Request #459.5
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It's Rambles again :)
Midsummer is always a merry, adventurous evening. Frey's temple was always a beacon of light and revelry, the entire town turning up to touch the statue that was meant to bring prosperity, peace, fertility, fair weather, and good harvest. I was no different, hoping for a good store of food for the winter and peace for the rest of summer- no more raiders storming our shores.
I waited patiently, drinking from ale horns passed around and singing the bellowed songs of the celebration. When it was my turn, I reached up and lightly ran my hand over the god's sculpted chest and belly before turning towards the gathering in the firelight. Peddlers and a single wisewoman offered mementos, charms, and tonics to celebrate with, though only a few seemed to buy from the wisewoman.
Pulling a few coins from my pocket, I approached her spread of goods, examining the beads and charms and bottles.
"I think this would suit you quite well, my dear," the wisewoman said, offering a leather bracelet strung with bronze beads stamped with runes.
Smiling, I offered her the coins. "Thank you."
She smiled. "Enjoy your evening."
Tying the bracelet around my wrist, I lifted my skirts and joined the dancing around the fire, young and free and merry.
I hardly remembered crawling into my pallet of furs much, much later, dizzy with ale and exertion. It was still quite warm, and I stripped off my dress and shift, sprawling naked on my pallet under the window and relishing the cool breeze on my skin. Sleep came easy and deep.
As usual when I drank ale, I dreamed. It was a vivid dream, though, and unusually coherent. Laying in a grassy meadow, wildflowers waving all around, I sat up and scanned my surroundings. The sunshine kissed my pale, bare skin, my fair hair unbound and tickling my back and sides.
"My goodness, aren't you a lovely surprise."
I whipped around, and found a beautiful man lolling in the grasses not a foot from me, naked and gleaming in the sun. His golden hair was unbound as well, his golden eyes amused as he beheld my shock.
"What? Didn't you know what my priestess put on your wrist?"
"No?" I managed to reply, shaking my hair forward to help shield my nakedness.
"The runes make you an offering to me," the man replied, still mildly amused. "I am Frey."
"Oh," I replied faintly. "An offering in what way?"
"In whatever way I think will suit best," he explained. "It's been a very long time since a woman wore that bracelet."
He reached out and brushed his hand down the side of my face. All my fear and embarrassment fell away, and I understood what he meant to do.
"What a fine priestess you would make," he murmured, rising from his reclined position. "You prayed for peace and a good harvest when you touched my statue. You and your village will have both."
He moved like a mountain lion, strong and graceful. I lay back in the grass and wildflowers, wrapping my arms around his neck as he stretched out over, parting my thighs and stroking my sex with a broad hand. His touch sparked a heat deep in my belly, and with only a few strokes I was burning for him, to be used as his offering. Dragging my hands through his hair, I pulled him down for a deep kiss, wrapping my legs around his hips. Sliding his hand away, I gasped into his mouth as he split my body with his thick cock, spasming around him.
"Exquisite," Frey breathed against my mouth, sliding a hand under me to tilt my hips towards him. He fucked me deeply, thoroughly, and for what felt like hours. Boneless and spent, I smoothed my hands over my slightly rounded belly, utterly full of his seed. Frey ran his own hand over my bloated middle. "Wake, my priestess. Enjoy your blessings."
I woke hungover and disheveled, ravenously hungry but also quite nauseated. Shuffling to my hearth, I put on the kettle to make some tea and begin my day.
I worked as a weaver in the village, and spent most of my day inside, bent over my loom. Ever since the Midsummer celebrations, I had felt ill in the mornings and had a mildly bloated midsection, though it wasn't really notable in my plain dresses.
My garden was doing wonderfully, and no raiders appeared on the horizons. In the market, people said the rye was looking better than anyone had hoped, and the pasture was lush and verdant, fattening up the herds of cows and sheep. Foragers returned with full sacks and baskets, and fishermen had full nets so often that they didn't need to sail out every day.
As the autumn equinox arrived, there was no denying to myself that I was with child. My belly rounded outward between my hip bones, and I was beginning to feel the occasional deep flutter inside. From what I knew, this was far too soon for such things, if my dream had not just been a dream. On the day of the equinox, someone tapped on my door, and when I opened it, the wisewoman stood there, smiling.
"I see Frey accepted his offering," she said, slipping past me and closing the door. "What a bounty the village has been given this year."
She reached out and pressed her hand to my belly, eliciting a strong, deep flutter within. I cupped my hands around the bump. She said, "Oh, yes, Frey's seed has taken very well. No wonder we're doing so well, and the demigod hasn't even been delivered yet."
"Demigod?" I managed, feeling like I needed to sit down.
"Yes, a child of a god sired upon a mortal woman," the wisewoman said. "You may call me Imogen."
"Astrid," I replied, smoothing my hand over my fluttering belly. "Why is this happening so quickly? And what could a god need of a child born of a mortal woman?"
"Demigods are very powerful, but not bound by the rules of the divine. They give mortals hope and gods power on earth."
Imogen touched me again, and again the babe in my womb moved, the flutter strong and prolonged. "You're probably about halfway through, I would imagine. Demigods are only born on days of power, and if you aren't ready today on the equinox, then I would guess the winter solstice is your day of delivery. Do you pray often?"
Imogen spent the entire day instructing me on what I should and should not do in order to deliver the strongest possible babe to Frey. And when the elders met to perform the ritual of the equinox, she informed them of our village's blessing. Once confirmed for themselves, I suddenly had no reason to conceal my pregnancy, unmarried as I was. People dropped off food and goods on my doorstep, left flowers and herbs, and greeted me warmly in the market. They touched me, too, resting their hands on my burgeoning belly, hoping to feel the demigod moving inside me, or at least bring a small fraction of the blessing onto themselves.
By the time the winter snows arrived, every barn and storehouse and cellar was packed full. Any surplus had been sold off, filling coffers. Most evenings, I sat by the fire in the village hall, sewing clothes for the babe. Imogen watched me, regularly ran her hands over my belly, and asked endless questions about my prayers and offerings to Frey. Indeed, I dutifully recited a string of prayers as I wove in the daylight, leaving small bits of food in the shrine or crumbling herbs in a brazier. And indeed, my belly grew and grew, the babe strong and vigorous, hands and feet pressing against my skin as they turned head-down into my hips.
The morning of the equinox, I rose from bed and felt a strange sinking sensation, pressure building in my pelvis even as it was relieved under my chest, allowing me to draw a true deep breath for the first time in months. When I stood naked in the reflection of the still-dark glass window, my belly obviously dropped low on my frame. Smooth and taut, I stroked my hands over the rippling surface as the babe kicked slightly, somehow sinking even deeper into my pelvis.
By noon, my labours had well and truly begun. I wove in the daylight, but I had to pause to breathe as regular spasms seized me, making everything between my chest and knees clench impossibly tight. It wasn't painful, precisely, but it was breathtaking. The babe had gone quite still, unbelievably heavy. Imogen came and went, and the village midwife. They had both voiced concerns about the sheer size of my belly and the babe within, but I didn't think Frey would give me a babe too big to birth when he probably had a plan for the child.
Rising to piss for the tenth time of the day, a splatter of warm fluid on the stone floor of my cottage startled me, and when a spasm seized me, more fluids running down my legs and spraying the floor. Breathing through the spasm, I looked up as it eased to find Imogen and the midwife in the doorway.
"Well. It appears that things are well under way," Imogen remarked. "Time to move to the temple."
Imogen insisted I birth the demigod child in the temple, before the women of the village, the elders, herself, and the midwife. Such a public event seemed silly to me, but I didn't have the awareness to fight her on it, too concerned with what was happening within me.
Firstly, I felt no pain, just deep pressure and a desire to pace and squat. And secondly, I thought I was progressing very quickly for a first babe, and without much effort on my part. The midwife examined my sex between spasms and blinked up at me.
"The babe is just there. A half a dozen pains might very well deliver it. Don't you feel the urge to push?"
"No?" I managed, breathing as another spasms squeezed me. "Just... pressure..."
Loosening, I paced towards the plinth at the base of the statue, squatting before it. Yanking my shift off over my head, I bent over the cold stone slab, spreading my knees and bearing down as the next spasm came. I felt the babe squeeze downward, my sex bulging as the head pressed outward. Without warning, every lamp and candle in the building extinguished, and a warm male hand slid down my back. The spasm eased briefly enough for me to whisper, "Frey?"
"Yes," he whispered back, digging his knuckles deep into my low back. "Breathe through the next one, no pushing."
Indeed, the next pain was on me, and I just panted through it as the babe inched down, Frey's hand cupping the head and my sex and not allowing it to bulge outward any further. His touch was tingling and invigorating, and as he thumb stroked upward-
Clutching the edge of the plinth, I orgasmed with a strangled cry, even as the babe's head delivered entirely. Panting, I bore down on the next spasm, delivering the first shoulder as the babe turned, and then the second. In a rush of fluids and relief, the babe slid out into its father's hands.
The relief was instantaneous and bone-deep, and I turned to slump back against the plinth. Still in the dark, I could feel Frey but not see him as the babe cried and wiggled between us, slippery and alive.
"A son," Frey murmured against my hair, placing the babe on my chest, the cord throbbing between us. "My finest, truest priestess."
Instinctively, I grabbed my shift and wrapped the babe in it, cuddling him into my breast.
Frey cupped my face in his hands and bent to kiss me again, deep and thorough. "I'll be back for a daughter."
Then he was gone, and all the candles and lamps were bright again, the women and elders gathered blinking into the lights.
I rested against the plinth of the statue, thighs spread as the cord pulse between my son and I, babe cradled in my arms. A crown of flowers and wheat had appeared on my fair hair, but I was otherwise naked and exposed to them. They all stared above my head, and I looked up to see that the statue had changed.
Before Frey was a woman, face turned down and belly rounded with pregnancy. His arms were wrapped around her, cradling her belly, a bounty of grain and fruit and meat at their feet.
I looked down as the babe rooted at my breast, latching strongly to my engorged breast.
"Hail Astride," Imogen murmured, sinking to her knees. "Consort of Frey and bringer of bounty."
The bracelet on my wrist warmed, and something low in my belly throbbed.
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