The Princess of Harrodshall - Part 1 [f19m18][historical fiction][viking][redhead][virgin][masturbation][arranged marriage][long]

Author’s note: while this story is set in medieval Viking times, it is historically largely inaccurate. Many of the described ceremonies and rituals probably did not exist like this, even if I have done some research to not be totally off. More problematically, women were typically married between the ages of 12 and 15, and men and women were considered adults at the age of about 16. For obvious reasons, I have made the characters in this story a bit older. However, if you are as interested as I am in emotional backstory and a half-way realistic storytelling, imagine the events of the story through the lens of a 14, 15 or 16 year old boy and girl. If you’re just here for the hot redhead, you can leave that part out. Now, enjoy the story.

—————

Freya’s eyes scanned the horizon in anguish. She dreaded the moment the coast of Norderholm would come into view. Fear gripped her heart. She was being sent off to a strange land, to marry a man she had never met. All to keep the peace between their warring houses. A tear streamed down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away.

Her father stepped up next to her. His proud face, weathered from the years at sea, didn’t show any emotion. His eyes scanned the horizon.

“You are doing your honorable duty as a princess daughter of the house of Harrodshall. Your forefathers look proudly upon you.”

He paused and took a breath as if he wanted to say something else. But he then turned away abruptly, stomping to the aft of the ship, barking commands at the men on deck.

Her eyes followed him. She then saw her mother emerge from the tent that had been pitched on deck to afford the noble women some protection from both the weather and the hungry eyes of the men. Her mother was a tall woman, with the flaming red hair and steely blue eyes that had been a trait of the Harrodshall women for generations. Freya was her spitting image. Like her, she was tall. Her fiery red hair was braided into a thick plait. Like her mother, she was wearing a thick woolen dress and a fur cape to protect them from the biting wind.

Her mother joined her at the bow. She looked at her daughter. Sadness and pride mixed in her gaze. Like her, she had been part of an arranged marriage. It was the custom among the noble houses to form alliances and keep the peace in this way. She had been much younger, than Freya, barely 15 years old. Freya had just turned 19 this spring. If she was being honest, it was time to see her married off. But so far, her proud father had rejected all marriage proposals as underneath her station. So now Norderholm. A great house for sure. But also one they had battled with for so many years. She prayed to all the gods that they would treat her daughter honorably and that the union really would bring peace between their houses.

She turned to her Freya: "Freya, my dear. I know what you are feeling right now. Many years ago, I was standing at the bow of a ship just like this. But the gods smiled on me and delivered me to your father, who has been an honorable man and husband to me and father to you. I pray to them that they deliver the same fate for you."

Freya didn't answer, instead scanning the horizon.

Her mother sighed. "Come to the tent, I want to talk to you and give you something."

The two women turned, crossed the deck and entered the tent.

"I want to talk to you about your wedding night." She went on to explain the mechanics of what would happen. "It will probably hurt the first few times, maybe even a lot. But over time, you will get used to it. Some women even come to enjoy it. In any case, I had the herb woman prepare this for you." From her things she pulled a small silver pot with a beautifully decorated lid. "It's an ointment you can use to soften your skin and smooth the entrance. The herbs should also soothe any burning or pain." She handed the pot to her. "This should last for a little while, but I will send more when we send your household to Norderholm."

Freya held on to ther mother's hand and looked at her. "Thank you." Then: "Mother? You said some women come to enjoy it? Did you also come to enjoy it?"

A cloud of sadness came into her mother's eyes. “Your father has many qualities. Being gentle is not one of them. I very rarely have found pleasure in sharing the marital bed with your father.”

She paused, looking at her daughter with a questioning look. Slowly, she continued. “I have, however, over the years found a number of ways to pleasure myself… down there.” She looked pointedly at her daughter’s lap.

Freya blushed. There had been moments—fleeting, brief—when she had felt something stir inside her, something that she had been too afraid to explore fully. Her mother seemed to understand. “Well, you are a grown woman now, or almost at least. Once you are married, a lot of this will make more sense to you.”

“Land, land!”

From outside, the shouts of the look out rang across the ship. Freya’s heart sank, as she heard the rapid footsteps of the men and the tense voices. They were approaching the coast of Norderholm, the place that she hoped would become her new home and hopefully not a prison.

—

The reception at the harbor of Norderholm was befitting of the station of their house, but the tension was palpable. Many of the men awaiting the boats had met the men disembarking in battle. Each clan had lost fathers, sons and brothers to the other.

Freya and her parents left the ship last. They were greeted by Lord Gunnar of Norderholm. He was framed by his wife and three children, two girls of about 12 ans 9, and a boy of 6 or 7 years. Next to Lord Gunnar though stood a young lad of about 18. Was this her future husband? It had to be.

Freya looked at him furtively. He was very tall, towering a good four inches over his father, who wasn’t a short man. He had broad shoulders, golden blond hair that came down to his shoulders and a scraggly beard. His eyes were of a grayish blue. He seemed nervous.

Freya didn’t think her future husband, whose name was Sven Gunnarson, was particularly handsome. But he had a kind face and he looked healthy. She felt a little relieved. In her mind she had conjured up all kinds of images. This didn’t seem half bad.

—

The rest of the day passed with unloading the ships, settling into the guest quarters. The following day, her father, Lord Gunnar, Sven and she rode out into the country to survey the lands.

Freya understood the political machinations of her marriage. As she had no brothers, her father’s lands would fall to her upon his death. She could almost be certain that her claim would be challenged, few rivals tolerated a woman in a position of wealth and power. She would then need the support of her husband’s house to defend her claim. This survey basically served to confirm what the sizable dowry her father was paying was buying him.

The ride gave Freya and Sven the chance to get acquainted with each other. He complimented her riding, she admired his horse. He pointed out places where something or other had happened, she spoke admiringly about the beauty of the landscape and the upkeep of the hamlets and fields they passed.

Every once in a while she caught Sven observing her figure on the horse. She blushed, but so did he when he noticed her noticing, and quickly looked away.

After a full day in the saddle, she was tired and sore when they returned to Norderholm. After a quick dinner, Gunda, her servant, had prepared a bath for her. She had known Gunda all her life. She was old by now, at least 50 years. Her father had brought her back from one of his raids, captured somewhere in the south. She was a Thrall, an enslaved captive. As she had been a peasant, no one came to barter for her freedom. As the years passed, she had served her family well, taking care of much of the child rearing for Freya. She was almost like a second mother to her. Her real mother could be stern, whereas Gunda always was warm and had an open ear for the troubles of the growing girl.

“Is the bath alright, my dear?”

“Yes Gunda, thank you.”

“Did you have a good day exploring your future lands?”

“Yes. It’s a beautiful country. Not as beautiful as Harrodsisler, but fertile and well kept.”

“I am glad. I hope you will be happy here.”

“I will miss you, Gunda!”

“But you don’t have to miss me. I will stay with you here. I am your property now. Your father included me in your dowry.”

“Oh that makes me so glad, Gunda. It will be nice to have a familiar face here once everyone is gone.”

"I am glad as well, my lady." And then, in a more conspiratory tone: "And did you get to meet your future husband? What is he like?"

“I don’t know. He seems… young. Almost like a boy, more than a man. He is very polite.”

“Well, I hope you will be content with him. And that you will have many children together. That always makes things easier for a woman. My husband and I never managed to have children.” A great sadness entered her voice with this last sentence.

“Your husband?”

"My dear, I had a life before your father and his men raided our village. I was a young woman then, freshly married. This was before you were even born."

Freya felt a pang of guilt in her chest. "I am sorry, Gunda."

"Don't be. This is the way the world works. It is not your fault. And your family has treated me kindly. Things could've been a lot worse."

"Tell me about your husband, if you don't mind."

"His name was Bo. He was a farmer's son, just like I was a farmer's daughter. Our farms were a little ways apart, but we had met in the village many times in our youth. As we grew up, we kept seeking out these encounters. We secretly met and..." She hesitated.

"Yes?"

"Well, we did what young men and women who are not of noble blood do. We loved each other very much, so Bo proposed to my father to marry me. The arrangements were made, and we married a little less than a year before that fateful raid."

Freya's eyes went wide: "You decided for yourself who you wanted to marry?"

"That is one of the few priviliges that the peasants have over the nobles. Our marriages are not determined by political or military alliances and bloodlines. If two people want to be together, and the families agree, they can marry."

"What happened?"

"When your father's dragonboats were sighted on the horizon, we scrambled for the hills. Bo and I got separated, and I got captured by your father and his men, along with some other people from our village. You don't remember any of them, some were sold, some died when you were very little. I often wondered what became of Bo..." Her voice trailed off in sadness.

"Did you ever look for him or did he come looking for you?"

"Oh child. I am a thrall. I would get whipped or killed if I ever went near a boat without permission. And the land I come from is several days at sea away. I don't even know in which direction! And Bo was a peasant, he would never be able of get a boat to make the voyage. No, no, child, our love is just a fading memory."

"I am sorry, Gunda. I really am."

"Don't be." Now Gunda sounded angry.

"Forgive me for being so naive. I still have much to learn about the ways of the world."

Her voice softened: "It's alright child. I know. This conversation just brought up some very painful memories. Now get out of the water so I can dry you off."

Freya got up out of the wooden bath tub and stepped out. The warm water ran off her pale white skin. Her now unbraided hair laid thick and tangled over her shoulders and back. The cool air gave her goosebumps and caused her blooming nipples to harden. Gunda held up a large linen cloth to wrap herself in.

"You have grown into such a beautiful women. The young lord is lucky to receive you as a wife."

Freya blushed. "Gunda, can I ask you something? I have never been with a man. What is it like? Will it hurt?"

Gunda looked at her. "It is not my place to tell you about these things. You should hear this from your mother."

"I talked to my mother, and she explained things to me. But you know how my mother is."

"Don't speak ill of your mother. She is a very noble and honorable woman."

"Of course she is. But you know that all these years growing up I have also confided in you. Like when I bled for the first time, you explained to me that this would happen regularly, and that it was a sign that I was becoming a woman."

Gunda sighed. “That is true.” She pulled up a stool. “Sit down, child, while I dry and braid your hair.”

While she was busying herself with Freya’s hair, Gunda began to talk: “Now keep in mind, child, that I have only ever been with one man. And that was many, many years ago.”

She sighed again.

“Now, you have probably seen a dog or a bull or a ram mount their mate, right?

Freya blushed and giggled. „Yes. Is that how it works?“.

„No, not exactly. A man can enter you in different ways. He can certainly mount you, similar to the dogs and sheep. But you can also receive him when you’re facing each other, laying down. You can even do it standing up, or sitting on a stool.”

Freya saw herself in these various positions. She tried to picture how some of these might work, but didn’t quite see it.

“And you know that when a man desires you his… thing… Will grow and get hard, right?”

Freya blushed even more. „Yes.“

“Now, from what I’ve heard, not all men are shaped the same… down there. Some apparently are larger and some smaller. The young lord is a large man, so maybe his… will be large as well. I don’t know.”

In Freya’s mind, an image of young man she had spent the day with appeared. She tried to imagine what his member looked like, but as she had never seen one in its hard state she was at a bit of a loss. But curiously, these thoughts warmed her blood, and particularly her lower belly and nether regions started to feel warm.

„My mother told me that it would hurt. Is that true?“

„Yes, dear. The first time it will probably hurt. And you may bleed a little as well.“

„My mother told me that you get used to it. And that some women even enjoy it.“ She paused. „Did you enjoy it?“

Now Gunda seemed a bit embarrassed. „I enjoyed it a lot. The first few months together, Bo and I were like rabbits. We were doing it at every possible opportunity.“

„Oh! Why did you enjoy it so much, and others don’t?“

„I don’t know, dear. Maybe it was because we loved each other very much. But there are certain things you can do to make it hurt less in the beginning.“

„Like what?“

„If you kiss and stroke each other, your… well, your womb, will get soft and wet. This will allow his… his member to slide in more easily. Your skin is very sensitive in different places, like your neck, your breasts.“

Thinking of her breasts made Freya’s puffy nipples harden. She also felt the warmth in her belly grow warmer and the folds between her legs grow and get a little wet.

„Enough of that. I should not be telling you all this. Your hair is done as well.“ Gunda rustled in Freya‘s things, rearranging combs and pins and bands, signaling that the conversation was over.

„Thank you, Gunda. For the hair. And for the explanations.“

„You’re welcome, my child. Now get into bed so that you are rested for your big day tomorrow.“

—

Later, when she was in bed, covered by the warm furs, she thought anxiously about what would happen the next night. She was not afraid of the pain as such. As any woman from a warrior family, she had learned to fight with a short sword, lance and dagger. She had had her share of cuts and bruises, and had more than once fallen off her horse. She was more afraid of being trapped than meeting a painful fate head-on.

Her thoughts kept coming back to the things Gunda had described. She thought of Sven touching her. Stroking her hair, her skin. The warm feeling in her belly returned. She imagined them kissing. The feeling grew stronger, and a tingling started in her lap. Almost unconsciously, she pulled up the hem of her nightgown and started touching her skin. Her hand explored different places. Her thighs, her hips and waist. Her flat belly. Her had slid up to her breast. She was surprised to feel that her nipple, that was usually soft and puffy was not firm and pointy. She tentatively caressed the rosy skin around the little know, and then lightly pinched it. She giggled, as ripples of pleasure and pain radiated out from her breast through her belly and her loins. She felt the tingling in between her legs grow stronger. Hesitant, she slid her hand down between her legs. She felt warm and moist. She slid one finger in between the folds. It was wet and slippery! Curiously, she explored further, touching and prodding different spots. This felt… nice. Very nice, actually. She continued to rub and stroke, and felt her cheeks and cleavage flush. She rubbed faster and felt tension Build in her stomach. Faster still. She was now breathing heavily. Her legs stretched out, her feet pointed towards the end of the bed. Her back arched like a bow whose string was being pulled. And then suddenly, the tension released and a hot wave ran through her body, radiating out from her loins, followed by multiple smaller waves. She was surprised that she let out a small whimpering cry.

The noise startled Gunda, who had been sleeping in a cot to the side of the room. „Are you alright, my lady?“

„Yes, Gunda.“ Freya said, trying to control her panting breaths. „I just dreamed that I fell off a boat and it startled me. Go back to sleep.“

She laid for a moment, panting, her chest heaving. What had just happened to her? Was that what the women who enjoyed laying with their husbands experienced? She would try to find a way to broach the subject with Gunda. But for now, a wonderful tiredness spreading throughout her body. She pulled her nightgown back into place and closed her eyes, drifting off into sleep.