved into the walls of the rocky walls. I found his earlier talk to be pleasant, and decided to keep the conversation going.

"So, tell me about yourself, Kristófer. What's a young fellow like you doing owning a spa?" I asked, a little more inquisitively than I intended.

"I'm watching the place for a friend. I took over ownership after she had an... unforeseen accident. Her family and I have been watching it ever since. It's become something of an heirloom, so to speak."

"So, do you live here?" I asked.

"I do. Inga and I both have a room here. It's as much home to me now as anywhere else."

Well, that answered a lot. And left me with even more questions. Before I could ask a follow-up, Kristófer beat me to it.