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When she hears the roar of thunder, she thinks of Anna.
The midnight sun bore down on them with the thinly veiled menace of Sköll giving chase to Sól. It was with that same wild frenzy that Elsa pursued her younger sister hotly across the fjord. By far Elsa was the better rider, but Anna’s horse was swifter, more agile. He’d been a gift from Elsa herself, brought back as a yearling from ventures to the Mediterranean Sea. What more fitting a gift for a princess than a fine horse made from the woven dreams of Freyja herself and the fires of Halogi? A horse so light on its feet it practically floated in contrast to the heavy, unforgiving pounding of Elsa’s own steed.
She cursed loudly her tenderness towards her younger sister, who in turn laughed in delight of her own power, her voice resonating off the cliffs of the fjord, creating a boom that seemed to draw the interest of the gods. The sky darkened and a storm gathered. If Anna had any fear she did not show a sliver of it, instead urging her bronze horse faster as her dress streamed behind her and she took a sharp right turn towards the foothills.
Elsa smirked, now knowing exactly where Anna was headed.
She eased her mount from a headlong gallop to an easy canter, following the trail as dark clouds roiled above in the sky. As the terrain got rougher she slowed to a trot, not even needing to really look, her body subconsciously communicating to her horse which way to go.
It was a few more minutes before she arrived to the mouth of a grotto as lightning tore through the firmament with a power that could’ve shaken the entirety of Yggdrasil. She saw the big, elegant dark eyes and the chiseled, dished head of Anna’s horse peering from inside cave and rain began to pour down as she dismounted.
She heard her sister’s voice before she saw her voice.
“Now what will the world think if I tell them I outrode our mighty, ravishing Jarlskona, said to be the greatest rider in the kingdoms of Norway and Sweden combined?”
Anna came into view, her brass mane matching her horse’s, the braid resting around her hair like the crown she was meant to wear. Their eyes locked with one another’s and Elsa’s body felt febrile. They’d played this game many times, with Elsa often managing to snatch Anna from the saddle, until the horse she’d gotten sometime after her 16th winter had grown strong enough to carry her. But something was different today. The power that set the sky alight seemed to be humming within Elsa too.
“The finest rider is nothing if the finest mount is bitted to another.”
That laugh again. So large for a body so slight.
“I guess I have you to thank for, then.”
Elsa pointedly did not go towards Anna, instead turning around to unsaddle her horse, dropping the wood and leather seat to the ground next to them.
“However I still think I deserve a prize, considering she outran your horse fair and square.”
It was her turn to laugh as she turned around and a flash of lightning illuminated them for an instant, her throat feeling tight as she saw the ravishing figure and the gaze laced with a certain longing.
“Unfortunate then, that I don’t have anything to give you.”
Her reply was a little breathless as Anna stepped closer towards her and the rain began to fall with unforgiving, unrelenting force closing them off from the outside world. Locking them into the grotto.
“I don’t need to be given anything. I can simply take what I want, what I deserve… a certain most breathtaking shieldmaiden taught me that.”
Her heart was pounding like drums of war in her chest and she almost felt the urge to reach for her horn to sound it in, but this… this was an entirely different kind of battle she faced now.
The distance between them had grown to nothing and she could now sense their bodies nearly brushing against one another. A shiver went down her spine, knowing, sensing that whatever attention Anna had drawn to herself risked quickly turning to misfortune.
Then again, hadn’t the Norns already woven the tapestries of their fate? So she thought, as a fingertip brushed against her lower lip.
She could only surrender when she felt a sweet, soft supple mouth against it instead.
~~~
Where others hear the clash of Thor’s hammer, she finds her sister.
The Völva had foretold of Anna’s seeming ability to call on a storm. A spark of mjölnir within her soul, she’d said. Elsa had just risen to power as Jarlskona then. She’d scoffed at the theatrics, the drama of it perhaps being sufficient to impress men of power before her, but her respect to the gods did not always extend to their servants, they too were mortals in the end.
Yet again and again, Anna would lure Elsa away, and a storm would break on the horizon, and the unforgivable would happen. Eventually the kissing turned to a heated grasp of the waist or the flirting of nails on the nape of a neck and Elsa, ever tantalized would kiss and fall into Anna deeper, thankful for the cosmic display of Asgard’s most beloved son. No one would venture out in such weather, no one would find them like this, biting into the sweet fruit of the unknown.
Midsommar came and went, and the season moved forward, the wolf clan clamoured for a raid. For the first time since she’d claimed a shield, Elsa found herself not wanting to go. She knew not of where this was meant to go, knew that Summer would pass and the storms would ebb away as winter approached yet she could not imagine a life without embracing the princess in her arms, without running her hands over her prone body as their kisses turned from slow, sweet affairs to hot, open, bites. She’d grown a slave to the desire for the taste of her sweat and the faint scent of juniper on the skin of her throat.
It never went any further, after all this too was a game. But a game she’d decided was a little more fun than the equestrian races she was always doomed to lose. Wasn’t it, after all, simply a different kind of chase?
Today was different however, Anna’s panting did not end when she laced her fingertips with Elsa’s to put a stop to her wandering hands. Instead, as lightning and thunder tore through the firmament, Anna stepped back and Elsa looked at her, lips still parted from their favourite game. She noted a trembling in her younger sister, the sort that moves a body just before the thrill of victory. They held each other’s gazes, their eyes catching what was left of the light outside, making them shine like stars in the darkness of their favourite hide. Elsa stood motionless but for the heaving of her chest, still shorted from her heated chase. She knew this time was different, like the current of lightning in the air shifted directions, like the storm was gathering itself for an even greater display of might.
She watched, as Anna carefully removed the belt that so aptly emphasized the bite of her waist and the swell of her hip and Elsa’s heart thundered in her chest. If Anna truly had the ability to tickle Thor’s fancy, then Elsa herself stood no chance in the face of the storm she called within her either. Blue held blue as Anna allowed her dress to fall at her feet like leaves fallen from an ash tree, revealing pristine nubility beneath.
The Jarlskona had had her fair share of women, and had turned away more male suitors than she’d entertained, yet she stood before the princess’s tantalizing form with soft knees and the flutter of flames in her loin as though she were herself but a nervous virgin.
The storm raged beyond the confines of their secret nest and a crack of thunder boomed in time to Anna stepping back towards Elsa, taking her hands, bringing them up to her lips, kissing her knuckles sweetly before she gently brushed her tongue against her fingertips, then placed Elsa’s hands on her waist, pressing their bodies back together. She placed a kiss to the corner of Elsa’s jaw, then tugged at her earlobe playfully with her teeth, a little purr in her voice.
“Your princess demands tribute, Jarlskona…”
As if those words unlocked something within her, Elsa let out a little growl, her hands sliding from Anna’s waist to her buttocks, squeezing them with greed, as hungrily - no, hungrier - as she captured raided treasures. Her teeth grazed Anna’s lower lip before parting them with her tongue, gently yet feverishly.
One of her hands slid back up Anna’s body to find one of her breasts, gently cupping it, humming into her mouth as she felt the weight of it, and felt the pertness against the nook of her palm. She swallowed a quiet moan and short shallow gasps, as she felt Anna grow prone to her touch and she herself shuddered as she felt her younger sister suckle on her tongue with need.
Anna had cupped the sides of Elsa’s face, her nails flirting with the skin on the nape of her neck sliding a little further back to thread at the roots of her icy blond mane. Again it sent sparks flying down her spine and through her entire system, and Elsa had to stop, step back, with fire in her hardened gaze. Hurriedly, her axe dropped to the floor heavily as she unlaced its trappings from her heavy leathers and pulled her robe over her head. Her body unlike Anna’s unmarred skin was etched with battle scars and decorated with inked declarations of strength.
Her toned, well-muscled form was taut and no doubt appealing to the princess judging by the look in her eyes, and though she knew she looked smaller without her trappings, Elsa was proud of what the gods had given her to forge in pursuit of power for the wolf clan and subsequently somehow felt larger than when she was fully clothed. She stood long enough for strikes of lightning to illuminate her adding to the faint glow of the fire they’d started prior. Briefly, she wondered if the gods had known, when they’d gifted them these forms what they’d be using them for, or if that was a surprise the Nornir had kept to themselves.
As Anna closed the distance between them once more, skin against skin and placed a hand at the base of Elsa’s throat, kissing her with a demand only she would ever dare out of Elsa, she made absolutely no effort to fight her Fate.
Their hands sought each other’s bodies desperately, nails trailing thighs, sacral areas; fingertips seeking breasts, buttocks and lips seeking skin.
“A princess ought to be well prepared in demanding anything from a wolf…”
Elsa found herself hiking one of Anna’s legs around her hip as she brought their centres closer together, drawn to the heat radiating from them both and she allowed the storm - Anna’s storm - to consume her mind, her heart, her body, her soul. Her mouth trailed kisses that turned into love bites, marking the princess’s skin as her own. She felt her sister’s body tense and melt into her at the same time and growled softly against her skin, kissing her way down to her breasts, finding an eager peak and wrapping her lips around it.
She felt one of Anna’s hands thread fingers into her hair, nails biting into her scalp as she began to suckle ever so softly, feeling the arch of her back with one hand keeping her firmly in place. Anna’s hips rolled against hers and she panted softly as heat brushed past heat.
Without missing a beat, her tongue flicked at the tip she was currently adorning with ministrations before she let go of it, delighting at the frustrated little whine she heard and she smirked as she pressed her lips to her princess’s sternum then switched to her other breast, repeating the ritual. The hand gripping her hair was joined by another and she added very gentle teething which earned her mewling and moaning between the panting and gasping.
Her mouth trailed away from her breast, and thunder roared so loudly it almost felt as the world tree itself shook Midgard… or at least, their little corner of it. She smirked deviously as Anna protested but she slowly knelt before her princess - without a doubt, the only person - divine or mortal - who would ever see her on her knees. She nipped softly at the junction of her thigh to her hip and pressed hot open mouthed kisses as she trailed her way to the soft patch of red nestled between her legs.
The taste of her was as intoxicating as the frenzied storm that tore through their land.
~~~
It is her lover’s voice that resonates in her soul when the skies open.
The prow of the drakar barely bobbed with the waves, the water gently allowing it to carry its journey forward. The Wolf Clan’s Jarlskona stood a little forlorn as her eyes surveyed the horizon. She looked up to find the stars as bright as if they were fireflies floating before her and quickly sought Karlvagn the man’s chariot to locate Kvennavagn the woman’s chariot and checked that they were still sailing in the right direction. Elsa had a rare talent for reading the skies as clearly as a map, in large part thanks to Anna who, as a child, would beg her to sneak out with her at night and bear witness to them. Pretty quickly she’d understood they were one of the most effective tools a Vikingr could hope to use. The Wolf clan had become famous for losing few ships and effectively always guiding raids back home, thanks to her skills.
But tonight even as she would normally stand in awe at the majestic dome above them, her soul stood crestfallen as they sailed further away from home and towards their destination. She did not want to sound the horns of war, nor did she crave the taste of blood splashed from her blade in battle. She craved the taste of a nectar known to herself only instead, she craved the sounds of thunder and rain muffling the quiet gasps and moans heard only by her ears.
She knew as a seafarer who used celestial light by day and by night should be grateful for such clear skies…
Yet her heart longed for a storm.
Her heart longed for her storm.
A sudden flash tore through the skies, clouds gathering ahead of them.
Her warriors shuddered.
Elsa smiled.
Her spirits soared at the notion of riding that storm.