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The Jarl & The Oracle

By Mantrid Brizon

(03/24/2020)

Many centuries ago, in the frigid lands of the Norse, a little village sat within a modest clearing. This clearing was only just big enough for the clan that inhabited it; nothing more than a mead hall, a half dozen longhouses and some farmland to support them. It was an uneventful and uninspiring place, and the nameless clan of less than two-hundred, including women and children, spent each day the same as the last. They pass by, one into the next, and none any more interesting than the day before it. However, this was about to change...

Standing atop the rocks on the side of a rather miniscule mountain, a lone wanderer watches them. Humans wander about, performing their chores as they should. None notice the being atop the mount, silently overseeing them. With lips curled around a short, blocky snout, the wanderer fastens their animal hide cloak, grips their staff and begins to walk. The chilly, northern wind forms waves in the soft fur of their cloak and ruffles their hair. As the being moves nearer to the village, young children are the first to take notice. Though they were chasing each other about, they pause to watch the lone wanderer walking by.

A man cutting wood beside the outermost longhouse pauses, while a woman seated near him, likely his wife, sews a garment. They watch intently, their heads following the stranger as they pass by without a care in the world. Voices whisper, and another man holds an iron sword. He hesitates to use the weapon as the wanderer feels the ground before their feet with the bottom of their staff. Moving directly through the center of the village, the stranger acts as if no one else is there, humming a faint tune. Villagers cock their heads, looking amongst each other with confusion.

The stranger passes two of the six homes, walking ever closer to the mead hall, the centerpiece of the village. Emerging from behind the mead hall, several young men, likely between the ages of fifteen and eighteen, chase after another boy. He cradles an object in his arms.

“Get that sorry bastard!" A boy commands the others.

Looking back, the blonde-haired young man trips on a tree root that emerges from the ground. Falling forward, he lands atop the grass with a hard thud. The object flies from his arms, landing in the grass and rolling away.

“Give it back you thief!"

“But I made it, Sune!" The blonde-haired youth replies.

“And I'm the son of the warlord! I desired it, and so it became mine!" Sune replies.

“And if I tell your father?!"

Seeing the rage in his adversary's face, the blonde-haired young man scrambles away from the gang.

“Don't run away, you coward! If you want it back, you'd better fight for it!" Sune shouts.

The others give chase, racing down the hillside to catch him. Just as they grab him, pushing him to the ground, one of the youths looks for the artifact. He pauses as he finds it lying at the feet of a stranger.

“Who're you?!"

“Hm?"

The others finally halt their attack, leaving the craftsman lying in the grass on his side, his lip split and bleeding. The youngest of the group approaches the stranger, who feels the ground with the bottom of their staff. Tap, tap. The staff strikes the exquisitely carved, wooden sword. Cocking her head, the Voeldahn glances down. With milky eyes, she appears to be blind, staring in whatever direction her blocky, canine snout is pointing. Her hair, as black as coal, has a glossy sheen. With trimmed bangs, the rest of her hair is quite long, being pulled into a pair of thick braids that drape over her shoulders. They reach past her breasts, which appear to be of considerable size.

“That's mine." The youth remarks, staring at the stranger.

“Is it?"

The other boys gather around, as do many men and women of the clan. With a cloak of white and brown fur, the Voeldahn woman's figure is well hidden, though she appears well-built. She looks quite young, likely not a day over twenty. The fur on her hands and ears is exceedingly dark, but lighter than her black hair, while her face is covered in a short coat of gray fur. Colored like a wet stone, it's soft looking and speckled with several dark spots on her cheeks and beneath her eyes, which are also shrouded in dark fur. At five-foot-seven, she's as tall as any man among them, and towers over the women, who average five-foot-one.

With articles of clothing and a staff bearing strange carvings, none of them runes, it's obvious that she's not from their lands, nor anywhere surrounding them. Still, she speaks their language. Picking up the sword, the young man looks curiously at the Voeldahn woman, whose snout follows him. With a raised brow, he holds up a hand, waving it before her face. She doesn't blink or follow his hand, merely standing in silence. A door shuts, causing her long, wolf-like ears to twitch. She turns her attention toward the sound, as do the young men. Emerging from the mead hall, the village's warlord stands at the door.

He narrows his eyes at the woman, approaching with sword in-hand. She shows no fear, but at this point, that doesn't surprise anyone.

“Who are you, and what are you doing in my village?" He asks in a deep, bellowing voice.

“I am Astrid, and I am simply a humble traveler."

“Then we have no interest in sheltering you."

“Yes, you do." Astrid replies.

“Excuse me?!" The warlord looks surprised.

“You have need of my services, I'm sure."

“Well, unless you'd like to bend over or kneel down for me..." He smirks.

The other villagers chuckle at his crude humor.

“Do not mock the gods' messenger."

The villagers fall silent.

“I am an Oracle, and I can commune with the ancestors. Sometimes I even learn truths from the gods themselves. Would you like to hear what they have to say?"

The villagers look amongst themselves, then at their warlord.

“Why would the gods speak to a blind woman? What good could you do with their knowledge?"

“Not all sight is with the eyes. Mental strength is as important as physical strength, and I am very strong." Astrid replies.

With his curiosity peaked, the warlord invites Astrid into his mead hall, offering her food and drink. The gang of youths follow behind the warlord and his men, who pour into the mead hall. Everyone is curious about the stranger and her otherworldly knowledge. A woman approaches the fallen craftsman, offering her hand to him.

“Leave me alone, mother!" He snarls.

“Don't be that way, Halvar." She replies.

Storming off, Halvar walks through the farmlands, nursing his split lip with a sleeve of his tunic. He leaves the safety of the village, entering the woodlands and finding the grave of his father. Sitting beside the grave, he rambles to himself and the headstone. Time passes, and inevitably the young man grows hungry. Finally leaving the forest, he returns to the village just as twilight looms. Entering the longhouse that he inhabits, it's home to his mother and two smaller families. There, he finds them preparing a large meal for everyone inside. Unsurprisingly, all they can speak of is the Oracle.

“I wonder what that Oracle is up to. I don't trust anyone with the power to speak to the ancestors, let alone the gods themselves." An old man remarks.

“She's such a strange creature." A woman comments.

“Of course! She's Voeldahn! A step away from the beasts!" A man snickers.

“The Voeldahn don't seem all that different to me. They have bodies like ours, walk on two legs and speak." Another man interjects.

“And that's not even what I meant. I just meant that she seemed... Different." The woman retorts.

“Well, she's also blind."

“I don't know. I can't explain it, but she bothers me..."

“Maybe you have a sixth-sense?" The old man teases.

“Skarde said that she gave readings all day, starting with the warlord, his family and then his men and their families. She insisted that each reading be private, and that they never share what she told them with anyone, lest they anger the gods." A young woman adds.

“I think that would be rather nice, to know your future. It would certainly make planning things easier! What about you, Halvar?" His mother turns to him.

“Right now, I'm far more concerned about the sword than my future." Halvar answers.

“It was made of wood. I mean, you can always carve another." The old man interjects.

“That's not the point! I began carving it with my father! There won't be another like it. Not ever..."

“Well, maybe the Oracle will give you good news to make up for it?" The young woman chirps.

“What do you mean?"

“Skarde also said that the Oracle would give readings to anyone in the village who wanted them. She only asked for a tent to perform them in, and supplies while she's here." The young woman explains.

“She isn't charging?!" The old man gasps.

“Not that I was told... Is that bad?" The young woman raises a brow.

“I don't know... Usually people want payment for their work, and especially for things like that."

After finishing their dinner, Halvar tries to sleep, but his anger over the loss of his wooden sword burns within him. Eventually, however, he succumbs to his own exhaustion. The next day, he awakens from a dreamless sleep, only to find the longhouse all but deserted. Emerging from within, he looks for the others who live with him. Scanning the horizon, he can see the warlord and his men. They erect a tent away from the mead hall and the longhouses, near the edge of the village, hammering the stakes into the ground. Beside them stands the Oracle, her staff in hand.

She's statuesque, unmoving as they work. The entire village watches, eager to meet the mysterious woman, who by now has been on everyone's tongue. Moving through the crowd, Halvar makes his way to the furthest edge. He stands away from the others, solitary, as he often is. The wind blows, and the Oracle turns her face toward the sky. She turns with the wind, an ear facing the breeze. She turns her head and opens her eyes. Her milky orbs stare directly at Halvar. He's briefly taken aback by the sight. Though she's blind, she appears to smile at him. Can she sense his presence?

Others take notice, with several villagers looking toward Halvar and then back at the Oracle. Once the tent is erected, the warlord announces Astrid's purpose; she serves the gods and the ancestors as their voice, sharing the information that they desire the mortals know. Any who seek her words of wisdom are welcome to listen, free of charge. Unsurprisingly, the entire village is abuzz, and many line up to speak with the Oracle. To Halvar's surprise, she seems to watch him with her unseeing eyes. He steps back, staying away from the others as they gather. For a brief moment, Astrid looks disappointed.

However, turning her attention to the first in the line, she ushers them inside. Using her staff and her free hand to feel her way, she slips into her tent, just behind the young woman. Halvar considers getting in line, but after a moment, he turns away. His mother watches him as he enters the longhouse. With her place in line ahead of the middle, she wonders if she should leave to speak to her son. However, she quickly decides that speaking to the Oracle would be better. She should be able to help her. Person after person, man after woman, the Oracle consults with the villagers, and eventually, it's her turn.

She enters the tent, pausing as she looks upon the Voeldahn woman, the blind Oracle that she's heard so much about. Seated beside a small firepit, freshly dug for her tent, her hide cloak is bunched up behind her. Her bushy, wolf-like tail, the same color as the fur on her hands, feet and ears, protrudes from beneath her hide cloak. She seems to stare at the firepit. Reaching out a clawed hand, and without every turning her head away from the crackling flames, Astrid motions to her to come closer.

“So... Forgive me, Oracle, but I don't know how this works."

“That's fine. Please, sit."

Halvar's mother sits across from the Oracle, a little fire crackling in the small pit between them. Astrid's milky eyes stare at her, a little smile on her face. The silence unnerves her, but she doesn't know what to say or do. She merely stares back at the Oracle. Astrid cocks her head.

“What is your name?"

“Thyra, Oracle."

“Pretty!"

“Thank you... So, do you know my future?"

“Yes... But you aren't really here to learn about yourself. You're here for your son."

Thyra freezes. Astrid's tail begins to sway, bouncing from side to side.

“How old is he?"

“Shouldn't you already know that?" Thyra raises a brow.

“The gods and ancestors don't tell me everything; I only know what's important, and his age only satisfies my curiosity." Astrid replies.

“He's eighteen, Oracle."

“Interesting..."

Astrid faintly grins, resting a glossy, ebony claw on her chin. She closes her milky eyes and tilts her head back, turning a wolf-like ear toward the ceiling of her tent.

“The gods tell me that he is one who stands alone."

“Yes, he's... Not like everyone else." Halvar's mother murmurs.

“Their voices drew me toward him. Do not fear; his destiny is glorious."

“It... It is?!" Thyra gasps.

“Yes."

Astrid opens her blind eyes, turning her head toward Thyra.

“But understand that one can turn away from their destiny; it's like a new road, with undefined edges. If he isn't careful and he veers from the path, he won't attain it, and his road is very particular..."

“What do you mean, Oracle?!"

“Please, call me Astrid... If I tell you his destiny, will you help him achieve it?"

“Yes!"

“Even if it might offend you in some way?"

“He's my son. I want what's best for him." Thyra insists.

“Good..." Astrid's grin widens.

Sitting alone in the longhouse with only his thoughts, Halvar whittles another large piece of wood, continuing his work on an ornate club. It was to be the second weapon he would make with his father, before the fever took him. After some time, his housemates begin to trickle inside. All anyone can talk about is the Oracle and their readings. Though she swears everyone to secrecy, some can't help but share what little they were told. Halvar is struck by how vague the information was, but doesn't dwell on it. The gods are mysterious, and the ancestors have left this world; perhaps they simply cannot share more?

It isn't until his mother returns that he carries a conversation with anyone, especially about the Oracle. To his irritation, his mother urges him to visit Astrid, all but begging him to meet with the Oracle. Finally, after his patience has run dry, he agrees to the meeting. He's urged to visit her that very night. A knot forms in his stomach as the darkness looms. Why did she insist on seeing him after sundown? With Thyra literally pushing him, she shoves Halvar out of the door, barring the longhouse door behind him. He takes a deep breath and begins the short hike, walking by light of the full moon toward the Oracle's tent.

He feels shaken as he stands before the tent, listening to the fire crackling within. The Oracle's body casts a shadow on the wall of the tent; he can see her sitting upright and motionless, staring at the fire. He gulps and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Why is he so nervous? He's a man! He grows emboldened and barges into the woman's tent. She doesn't startle, sitting perfectly still.

“Well, now... You've finally come, Halvar."

“H-how did you know my name?!"

“I was beginning to think that you wouldn't come, but then I should've known better than to question the gods." She continues.

Sitting on the ground, behind the small firepit, the crackling flames illuminate the tent. The blind Voeldahn woman motions with a hand, silently commanding the young human to sit.

“Why am I here?" Halvar asks.

“Don't you wish to hear your destiny?" Astrid cocks her head.

“Do I even have one?" He quietly snickers.

“Oh yes, and it's... Interesting."

The blind woman grins, her lips curling sinisterly as she stares at the small fire between them. Dread swiftly fills the young man's heart. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst.

“Alright." He slowly exhales. “Tell me my destiny. What is it the gods want me to know?"

“Your destiny... Lies with me, Halvar." The Oracle begins.

“I don't understand, Oracle." He cocks his head.

“You are to become the warlord. Eventually, you will be a Jarl, a great and powerful ruler, with much land and many sons and daughters to claim it as inheritance. Your sons will be mighty warriors, worthy of song. Your daughters will be equally exceptional. They'll be excellent women, wonderful mothers, but also strong; they'll be able to best any man currently in your village, earning themselves only the finest warriors as their husbands, and it all begins with you and I."

“... Are you sure you don't have the wrong man, Oracle?" He asks, left dumbfounded by her words.

“I have the right man." She grins.

“But I'm not the strongest or the fastest, neither am I the most capable hunter, fisherman or even farmer! I carve wood, and lose fights to boys three years younger than me!"

“The gods have spoken to me, Halvar, and they are not wrong. You know this. Did you hear my words when I spoke with your warlord?"

“Yes." He nods.

“Then you know that not all strength is in the arm or back. You aren't one of many, like the ants on a hill; you stand alone. You are a soaring eagle, Halvar. The gods respect this spirit. You don't give yourself enough credit. Soon, your current chieftain will die, and being so young, his heir won't be ready. You will best him in combat, and this clan will be yours for the taking, Halvar. You will have your revenge on your warlord's son, and you will lead these people with ease. The time has come for you to step up, young warrior. No more doubts in your abilities. You must be ready."

“Alright... What are we to do?" How will we carry out the gods' will?" He asks, pensively scratching his modest beard.

“We are to become one."

“... What?" His eyes grow wide.

“I am to be your first wife, Halvar. I am to take you into my body, accept and carry your seed, and birth your children. I will have the honor to birth your firstborn son, the first of many to inhabit your Kingdom, which you will build. He too will be an honorable man, a warrior of great skill and cunning."

“A-and when are we to do this?" The young warrior somewhat sheepishly asks her.

“Tonight. Right now." Her grin grows ever wider.

“Oh... I-I, uhm, I haven't... That is to say-"

“You've never enjoyed the splendor of a woman?" The Oracle giggles.

“Well..." He lowers his head in shame. “Some chieftain, right?... Perhaps the gods have mistaken me for another Halvar?"

“Nonsense. It is you they've chosen. Don't worry, Halvar. I'll be your guide." She coos.

Leaning back, the Oracle allows her fur cloak to fall open, revealing the elegant form of her nude body beneath it. Like her face, her entire body is covered in dark gray fur, a color akin to a wet, river stone. Nearly black dots decorate her body, speckling her chest, sides and back. It also covers her feet, ankles, hands and wrists, like a well-tailored set of hide boots and gloves. He gazes upon her form, his eyes widening even more, and his jaw slowly dropping. Though at first, he's shocked by the turn of events. However, he quickly finds himself taken by her wonderfully pleasing body.

He quickly discovers himself interested in her, something he never expected. He'd only ever desired human women, never the Voeldahn; the few trade caravans with Voeldahn among them never once sparked his curiosity. His lips curl at the corners, forming a faint but visible smile. The blind Oracle is certainly a sight to behold, and he'd love nothing more than to behold her. He immediately gazes upon her womanhood, unable to see anything else through his tunnel vision. The soft tuft of fur that shields her loins, resembling a human female's pubic hair, is nearly black, and clashes wonderfully with the dark gray fur of her body. It's a strangely adorable sight.

His mouth closes and his smile widens. Halvar's eyes scan her frame, moving from her loins and toward her chest. She's quite voluptuous, with a sturdy yet feminine build. Her legs are strong, her hips are broad, and a gentle slope in her waist leads to a well-built ribcage. She's a stronger female than some of the women of his clan. Crowning her chest are her ample, feminine mounds. To his astonishment they're perfectly proportioned and exceptionally large, being a plump and alluring D-cup. Shiny and smooth black flesh forms her nipples, which are considerable.

He immediately imagines himself tasting them. Her clawed hands grasp her ample breasts as she leans even further back. Lying nearly flat, she supports herself with an elbow, her body slightly canted to one side. Her free hand glides over her splendid form, her glossy, black claws combing through the tuft of her pubic fur. It comes to rest over her loins, gently pulling the excess fur away and revealing her charcoal black nether lips to him. He can feel his pulse quickening, his manhood throbbing as it grows firm. She teases him with her fingers, playing with her own clitoris.

“Don't you want your destiny?" She innocently coos.

“I do, Oracle." He nods.

“Good. Then come and take it, Halvar. Take it like the warrior you are."

Swiftly disrobing, Halvar stands in the flickering light of the fire, as naked as the day he was born. He approaches the Voeldahn woman and stands near her ankles. She stares blankly as the wall, but spreads her legs for him. Perhaps she can sense his presence? Staring intently at her loins, Halvar's manhood throbs. He watches as the Oracle pulls a finger from her vagina, the fur of her finger sticky and damp with her juices. He can smell her womanhood, her scent flooding the modest tent. Suddenly, he wonders what she tastes like.

He pauses for a moment, contemplating the action. He nearly asks her for permission, but she did tell him to take it... Stepping between her legs, he kneels down. Astrid flattens herself on the floor, lying atop a mat of straw that's covered in cloth and hide. Instead of driving his manhood deep into her loins, Halvar bends over, resting on his forearms and knees. The Oracle lifts her head and gasps as she feels the human's tongue tasting her flesh.

“Ahh! Oh... Oooohhhh. Mmm-I never expected this, Halvar." She coos.

He doesn't respond, merely lapping at her quivering pussy. She has an unusual taste, but not a displeasing one. He finds himself eagerly exploring her womanhood with his tongue. She moans and groans, and reaches out for him. Softly petting his head, her clawed fingers weave through his golden locks. His tongue glides inside of the opening to her womanhood, then pulls out only to tease her clitoris. He laps at her flesh like a dog before helping himself to her juicy pussy.

“Mmm-ooh!" She groans with pleasure. “You're actually quite good at that, for someone without experience."

“I am?" He asks, looking up at her.

“Ooohh-yes... Don't stop now! We must continue!"

“Yes, Oracle."

He licks away, stopping only to kiss her womanhood and slip a finger inside. He does it for his own curiosity, as he's never explored a woman before. Halvar loves how she feels on his flesh. Astrid writhes, gasps, moans and groans. She holds onto his head and arches her back.

“Ahh-ahh-nnff-AAAHHHH!" She squeals as she cums.

A clear fluid spurts from her vagina, startling him. He looks up at her, confused.

“You've, hhf, made me, hhf, finish." She speaks between panting.

“I have?!" He asks with glee.

“Mmm-yes." She gasps. “H-Halvar?"

“Yes, Oracle?" He leans closer.

“If you're, hhf, to be the chieftain, hhf, and I, hhf, your first wife, then you should, hff, call me, hhf, by my name; it's Astrid."

“How befitting." He remarks.

“Oh?"

“Yes. It's such a beautiful name." He coos.

Her lips curl around her blocky snout, pleased to hear such a compliment from the young man. He crawls closer, his body looming over her as he steals a kiss. He does not ask, nor does he warn her. He takes what he wants, and what he wants at that moment is Astrid. She feels something brushing her and impulsively reaches down. She gasps and pulls her hand away. For a moment, she shifts her head, turning it down, but she stops.

“W-what's that?!" She asks.

“That's me, Astrid."

“Oh... You're so much... Bigger... Than I thought you'd be." She coos, gently stroking his manhood with her fingertips.

He drags his masculine organ over the soft fur of her toned belly, dragging the underside of his shaft over her nether lips as he prepares to take her. It's all coming so naturally to him. Halvar pushes the bulbous gland of his penis against the Voeldahn's glossy, black loins. She shivers, trembling in the most adorable way. Halvar doesn't wait any longer. He gives it a gentle push. She gasps. Halvar then thrusts his throbbing manhood into her taut loins, grunting as he's overcome by the sensation of her hot, wet hole enveloping him. She clamps down on his manhood, tighter than he could ever squeeze himself.

“AHH!" Astrid squeals, before gasping and throwing her head back.

“Rrrr-yeah! Ooooohhhh-that feels good!"

“HHF! By the Gods, Halvar, hhf... You're, hhf, a very, hhf, substantial man, hhf, aren't you?!" She softly chuckles.

“I am?" He asks.

“Ahh-yes... Haven't you noticed?! He's, hhf, as big as you are, hhf." She coos.

Reaching out her hands, she feels for his face. Placing her clawed hands on his cheeks, she leans in and plants a kiss on his lips. Her blind eyes stare lifelessly at him as she pulls him down. She again lies flat on her back, kissing him deeply and passionately, their tongues fighting for dominance in each other's mouths. Unnerved by her eyes, he pulls back and kisses along her snout until he's kissing her cheek, before finally necking her, all the while, pushing the rest of his manhood deeper and deeper into Astrid's quivering body.

“Mmm-AHH! Yes! Fill me, nngf, and fulfill the prophecy! Take me, Halvar! HHF! Take me!"

He doesn't disobey the Oracle, moving his throbbing organ in a manner that feels appropriate. Acting on pure instinct, he withdraws his considerable manhood from her stretched loins, before driving himself right back into her. Over and over, in and out, he pounds his big cock into her. His flesh slaps against hers, his pink shaft burying into her black pussy. Halvar's big, full balls plop against the fur of her perfectly plump buttocks. Astrid loves every blissful second of it. Her bushy tail sways between his legs, bumping into his knees and inner thighs. She claws at his back, writhing and raving about his talents as a lover, even though she's his first.

It pleases him to know how well he's pleasuring her, increasing his own worth as a man. It does more for him than being a warrior ever could. He grunts and groans, the sweat beading on his flesh and causing it to glisten in the firelight. Astrid's fur darkens, growing increasingly damp as he works her. Over and over, in and out, he pounds the woman's tight cunt with all the strength he has. Her breasts, smooshed against his chest, subtly sway and jiggle between them. Her hard, black nipples press into his flesh, teasing him with even more signs of her peaked arousal.

Suddenly, Astrid squeals, gripping tightly to him as she climaxes. Her body arches violently, her big breasts bouncing and her toned belly pressing into his abs as she forms a slight crescent.

“AHH-BY-THE-GODS!!!" She shouts.

Astrid's womanhood convulses, and it feels as though her vagina is literally sucking on his throbbing phallus. Her pulsating flesh nearly vibrates, and the gentle ridges and waves inside of her vaginal canal are even more apparent. He struggles to hold out as he pushes his big cock into and out of her thoroughly pleasured pussy, doing his best to carry on. Plop, plop, plop. He continues to thrust into her, but his motions have slowed. Astrid gasps and groans, panting for air as her orgasm is drawn out. Halvar feels the tension building, and the swelling within his testicles is becoming too much. He doesn't have long.

After only a few more minutes of drawing out their passion, Halvar's muscles tighten, his balls pulling closer and the pressure overwhelming him.

“Ahh-ahh-ahh!" She moans.

“I'm, nngf, nearly, nngf, there!"

“Ahh-yes-ahh-ahh-don't-ahh-stop!"

He wouldn't stop, even if she asked him too; he's overwhelmed by Astrid's splendor. Her beauty is matched only by the pleasure he derives, feeling her burning hot womanhood swallowing his throbbing cock. Plop. Plop... Plop. He moves even slower, pushing his entirety into her and holding for a moment, before giving her another thrust. Astrid is driven wild by this, loving the sensation of being filled by the young man's large penis. She enjoys being full more than she enjoys the long, fast thrusts. It's too much, and she's pushed over the edge yet again.

“Nngf! Ahh-yes! Nnnnnnn! Ahh. Ahh! AHHH!!!" She exclaims.

“Nngg, rrrr, nnnnnrrrrrrRRRRAAAA!" He roars.

Wincing, he finally releases. Astrid's eyes grow wide and she screams with pleasure, feeling his copious load flowing into her fertile body. With his big cock stuffed as deeply into her pussy as it can go, he continues to push himself against her, as if he could somehow go deeper. It creates a vacuum within her loins, which seems to pull the cum from Halvar's body. Jet after powerful jet flows through her cervix and fills her fallopian tubes. For a moment, she wonders if he's inflating her belly with the incredible volume of his load.

It's all that she can bear, and her orgasm, which has been simmering ever since it began, explodes one more. Her entire form convulses as she experiences the maximum pleasure, far more than she's ever felt before. Her blind eyes roll back in her head, her toes expanding and curling on their own, and her digitigrade legs tremoring violently. It's as if she were having a seizure. Halvar was certainly the man she was looking for. Halvar isn't done, however. After taking a short break, he pulls his manhood from the Oracle's stretched pussy, which oozes his thick and potent cum.

“That... Was... Amazing!" She exclaims between gasps.

“Good. But we've only just started, Astrid. I want to tame my future wife." He says with a sinister grin.

“Huh?!"

Grabbing her ankles, Halvar closes her legs and lifts them high. He tickles her pawlike feet with a finger, before pushing them back, curling Astrid's body into a crescent. With her pussy canted, facing upward and at an angle, he grinds the underside of his slimy cock against her equally slimy, cum-drenched pussy. She writhes from the sensation, then squeals when he pulls back and stuffs his rock-hard manhood right back into her used loins. How does he have the stamina to keep going?! She gasps and groans as he holds her legs high, plowing her feminine hole to his heart's content.

Soon, however, he tires of this position and moves her legs aside. Still held together, her pussy is as tight as he can make it, which is considerable. He lay her legs to her left, rolling her onto her side. On his hands and knees, he stuffs his manhood deep into her, his balls slapping against her left ass cheek.

“Ahh-ahh! Ooohhh, Halvar! You're, ahh, so, ahh, strong!"

He leans in, silencing her with a deep, tongue-filled kiss. He takes a hand and grabs hold of one of her large breasts, fondling her feminine mound. He pinches her black nipple, causing her to briefly squeal, before resting both hands on the ground and focusing on stuffing her womanhood full of his large phallus. After a few minutes of this, he pulls away. Astrid is confused for only a moment; he rests his hands on her body and directs her onto her hands and knees. He takes his time, enjoying the feeling of her damp fur on his hands. Kneeling behind her, her grabs her tail and lifts it. Astrid feels herself flush, her head turning to the side.

“Wha-what're you doing, Halvar?" She asks him.

“Looking at her. She looks like she's enjoyed me. She so cute, all stretched out and quivering. Look at my seed dripping out!"

“Stop it..." She murmurs.

“You don't want to hear about it?!" He chuckles.

“No, Halvar... I just want to feel it." Her lips curl up, around her snout.

Taking hold of the base of his manhood, he rubs the bulbous head against her used pussy, grinding his flesh against her nether lips. After only a moment, he quite violently shoves his member right back into her, causing her to gasp and groan. Her claws dig into the dirt, and her fingers quickly follow. Her toes curl and she winces, bowing her head forward as she succumbs to the young man's pleasure. For a virgin, he's learned fast; it seems that he was born to pleasure her.

It doesn't take much time before she squirts again, and then again, and Halvar doesn't last as long either. He shoves himself against her as he cums, giving her a second, less copious load, though it's still substantial. He leans over, his sweaty chest pressing against the damp fur of her back as he empties his testis into her womanhood.

“Mmmm-you're, hhf, really eager, hhf, to fulfill your destiny, hhf, aren't you?" She coos.

“Of course... But I'm just as eager to fulfill you." He speaks sweetly, before kissing her cheek and neck.

“Ooh, you'll be a, hhf, very good husband."

Without ever pulling away, Astrid and Halvar remain locked at the loins as they flop onto their sides. With his lover held in his arms, her back against his chest, her hips are tilted and allow his manhood to comfortably fill her womanhood. After a brief rest, Halvar still doesn't lose his erection. He puts it to good use, slowly and gently swaying his hips. Astrid is shocked by how much vigor he has, though this certainly isn't an unpleasant discovery.

“Ahh-ahh-ahh-mmmm! This is, hhf, a good position, hhf, for when I'm, hhf, pregnant, hhf, with your child." She coos, looking over her shoulder at him.

“Good. Nngf, I'm, nngf, going to want, nngf, to keep enjoying, nngf, my wife, nngf, rrrr-yeah!" He growls.

Finally, he fills her with every last drop he has, ensuring that his seed will plant itself in her field. After their final round, Astrid lay in her lover's arms, filled to the brim with his potent cum. Her fertile body works hard to absorb his sperm, and the pair find themselves overcome with both mental and physical exhaustion. Awakening in the morning, Astrid can smell something cooking. She no longer feels the comfort of Halvar lying behind her, and rises atop the mat. She yawns and focuses her hearing, turning toward the firepit.

“Hello! I thought I'd make you breakfast."

“How sweet of you." She flashes a little grin.

As he presents a bowl, reaching out and gently placing it in her clawed hands, Astrid's heart flutters. Recalling her night of passion, the pleasure she derived from the young man, who was so strong and confident, she now sees another side of him. He's genteel and kind, and he even began their night by pleasuring her first. It overwhelms her brain, and she burns with a fondness that she wasn't expecting. She'd heard of this before, but never thought she'd ever experience it herself. She's growing to love him already.

They eat in silence, but Halvar insists on being near her. When her trembling hand bumps the wooden spoon just beneath her nose, missing her mouth, Halvar offers to handfeed her. Though she rejects this offer, it only serves to deepen the bond she feels for him. With any luck, he cares for her even half as much. After their meal, Halvar finally dresses himself.

“What did you tell my mother?" Halvar suddenly asks as he slips on his hide boots.

“Why do you ask?"

“She was very insistent that I come and see you last night. She begged me. I feel that if she was stronger, she'd have dragged me to your tent herself... What did you say to her?" He explains.

Astrid's lips curl into a little grin as she stares blankly at the wall.

“I told her... Everything that I told you. I revealed your destiny to her, so that she might help you realize it yourself."

“What?!"

“She sent you here already knowing what needed to be done, that you and I would become one. At first, she sounded quite stunned to know that her first few grandchildren wouldn't be human, but you may have other wives as warlord and Jarl; you could always have human children for her to fawn over. She knew the glory of your path before you did, and didn't want you to turn away from it."

“Oh... So, there's no rush going home then." He chuckles.

“No." Astrid smiles.

He leans in and kisses her, making her heart jump. It had true passion in it. Taking his leave and with a spring in his step, Halvar returns home, arriving as the others are eating breakfast.

“So, where were you all night?" The elder of the house asks.

“Out." He grins.

He looks to his mother, flashing her a warm smile. Thyra returns it, and promptly dominates the conversation, keeping the attention away from Halvar's absence. Throughout the day, Astrid gives more readings to the villagers, but as the sun sets, Halvar thinks of the Oracle. He finds himself missing her. He misses her body and the pleasures he can glean from her, but he also finds himself missing her company. Much of his thoughts are of the breakfast they shared in silence. He yearns for another moment like that. She's the first woman beside his mother who so enjoys his time.

Unable to stay away, he visits her as soon as she ends her readings for the day. Several of the villagers take notice as he slips into her tent at twilight. They can hear the carnal sounds as the pair enjoy each other, but none would say anything. They're used to couples being within earshot, and it somehow seems fitting that the outcast, Halvar, enjoys the body of the blind Oracle, Astrid, a Voeldahn and an outsider. Lying together after they've finished, Halvar is on his back with Astrid in his arms.

“Did you enjoy that?" She suddenly asks.

“Yes." He sighs with relief.

“Even what I did earlier?"

“You mean, when you used your mouth?"

“I-I tried my best, but he's quite fat." She sheepishly remarks.

“You did fine." He says, softly stroking her cheek. “The tip has most of the feeling, anyway."

“Halvar... There's something I must tell you."

“What is it, Astrid?"

“The gods have told me..."

Astrid rises up, sitting on the mat. Growing concerned, Halvar sits up with her. He reaches out a hand and places it on her shoulder, stroking her very lovingly with his thumb.

“What it is, Astrid?!" He asks, resting a hand softly upon her cheek. “You can tell me. I'm always listening."

“I know..." She rests her hand upon his. “The gods have told me that... Once I become pregnant with your child, I'll lose my second sight."

“You mean...?"

“Yes. I'll no longer be able to commune with them as I do, but as a gift for my service, they'll grant me the sight I never had, so that I may look upon our offspring, and your kingdom, with my own two eyes."

Halvar is stunned. Though the uncertainty of not knowing the future frightens him, he knows enough to ease his nerves, and the fact that Astrid, his future wife, will no longer be blind lifts his spirits. For as beautiful as she is, her eyes are unnerving; he wonders what her healthy eyes will look like.

“That's wonderful!" He exclaims, leaning in and kissing her cheek. “I'm so happy to hear that!"

“You... You are?!" She gasps.

“Yes." He softly kisses her lips. “I just hope you can handle me when you can see me... I'm quite hideous." He quips.

“You are not! I've felt your face!" She giggles. “This has made me so happy!"

She throws her arms around him, her bare breasts pushing against his glistening flesh. He holds her close, his arms around her waist, her tail swaying to and fro and brushing his forearms. She nuzzles his neck with her snout, kissing and even licking him. He returns the favor, and Astrid pushes herself against him. Soon, they're lying atop the straw mat again, but this time Astrid is on top of him. She kisses him deeply and with tongue, and soon she strokes his manhood, arousing him. His phallus stands tall and proud, the thick flesh throbbing and swaying with his heartbeat.

Swinging a leg over him, Astrid hold gently to the base of his big cock, pressing the bulbous gland against her loins. She pushes against him, slowly taking him into her body.

“NNNGGG!" He grunts as she envelopes him again.

“AHH! H-he's s-s-so fat!" She gasps, barely half of his manhood pushed into her.

“Rrrr... And you're, hhff, so tight!"

She gradually lowers herself, sitting upon his lap as she sheaths his large penis into her quivering pussy. His balls press against her plump buttocks, and soon the Voeldahn woman begins to rock and sway her hips. He reaches out, grabbing her large breasts. He takes hold of her womanly orbs, like small melons, gently squeezing and jiggling her soft mammaries. She rides him with increasing vigor, bouncing up and down and bucking her hips against him. Astrid is a master at this, swiveling her hips and bringing them to their peak within minutes.

It doesn't seem like long before she squirts on his manhood, soaking him with her fluids. How she loves his pleasure; she's never cum so fast in her life, or with as much intensity. Only moments later, she's accepting yet another load from her future husband, feeling him as he floods her with cum. The heat from his thick and gooey seed puts out the fire in her loins, relaxing her more than any potion ever could. After a loud and potent climax, Astrid lay atop her lover, her body smooshed against his, his large manhood jammed deeply inside of her trembling loins.

“Mmm-I love you, Halvar."

Astrid's milky eyes shoot open as she realizes what she'd just said. Why did she say that? She only meant to reveal her pleasure and compliment his size and skills. She lifts her head as Halvar remains silent. Suddenly, he slides his arms around her waist, holding her close as she lay atop him. He places another hand on her head, gently stroking her as he kisses her cheek over and over again, before nuzzling her.

“I love you, too, Astrid."

“Y-you do?!"

“You say I can have other wives, like the other chieftains and Jarls, but the truth is... I may not want another wife. Thyra will have to learn to adore our Voeldahn children."

Her heart burns for him and Astrid pushes herself up. Slowly rocking her hips, his manhood still buried within her, she keeps her hands planted firmly on the ground, her shoulders jutting out as she leans in and kisses him passionately on the lips. After a moment, she nuzzles his face. Though it pains her, there's something she must do.

“I'm sorry, Halvar, but you should go."

“What?! Why?!" He asks with shock.

“Be with your mother. I must prepare for when I lose my second sight."

“Oh... Are you sure I should-"

“Yes." She subtly nods.

“Alright... I'll visit you in the morning, Astrid. First thing!" He insists.

“That's fine." She smiles.

Finally climbing off of him, Astrid lay on her side, exhausted by their seemingly endless passion. Halvar slowly dresses, clearly distressed that she's sending him away. He kisses her goodbye before leaving the tent and heading home. With her smile widening, Astrid lifts her head. She turns toward the swaying tent flap, waiting for him to be far enough away. After a moment, she sits upright, and with her fingers holding open her eyelids, she tilts her head back and uses a soft, damp cloth to wipe the thin, organic film from her eyes. It sticks to the cloth, revealing her healthy, ice-blue pupils beneath.

“Hehehe. He has potential! So spirited and full of vigor, and handsome, too! And he's so... Sweet... So wonderful..."

She looks toward her mat, feeling a tinge of guilt for her deceit. The empty space now haunts her, making her shudder. Her love for him is not a lie, as her blindness was, and she already misses his presence.

“Alright, Astrid... This isn't done, yet. Now, for the next step..." She thinks quietly aloud, glancing at a pouch full of dried Belladonna berries.

The following day, the warlord falls ill. He becomes horribly delirious and runs a terrible fever. Even the shaman couldn't summon the power to save him, and as Astrid had warned, the warlord suffered a swift end. He likely thought that he would die in battle, but entry into Valhalla would not be his. Sune would not be so unfortunate. Challenged by Halvar, he's slain in the fight, cut down by Halvar's humble, iron sword. Though a competent swordsman, even at his age, Sune is bested by the craftsman. Some said that Sune moved in a sluggish manner, but it didn't matter in the end. Halvar was victorious.

Halvar quickly made a name for himself, and when Astrid's blindness was cured by the gods, her prophecies all coming to pass, the villagers were certain that he was their chosen ruler; Halvar was ordained by the gods themselves. Within days of Astrid's sight being given to her, she and Halvar married. As he'd said, Halvar took no other wives, remaining loyal to the Voeldahn woman, who bore him sons and daughters; they had seven children in all. Halvar became a strong leader, conquering many clans and allying with many more, before finally becoming a Jarl of his own lands, just as Astrid had predicted.

With her by his side, and their children gather around them, the pair lived a fruitful life, loyal to each other until the day they breathed their last, in their sleep and in each other's arms. The Jarl and the Oracle did not need Valhalla, content to sleep forever with each other, and the songs their people made ignored that minor detail. Over time, though, their songs would inevitably be overshadowed by the songs of their children, just as Astrid had predicted to her Jarl...