Fated to the Viking Lord

Instead, he merely turned his head towards me and gave me another of his confusing answers.

"If you must know, I learned Latin when I was in the Vatican. I was looking for something, and it was the only way to talk to people."

I stood in silence for a few moments. Pastry school in France. Massage school in Russia. Owning a Swedish spa in Finland, and now access to the Vatican? Precisely who was this man? Why was he lying to me about his age, and who he was? My brain couldn't comprehend any other reason for his responses.

"Kristófer, why did you lie to me?"

"Lucille, I have never lied to you. I honestly don't think I would be capable of it if I tried."

"No twenty-two-year-old has gone to school in Russia, France AND the Vatican while owning a spa. It doesn't happen! So, how old are you really? And is Kristófer really your name?"

He looked at me pensively for a few moments. Then he grinned. Not a malicious or sly grin, but one of appreciation and curiosity.

"Alright, Lucille. I'll tell you how old I am. I'll even tell you what led me to Russia. And Rome. And France. And all the other places that I have been to. But you have to promise me one thing first."

"And what is that?" I asked.

"You have to join me in the hot spring first. If you like the answers, you get a nice leisurely soak and a wonderful evening in your vacation. If you can't handle the answers I give, I'll send you back to Québec tomorrow. With a full refund, of course."

That seemed like a good deal to me. I pulled my shirt over my head, and unclipped my bra, letting him once again see my naked breasts. This time, rather than remain impartial, he eyed me up appreciatively. When I pulled down my sister's stretchy pants, he once again saw my underwear. At least this time, my yellow panties had some lace on them. But they were still very plain. I decided that if he was going to bare himself to me, I would do the same. I put both hands on the waistline of my panties and pulled down, exposing my full body to him. Looking into his face, he greedily drank in my curves and my red bush. I stepped into the hot spring slowly, and sank down, letting the water flow overtop of my body.

I sat opposite to Kristófer. I wanted to look at him directly while he recounted his tale. Some of my adversarial lawyer tricks were hard to break indeed. We both looked at one another, maintaining constant eye contact. His cerulean eyes were staring right into my own. It was thrilling, arousing and a little intimidating.

"So, Kristófer. Start from the beginning. Tell me everything."

Chapter V: Some things are better left unsaid.

Kristófer appraised me with his ocean blue eyes. Something inside him had changed. He wasn't trying to guard or cloak his responses.

"I'll tell you a story, Lucille. I'd like you to listen, and reserve judgement until the end. Can you promise me that you'll do that?" he asked.

I nodded in affirmation.

"My name is Kristófer Randvér. I was born on a farm in Jämtland right around the Christianization of Sweden. To you, that would be around 1080 AD. I never knew my parents. I knew they were peasants, of a sort. Growing up, I was the ward of a nobleman named Nils. His son, Gunnar Nilsson, is the reason why I am here before you today.

You see, back then in what you called the dark ages, there were a lot of things that people couldn't understand. It's not that they didn't try, it's that they weren't meant to understand. The fairies in the woods, the Valkyries in the heavens; all those things are not for mortal men to understand. And yet the man who raised me never stopped trying.

He was a noble in an upstart kingdom called Sweden. It was poor, backwards, and isolated in the North. But Finland was right across the Gulf of Bothnia, and every summer we raided their villages, and brought them under our banner through force of arms.

That's what led us here. To this very escarpment. You see, there was rumours of a dragon living here. Nobody had ever seen a dragon before, and many of the good Christian men under Nils thought it was a fool's errand. But here, nestled underneath the rocks, we found an eternal spring. There are no fault lines here, Lucille. This isn't Iceland. The water here is not salty, or sulfuric. It simply is. It's the dragon itself heating it, eternally.

Every dragon hoards a treasure, or so we believed. When we arrived here in search of the dragon two years after the turn of the century in 1102, all we found was a single ring. The ring was made of pewter, something that was much less valuable than gold or silver. It was inscribed with the symbols of the sun, the river, and animals' everlasting. Supposedly, it was created and blessed by the followers of Vagdavercustis, a goddess so ancient that her existence pre-dates the Nordic pagans like my parents.

I found the ring. I read the inscription, and put it on. But it was not for me. I gave it to my Lord Nils, who claimed it as his own. He wore it proudly, and never took it off. Then he changed. He cast out his son Gunnar, and lashed out at everyone. He stopped eating, drinking and sleeping. His eyes changed to the colour of pure gold. Then one day, ranting about how only a dragon slayer could stop him, and that none existed in the realms across the sea, he disappeared. He left the land here to his son, Gunnar, who remained my closest friend until his dying days. We never saw his father again.

However, the ring had changed me, just as it had changed Nils. I never aged a day from the moment that I put on the ring. I watched Gunnar die an old man with many children. His last request was that I watch over the Dragon's Hearth to make sure that nobody else fell into the same trap that his father and I did. It's why I built the manor here.

Then, around a century after Gunnar's death, when nobody in the Kingdom of Sweden had heard my name anymore, I heard a rumour from a merchant about a man claiming to be a Dragon living with the Rus to the East. So, I set out in search of Nils, hoping to make things right by confronting my former Lord.

For more than three decades I lived among the Rus. I lived in Novgorod, and Pskov and Kiev. I learned their ways, and travelled their rivers in search of a dragon. But I never found him. I always returned here to this spot. I had built a small homestead here, and have always kept my word to Gunnar.

Then, I heard more rumours that fit the description of the man I sought. I travelled to Rome, to speak to those who ran the grandest libraries and universities of the era. In the renaissance, everyone thought that all knowledge was stored in Rome. They may have been right, especially after Byzantium fell to the Turks. But they did not have the knowledge that I sought. I spent several decades trying. First in Rome, then in Naples, then in Venice. I read as many books as I could, hoping that someone would have seen Nils. It was as if he had disappeared.

While I have always considered this spot home, or as close to a home as I can have, I have lived many places and seen the things that a man with nothing but time and youth has seen. I've spent considerable time in Persia, and Russia after it unified under the Tsars. I've wandered the streets of Prague, Budapest and Vienna. I have studied in Athens, when it was toiling under the ministrations of the Ottomans. I made wine in Spain, and sampled spices in Morocco. And I spent almost an entire lifetime in France, where I learned to bake.

It's also where I learned the true, tortuous extent of this curse. In France, I fell in love with a woman who wanted to be an author. Her name was Berthe. She was the first person in several centuries who knew the truth about me. We were young, and we fell in love. But I could never give her what she wanted. She wanted a family, and while I was ever living, I could never give life myself. So, I had to let her go. In my heart, I knew that I would only ruin her if I stayed. I remained in France to watch her career blossom. She wrote several books. I own the original copy of each one here in my library, and she has signed them all with the same message. She married a handsome fellow from Nantes just before the war with the Prussians. They had quite a few children together, and they lived a happy life.

That led me back here, once again. By that point, I had erected a manor house here, and was living in it alone. Until the Russian Empire collapsed just after the First World War. When I went into town to purchase wheat one day, a young Swedish-Finnish couple were at a market stall. The woman could have easily been a clone of Gunnar. I asked her what her name was, and she replied that it was Ulrika. I probed deeper, and after taking her and her husband back here to my manor for tea, she confessed that they were impoverished and starving. She was ready to sell herself to me if it meant a warm bed and a hot meal. Instead, I took her to this hot spring, and had her and her husband tell me about themselves.

It was there I learned that she was a long-lost descendant of my friend Gunnar. I took her and her husband into my employ, and since that date, a member of her family has been working here. Even when there was nothing to do, I kept a member of that family on staff here, as my way of paying off my debt to my long-lost friend.

Inga is their great-great-granddaughter, if my math adds up.

I've been looking for a dragon slayer, or a dragon, or Nils and his ring to see if I could end this curse for nearly a millennium. I've seen empire's rise and fall, and my friends die off around me. And I have never had the chance to have a wife and family of my own. That was all taken from me."

I could not tell if he was proud of his story, or if he was melancholic. Perhaps it was both. Throughout the entire story, I sat in awe. I watched his cerulean eyes scan from one rune on the wall to another, as if they guided him in his story. Maybe they did. When he was done, Kristófer closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the ledge.

"So, there you have it, Lucille Lafontaine. The story of the man who sits before you."

I was sad for Kristófer. I don't know if it was the story of Berthe, or that he wanted children but was denied the chance. I could relate. I was not sure if I believed his story. But I could absolutely relate.

"Thank you for telling me," I started. None of this made any sense. I had an MBA. I had a degree in law. I could pick apart a witness on the stand and find truth without error. I was a science geek. None of this made any literal sense. And yet, his delivery, his accuracy, and the light in his eyes made me believe him. I wanted to believe him.

"It couldn't have been easy. I know all too well the pain of having something pulled away from you that you wanted because of someone else. I wanted kids too, Kristófer. I really, really did. But Luke told me it would slow me down at the firm. Now I know that he just didn't want to have them with me."

Kristófer nodded. His eyes flickering in the reflection of the glowing runes around the granite walls of the hot spring.

"He's an awful man, Lucille," Kristófer started before pausing with a sigh.

"I've become quite good at reading people over the years. People don't change. This man clearly used you for his own ends. He was unfaithful because he did not respect you. You deserve respect. Every woman does. Don't let his errors be the end of your desires. You have every right to chase your own dreams and fulfill your own desires. Don't let him be an obstacle. You're far too smart, beautiful and wonderful to be stymied by such a man."

After that comment we sat in silence as the blue lights flickered around the room. I looked into his eyes, and he looked into mine.

I decided that he was telling the truth. It made no sense to me, and perhaps it was because I was still riding my orgasmic high from earlier, but I believed him.

"I believe you, Kristófer," I softly announced.

He stopped for a moment, looking at me with his deep blue eyes, as if appraising me. Then he stood up, revealing his naked body in all its glory. Being a thousand-year-old man trapped in the body of a twenty-two-year-old certainly had some advantages. He made no effort to cover himself from me as he stepped out of the hot spring.

"Thank you for listening Lucille," he said to me as he took a towel and wrapped it around his waist.

Leaving me alone to soak with my thoughts, Kristófer took his leave. I could hear his wet feet plodding up the steps to his room where the staircase turned from stone bricks to hard granite, right beside Inga's room.

I sat in the hot spring, letting my body relax in its warmth. Kristófer was absolutely right. This spring had no minerals in the water, it was simply hot lake water that was coming into the rocks. It made no sense, and my legal and analytical brain was screaming at me that this was utterly wild. It didn't matter, I believed Kristófer. I knew he was telling the truth. Maybe it was the glittering runes, or maybe it was the fact that I had an epiphany today about myself overlooking the majestic Nordic wilderness, but I knew that he was truthful. I also knew that I felt something between us.

It was more than the sexual tension of an orgasmic massage, but dear God, I could absolutely go for that again. I felt that him and I were connecting. Our conversation on the escarpment was enlightening, and I felt safe, secure and vulnerable with him. I felt that I could share my hopes and dreams with a man who a few days ago I had never heard of. It was more than I had felt with Luke in nearly two decades.

I was tired of denying myself. I was a woman, who had value, and who had desires. I had supressed that for decades in the hope that a man - a grumpy, older, sexist and mean-spirited man - would love me back. I was ready to move on. And I was ready to move on with another man. It had only been two days since I had caught that fucking man cheating. I wanted to do something for myself.

I stood up and stepped out of the hot spring. I grabbed a towel and dried myself off quickly. I let my red hair down past my shoulders, and shook it out. For the first time, I felt that my few grey hair made me fee more distinguished, rather than old and useless.

I let the towel drop to the floor, and kicked it over towards my pile of clothes that I had left by the entrance. I wouldn't need either my clothing or my towel for what I was about to do.

Even throughout university, I had never been so brazen and reckless before. Usually, it was the job of a man to clumsily seduce a woman. Then some dispassionate and utterly unsatisfying sex could occur. But I knew that Kristófer wasn't going to be like that. Not after the massage he gave me. Not after the way he looked at me on our hike. I knew that if he felt the way I felt - like there was something happening between us - that this was going to be alright.

I stepped slowly out of the rocky granite cavern that housed the hot spring, and moved in the blue light towards the stairwell. I passed Inga's room, which was thankfully unoccupied, until I reached the last door before the stairwell.

I rapped softly at the door, praying that Kristófer would answer immediately. Every single nanosecond that I spent naked and alone in the cold hallway felt like an eternity. It must have only been a few seconds, but when I heard the solid oak door begin to open, my heart leapt into my throat.

What if I had totally misread this whole situation? What if he's not interested? What if what I am feeling is just trauma from Luke?

All those thoughts were immediately banished from my head when Kristófer opened the door fully and stood before me in nothing but a pair of very tight boxer briefs that showed off a nicely sized bulge.

I hadn't thought of anything to say. My brain hadn't processed what would happen in the interloping seconds between when he opened the door, and what would come afterwards. Thankfully, he saved me once again by speaking first.

"You feel it too, don't you, Lucille. A connection," he said to me in a voice that was partly quivering with trepidation, and partly oozing with sexual innuendo.

I nodded in the affirmative. I reached out and took his hand in mine. I wanted only to touch him in that moment. When our hands collided, it was like electricity was shooting through my hand.

He put his other hand on my shoulder and pulled me into the room, using his leg to close the door behind us. When it had shut, he stroked my hair, pushing it off my face before staring into me with his deep blue eyes.

"I don't know what it is, Lucille, but I felt something today with you. Nature felt it. My ravens felt it. You were meant to come here."

"I do. I feel like... this is magnetic."

I didn't mention the raven thing. A lot of this still didn't make sense. I didn't want to push it. But I was certain that I would bring that up again.

He bent down and pushed his lips against me, embracing me in a kiss. I moaned, and pushed myself against him. My breasts smashed against his hard chest and its fine layer of sandy blond hair. I wrapped both my arms around his broad shoulders, letting him carry me.

He placed one hand behind my head, and the other at the small of my back, taking me in his warm embrace. We made out while standing up for a few moments before I decided that I wanted to take things further. I locked my hands together and stepped towards the large bed that he had in the corner. Kristófer got the message, and with both hands on my back, effortlessly picked me up and put me down on the bed.

He stood in between my legs, before dropping to his knees in front of me. I knew what he wanted to do, and I couldn't wait to feel what was going to happen. I had heard from my girlfriends and colleagues that oral sex was supposed to feel great, but had never (ever) had it performed on me. Luke thought that it wasn't a man's place to do it, and that it smelled funny. Kristófer evidently had no such reservations.

I leaned back against the bed as he pushed my legs up. He put one hand on each thigh and held my legs up and apart so that my knees were beside my breasts on my chest. Then he asked a question that sent my heart fluttering.

"Lucille, may I taste you?" he asked, his voice suddenly dripping with desire.

I had read before that a lot of men struggled with consent, and how to make it sexy. Well, fuck those people. That line was the single hottest thing I had ever heard.

"Yes Kristófer. Taste me," was all I said before I gasped for air.

His tongue made contact with my pussy, and tentatively explored my passage. He licked upwards and gently teased my clitoris, before sliding his tongue down towards my perineum. He made love to my pussy, taking my clitoris into his mouth and even going so far as to penetrate me with his tongue. I was wantonly moaning, and was close to orgasm again. Then he brought one hand to my vagina. He sucked two of his fingers before inserting them into my pussy, making a gentle come-hither motion on my g-spot. When he brought his mouth back to my clitoris and gently sucked, I came hard.

I had never been one to vocalize my orgasms. That was largely because I had mostly had them in the bathroom sitting on the side of the bathtub while Luke slept after sex, and I didn't want to wake him up and give him a complex. Maybe I should have. I mewled pathetically as I came. I felt my essence leaking out of me in abundance. If today on the massage table had been a flood, I was currently a monsoon.

I put my hands onto his head, and gently pulled up. He got the message immediately, and ceased his ministrations. Moving his body upwards until his face was level with mine, I looked over his body. His face was slick with my lubrication, and he looked incredibly sexy covered in me. I felt like a predator that had marked her territory. I now understood the appeal of being a cougar.