There was no one present inside the longhouse. The air was filled with the scent of burning wood from the firepit and the smell of food—something bubbling in a pot over the flames. On one side of the room, a fire crackled in the hearth, its glow illuminating a long table that stretched across half the house, meant for eating and gathering. Valdris ordered her daughter Frida to fetch water and clean cloths, her voice low and soft.
Gyda followed her brother as he sat on a wooden stool by the table. Valdris began undoing the ties of his bear-skin cloak over his shoulders, her fingers working with practiced ease—but lingering longer than necessary against him, feeling his shoulders.
Baldur smiled with an innocent look at Gyda, as if everything happening was beyond his doing. Gyda didn't say anything, nor did she do anything, as she also moved closer, her hands joining Valdris's as she helped peel away the leather straps, then the tunic beneath. The fabric fell away, revealing Baldur's sculpted torso—muscles rippling beneath flawless skin, the firelight making him look like something carved by the gods themselves.
Valdris bit her lower lip as she looked at Baldur's body, liking what she saw. Her breath caught as she took in his pristine skin and the muscles that filled his frame. "By the gods," she whispered, her hand lingering on his shoulder. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined."
Gyda chuckled. "It is a beautiful sight, right, Valdris?" she said as she caressed his chest and pectorals before moving slowly to his abs. "You can touch him if you want, Valdris. It feels good." Gyda mischievously added.
She wasn't troubled by sharing her brother with other women; she had long ago accepted the thought of sharing him with others, as her brother had the idea of taking more women than just her—even their mother, if he could.
Seeing that the girl wasn't troubled nor annoyed—and even incited her—Valdris didn't think twice as her fingers caressed his chest from behind.
"You have a nice, trained body, Baldur," Valdris said, enjoying the feel of him as her hand roamed around his chest. "It must have taken a lot of dedication, right?"
Baldur was enjoying the touch of Valdris and his sister, a pleasant expression on his face. "Mhm. Indeed, it took a lot of perseverance and dedication. But it is worth it." He moved his healthy left hand to his sister's thigh and caressed her.
"I thought so," Valdris smiled. After touching him for a while, she retracted her hand. "Let's see that arm of yours. A wound like that could fester if not tended properly."
Baldur watched her, amused. "I've had worse."
"I don't doubt it," Valdris replied. She hesitated, giving a quick look at Gyda, but his sister only smiled back at her, seemingly unbothered by the strange air that permeated the space between the four of them. She was even getting excited as Baldur's left hand caressed her thigh.
Frida, flushed, came beside them and sat at his right, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of him. She'd never seen a man's bare chest before, let alone one as beautiful as Baldur's, nor had she ever seen muscles ripple beneath skin like this. She couldn't help herself as she reached out tentatively, like her mother and Gyda, her fingers brushing against his hard stomach and pectorals, caressing him.
Baldur chuckled at her mischievous hands.
She couldn't tear her intoxicated gaze away from him. But when she caught the smirk on Gyda's lips—watching her—she snapped out of her desire. "S-sorry," she stammered, snatching her hand back. "I shouldn't have done that."
Then, shyly, she started seriously removing the bandage that covered his wounded arm.
"Touch if you want," Baldur rumbled, his voice rough with amusement. "Satisfy your curiosity, lovely Frida."
Gyda smirked, her hand softly felt his growing bulge under his pants for a moment before she helped Frida remove the bloodied bandage.
The wound beneath seemed more terrifying than it was because of the blood, but it was already scabbing over, the edges knitting together unnaturally fast in the time since he'd been hurt. "He heals fast. Faster than most," Gyda explained to the two women. "The gods blessed him with a body different from a common man."
"It only looks scarier than it actually is."
Frida's eyes widened as she dipped a cloth into the warm water and began cleaning the dried blood. "Does it hurt when I touch it?" she asked softly, her voice trembling as she worked on him, just as Gyda did when she was worried.
Baldur's smirk deepened. "Not as much as it did. You have a soothing touch, Frida."
Valdris chuckled beside them, amazed at Gyda's words about Baldur's blessed body. She was grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle, the rhythmic motion steady as she mixed in warm water to form a poultice for the wound.
It was the first time she'd seen or heard of a man like him. If his golden eye wasn't proof enough of being loved by the gods, then his body was the physical proof—making him different from other men, able to heal his own wounds faster without external help.
She looked at the three of them for a few seconds, biting her lip, her eyes flashing. Gyda, his sister and supposed wife, seemed untroubled, letting them flirt with him without voicing anything so far, even being encouraging of it… She decided to take a chance for her and her daughter with this fine young man.
"It seems my daughter likes you, young Baldur."
Frida looked at Baldur's eyes for a moment, locking her gaze with his as she cleaned the dried blood, both of them hearing Valdris. After a few seconds, she shyly looked away, not daring to keep staring at him.
Baldur coughed, a little embarrassed, glancing at Gyda, who was nonchalant as she continued cleaning what was left of his wounded arm. "Well, I also like Frida… She is a pretty girl, after all."
"Just as yourself, Valdris. It shouldn't be a surprise that Frida is such a beautiful woman, given the looks of her mother."
"Well, well. You are quite the young lad, huh? Having a silver tongue like Loki," Valdris blushed, hearing his compliment as she finished the poultice. Then she moved in front of him, sitting closely between his legs on a wooden stool she'd pulled nearby. She looked at him mischievously at first, her free hand caressing his muscled chest before examining the wound in his arm after her daughter and Gyda had cleaned it.
"It seems you're lucky," she murmured. "The bear's claws don't seem to have cut too deep, and it's healing fast, as Gyda said—already scabbing."
"There doesn't seem to be much need for care, given how it looks. Still, this poultice will help. It's one to heal wounds even without a blessed body, and with yours, it'll only make it better than nothing."
She then started applying the poultice to the wound and around it. After she finished, Frida took a clean piece of cloth and bandaged him again.
"That should do it. Even if it doesn't seem necessary given your condition, clean the wound the day after tomorrow again and try not to dirty it with anything," Valdris said with a smile.
After she was done tending the wound, her fingers didn't leave him. Instead, they traced the lines of his muscles, her touch bold now, possessive. "I'm quite curious about you both," she said, looking curiously at the pair of siblings. "Who are you? Where are you from? I haven't seen you before around these parts, nor in Kattegat, nor at the Thing."
Baldur leaned back against the table, his left arm resting along the back of his sister, his hand pawing at her perky ass with an open palm, making her blush before the other two women. With his free, freshly bandaged right hand, he pointed. "We are from about two miles in that direction," he said with a lazy grin.
"Haven't participated in a Thing yet—my father hasn't taken me. But I will soon, to get my arm ring and swear fealty to the Earl, like he did."
"And I only go to Kattegat when needed," he added, "mostly for business."
Valdris and Frida gasped in unison, their eyes wide.
"You're so young," Valdris breathed, her fingers tightening slightly on his abs, "and yet so strong." Her gaze raked over him, lingering on the golden eye that seemed to glow in the firelight. An impressive young man—capable of killing a bear with just a scratch and even three full-grown men without breaking a sweat, by her father's accounts.
She looked at Baldur as if he were a treasure, even more enthralled than before, when she'd thought him so pretty and mysterious because of his golden eye. Her voice was husky as her warm breath caressed his skin. "Strong and brave. A man like you… He could have any woman he wants."
Gyda snickered softly as she kissed her brother's neck. It was as Valdris said—her brother was something else, and she was to be his most important woman in his life, along with their mother.
Frida's breath hitched as she watched Gyda being intimate with Baldur, her cheeks burning as she saw her mother's hand slide down Baldur's bulge over his trousers, seemingly enjoying what she was caressing—her movements free, without awkwardness.
She looked at Baldur with fervor—this blessed, handsome young man, loved by the gods, who had suddenly appeared in their home. They were of the same age, the three of them, and she doubted she would find a second like him in her lifetime. So why couldn't she have a man like him, as Gyda did? She didn't seem to have a problem sharing her awesome brother. Her various cousins were trash compared to the boy beside her. None of them had ever killed a bear, nor a man—or multiple men—on their own.
As if gathering her courage, Frida bit her lower lip and moved her hand to rest on his right thigh, her fingers curling slightly as she caressed him. She wanted him. Gods, she wanted Baldur. She wanted to be his and have him like Gyda did.
Baldur smirked, enjoying the situation unfolding. He never thought this would happen today on his and Frida's short hunting trip. "Any woman?"
Valdris noticed her daughter's desire-filled, jealous look as she watched Baldur and Gyda. She leaned even closer to his face, her warm breath softly caressing him as her voice dropped to a husky whisper, still caressing his crotch. "You're a dangerous man—I can feel it, Baldur. Even if you're so young, you're already more of a man than others twice your age or more."
"Dangerous and beautiful. Any woman could lose herself in you."
She smirked and moved away, but her hand stayed where it was, still caressing him. "Isn't that right, Gyda?" she asked his sister, who was unfazed by the current situation, resting her head on her brother's shoulder and kissing his neck from time to time, leaving wet red patches on him.
Gyda, who had been kissing her brother's neck, looked at Valdris and then at Frida. After a second, her eyes flashed with an imperceptible thought.
"Indeed, my brother could have any woman he wished. But the only ones worthy to be with him are those willing to take care of him and love him with their everything, without any base thought."
"Are you willing to share your brother?" Valdris asked with a grin.
"Mhm." Gyda smiled mischievously. She pinched Baldur's chin and made him look at her. "What do you think, brother?"
Baldur was mostly silent as he enjoyed himself while the girls interacted. "You know my thoughts already, sister."
"Indeed, I do." Gyda smirked and kissed him sloppily before the mother and daughter.
After separating, she looked at Valdris and Frida. "I'm willing to share my brother. It seems he likes you both; otherwise, he would never have let any of you touch his body like this."
"So the question is: Do you dare take the step to be with him? Loving and taking care of him?"
Frida's courage suddenly surged as her hand shot to his crotch, where her mother's hand was. "I—I could take care of you and love you, Baldur," she stammered, blushing at her eagerness to please him, but she couldn't help herself—she wanted to take her chance.
"Both of us," Valdris purred naughtily. She moved forward again and kissed his lips with a little peck. "We could take care of you and love you."
Baldur's breath hitched. "Don't you have a husband?" he asked roughly, looking at Valdris's face so close to his while feeling her daughter Frida's mischievous hand already caressing his bulging cock over his trousers, along with her mother's.
"I don't. I lost Frida's father a few years ago during a raid in the east and haven't touched another man since then," Valdris said heavily as she moved her face closer again to Baldur's, grazing her plump lips over his before kissing him softly.
"Are you a shield-maiden?" Baldur asked in wonder as he kissed her back.
Valdris returned the kiss, her tongue pushing past his teeth. "Yesss!" she moaned as she delved her tongue inside his mouth, searching for his.
"And Frida?" Baldur asked as he pulled away from Valdris, leaving her panting for breath after their kiss. His hand came up, his fingers tangling in Frida's hair as he pulled her closer.
Frida was red as a tomato as she watched Baldur and her mother kiss, her left hand excitedly touching his bulge back and forth, her other hand caressing his back while embracing his arm between her plump, young breasts. She could feel the wetness between her legs growing with each passing second, a mix of shame and excitement overwhelming her.
"She is like me—I trained her, just not battle-tested," Valdris whispered into Baldur's ear, her tongue flicking naughtily inside. "A mother-and-daughter pair of shield-maidens… doesn't that excite you, Baldur?"
"We are without a man—both of us. You could be that man. Our man."
Gyda couldn't help giggling softly, and Baldur also smiled. "I'm actually quite excited." He caressed Valdris's cheek.
"It seems you are destined to be loved by another pair of mother-and-daughter shield-maidens, brother."