POV: Skaði Þjazisdóttir.
Date: Góa 10th, 798 AD. (Alt: 21st February, 799 AD.) Location: Götaland (Ancient Sweden.)
"My ástriði (Rider of love.)" The great Huntress would declare during their rest-down within her private quarters, cuddling a continuous match between the two parties.
By the 5th day of their relationship, she knew these feelings intimately and how deeply her devotion had been won over. An aspect of their Gods' impulsivity that stems from their deathless existence. Yet, she was afraid.
The feelings of mortal lovers before Njǫrðr had been strong, yet fleeting. Their deaths forced decades to heal as they could no longer find time in the halls or in Helheimr. Nor the irreconcilable incompatibility that had involved over in Nóatún. But here, she felt truly at home. Heath would cup her cheeks with both hands while their heads were on the pillows, Heath leaning in to give her a deep, tonguing kiss, his original form's visually scarred hands giving a softening touch that shrouded her heart like a morning mist over a mountain's roots.
"*Mmmpgh~*" Her eyes closed while returning the favour, her legs wrapping around his waist and her arms to his neck in a she-bear's hug. Anxiety melted under such tender, physical care. Ensconcing the belief that he would be both a good partner and loving father.
Their breaths were heavy, a dew building upon their lips to be lapped from the source. She felt inexperienced when a relationship similar to Leif and Sigrid's was as rare as finding identical pinecones in the same forest. ""*Mᵘch*"" The sound of their lips smacked through the cabin, yet rising tensions could not be played on, belatedly discussed beforehand. That she should gather the blessings of Heath's children before 'exemption.' But just the feeling of their spooning made it all worth it.
Half a sun's turning passed before she let go of her grip, loathing the feeling of being away in any form again, yet enjoying the appearance of her Lover God, his every 'imperfection' that tells of his story, making him appear more handsome than Baldr himself.
Staring into each other's expressions, both were blissful and calm within their immediacy. Heath became the least anxious he had ever been in sharing each other's triumphs and sorrows. Especially what his lover's future fate was in telling of her future with Óðinn. Which, she strangely did not know, but did have premonitions about. And if she knew what she did now. 'I would kill that man where he stood, knowing
'A single lifetime for them. Was I, cursed?' She had grilled herself with how her future would have been if not for his retelling of myths centuries old within his home realm. "I see you." Heath would portray eyes of sorrow and compassion in setting his will to not have this pain be rekindled ever again.
"I, too." She would extol with her own luminary, to not cause greater pain to the one she promised an internment with. To not break Heath again as the same as Guiliana's death. "We would have adored meeting her." The great Huntress would, of course, have been jealous at seeing their perfect relationship to her standards, with Heath silently chortling now to her opposing expression of seeing a friend and a rival. "Yeah, she as well." Heath kissed her a final time, then got up with hesitation.
"Where do you think you are going?" Skaði gave as a faux-challenge, arms wrapping around his chest in using her Deified speed to be a dearing nuisance. "Oh, I was wondering on a trip to my Cavern!" That earned a playful rubbing of her torso onto his back, with her letting go to collect her supplies in readiness. "Let us go, then." She hoists her hand upwards onto his bicep.
He nods in turn, now warping together in arms after notifying those who will see them together. There were a few who had suspicions of the great Huntress's entering of their realm, but it was understandable, after seeing how manipulative her once step-daughter's belief was on how to work for the Vanir's 'greater good.' A notion that, while efficient, had cost too many potential alliances in its overt negativity and 'Machiavellian Realpolitik' in treating others in cold practicality or of their potential threat. Helpful knowledge for the future in case of other 'characters' with similar outlooks.[1]
Valyria wandered into her father's vision, their telepathic communications muted to Skaði's mind yet their expressions told of their own personal grievances of the situation. The guardian Goddess did not trust other Gods outside of her circle, yet Heath pleaded with her to give a chance to his lover.
"I do not like it, but there is a way for you to gain their trust, my snærrskina (Shining snow.)" Heath would voice after a Model minute of talking out a possible revision to gain a deeper insight into their personalities, the usage of ETERNAL to spend millennia together in under a single day. Valyria takes her Papa by the hand, yet gives a leering appearance to her as if she were trying to steal him away. 'I only hope to gain their love, as I love their father the same.' She would tell herself with repentance for their entire 'species' to gain some amicability.
The deer and crow passing by also give their own looks, and with their own hearings of how their Saviour had been treated by Freyja, a majority had some doubts, which will make her be watched over by playing in their own Uni-pods to watch the live stream during their time together.
"-this will be a good track to check on Heath's empire in-game, as well." They heard Jorg's murmur in the background, wondering the sort of constructs he had made for his personal empire. All quickly went to their homes, checking 'H_Dude_1981's stream that began a few finger snaps after. 'Young' Heath's form solidified into the viewscreen in darkened, glimmering armour, beside him, the great Huntress turned to her own below, a replica but for a female body type set unto hers with a strength simulated greater than even the *Dyḗusium armour given to Thyra.[2]
"What threats require this?" Skaði asks, *Tinging* the armour on its edge that gave a dull sound as if it were a bell that invoked doom. "Too many." The tall God would reply, his appearance showing his young heyday. His dark, enchanted netherite sabatons soundly travailing towards the armoury's entrance, out and into the Capital.
From the gate's dawning of movement, the 'Villager' guards stirred over their posts, their metastable false-vacuum instigating munitions disengaged, and their vibration-cancelling energy shielding turned off 'collision-mode' in their Ravager-Class heavy armour, their 4-fingered grip clenching into a fist before banging twice towards the plate over their heart and a 3rd where they held their palm over it, a signal of reverence in their own warrior micro-culture. Heath raised his hand in asking them to rest, now turning back to their posts after seeing their creator return.[3]
"ᴴᴼᵂ ꟲᴬᴺ ᵀᴴᴱᴵᴿ ᴮᵁᴸᴷ ᴮᴱ ˢᴼ ᴮᴵᴳ?!" The great Huntress would whisper about their heights, being twice that of Valyria's at first glance, with arms bigger than an average mennskr (Norse human)'s whole body! "They have their own version of a digital Uni-Pod, with a quantum-link between their consciousness and these robotic 'sleeves' to replicate their body's every sensation." Heath would explain.
*"We could have done that?"* Many outside in their respective views into the stream comment, Leif, Sigrid, Elissa, Yufren and Artkrea now respectively applying it to their own empires immediately after hearing the comment without impinging any societal stratifications. "Could we. . ?" Skaði asks, Heath realising what she was figuring out to ask. "Sadly, no. To transfer a figure from this digiverse into ours, I would need to recreate their memories and implant them into a soul, as I had done for Goldie."
The great scientist God touched his chin, then pointed left to lead down into the hovercar pad where his trusty flying 2019 Mazda-CX5 was. "Shame." She would claim, with both holding hands in the back seat while their bodyguard chauffeur would drive their vehicle for them.
The Dollens also come around to the empire once left, the 'Villagers' greeting them as Caretaker Gods in the flesh. While yes, there was the stranger that was the Dís (Fate Goddess) next to them, the hyper-realistic characters were made to realise they were together under a
"-which is set to each orbit parallel to 1 another with >= 5 quadrillion different stations total and expanding still. The total population that could be held would be over a quintillion, currently, that is. I expect it to reach a septillion once fully completed." Heath gave a detailed 3D topological map of his entire empire, encompassing 65 stellar systems and each slowly growing their own smaller Dyson Ring Swarms.
"35% of the total is set to be farms, 60% is set for population matters, and 5% is set for extraterrestrial mining. And as of now, I have 51 different sapient species, with 12 of them being synthetic and 17 by the star systems that had been colonised and made modernised." The great scientist God would wave towards a creature that appears dramatically similar to a Blimp from Generator Rex, with the highly decorated creature waving back with its own tendrils while lazily flying around as the biological dirigible it is, the grand blues and greens a visual acuity over its hydrogen sac that kept it afloat, slowly swirling in a spectrum.
"Those guys are rather friendly when you get to know them, just keep to their line of sight because they turn slowly." Heath would laugh to himself, seeing one of the anti-gravity waystations for creatures like the one he waved for a temporary stop.
"How old is your empire?" Skaði would hear that their first life was created ≈ 4 million 'Terran' years ago, and the first xenophilic entity's immigration was now 580,000 years ago. Sadly, their level of technology had plateaued due to the DNA medium server's soon-removable limitations. "There are many technologies I have none of you could even imagine, but if I showed them, they would ruin the progression of your stories. I hope all understand why I do not tell you." Heath would give a near-pleading look to the camera of the livestream, others accepting this conclusion from his sorries.
500 'Terran' years pass in their perspective, in Real-Space, only a few Model seconds. But that time would have been enough to show any signs of behaviour like Freyja's or Óðinn's. Many truly came to trust her to the same conclusions Heath had come to, their stream becoming a popular video attraction in their Youtube-Analogue app.
Also enough corroborating their perspective to solidify their ties in both familial and romantic manners, truly~. "This-" The great Huntress would begin. "-this is what I want our world to be like." She would will into her every thought the hope of purity and justice that ran through every fibre of this galactic society. "But I have not seen any of the threats you say would be there?" From our heroine's comment, she saw her lover's face crumple in, now guiding her back into the Mazda to lead her into an interstellar-capable spacecraft to then reach the 'southern' border in the voidal fringe in about 143 'Terran' years.
"Whatever that is, is coming at us." He would point into the nulling expanse from their large window, a mass of strange tachyonic toroids having a sheen of 'hyper-blue,' their superluminal speeds being received through their Divine sight. He would roleplay again, as best as he could.
"It will reach our galaxy in a month of our reality's timeframe. No one truly knows what type of threat these creatures would be. But from our simulations, the energy required for their travel alone would be enough to destroy entire gas giants in a single 'beam.'" Heath's voice acting, filled with conceivable shuddering, made them feel the urgency of the matter. "We must be ready." Heath scabs his eyes over with catastrophising demeanment. "For their arrival." A fist clench, for good measure too.
Our people who watched the stream and the light from their perspective realised its meaning, the death of another galaxy, for no light behind its trajectory existed. The brightest flames burned their fuels hotter, to then simmer in wait for the tsunami that can drown them all.
We refocus on Leif and Sigrid, whose idea seems both insane and somehow plausible. "He claims they can destroy worlds?" Sigrid imagines such monstrosities that could make their most trusted friend respond as such. "Then let us become the stars themselves." She raises her arms towards her near-husband. "Will you be ready?" She forlorns the pain he may go through, even if necessary. "No choice, is there?" He readies upon his spiritual bootstraps, flying off into space and into an orbit so close to the corona that he burns in its cowling.
But he uses the powers won in the tournament, absorbing all energy of its radiation, its mass, its ejected materials and corpuscles near embodying the engorging Valyria had gone through when forcing herself to become stronger, the first wave is done, 8 / 1 of the way overfilled. He waits a day, and he does so again to a doubling exponential.
As one thing he had learnt over many gigayears of spacing out, is how to implement plans over eternity. By the 100th 'Sigridal' year, he had grown in strength by ≈ 2.0371e+92 / 1 of the way, capable of destroying small brown dwarfs, but not enough. Yufren and Elissa copied these strats, them being ≈ 3.9890e+13 / 1 and ≈ 8.3325e+12 / 1, respectively. "They are breaking the game balance!" Heath would blare out with resignation, his children each comforting him in their own ways before smoothing out again while all were waiting for Skaði.
'Have you made sure the threat was predictively relative to their strength?' Heath asked them through their mind-link, with their nodding in assent. 'Good, then we-' *PHOUNK* The door that led to their room was kicked down by a force strong enough to shatter mountains, yet it only led to the door falling over, showing the physiomechanical strength of their super-materials.
"Mission.*HUFF*Complete.*Hagh*" She holds her knees in tiring fragmentation, now looking towards Heath to see her new record and with
With it being centuries, it has been a long time since she gained their marriage blessing, except for Valyria's. Who has calmed around her, but still had a hard time trusting Deities of any kind with what occurred to her Papa by the Dróttningvættr (Spiritual Queen.)
Heath had asked a few times to his daughter on what would be the best way to gain her full support, but she would not explain. Citing "I do not know." As the major voice line every time. "Sis, just tell the truth. You don't want Dad away any longer than he should, huh?" Rhoyna would roll ahead with no hidden meanings, hearing a few air gulps echo via a few nearby 'Villagers' from that comment that made the guardian Goddess have that
"Do, not. Tell, anyone!" She would pull those words through her tensing tongue, not meaning to be a threat, just angered at how see-through she can easily be. ". . . Is that what you were worried about?" She heard her Papa's voice from the doorway all the way at the front of the room, a craftily clever action to figure out what the issue may be.
Rhoyna was fine with taking the fall, even if Heath had told her no. But she wished to do it as a 'more effective' tactic in comparison to Heath's 'wait it out until she felt comfortable.' "Oh, my little darling. You do not need to worry." He would float to be her same height, both hands on her shoulders, through a personal review of each other's souls, him appearing even smaller than usual, with him in his original form. "Let me tell ya, how'bout we have a family space out?" Rhoyna asks in the background, her drolling accent thickening in excitement.
"That's a good idea, where to, then? Any thoughts?" Heath would look between them, also towards the returning Skaði, who comes through the door with a unique 'passive neurotoxin' drink like coffee, but closer to a naturally produced Death Wish Instant Coffee, strong enough to give a minor buzz to Gods.
"I saw you had a similar feature to the Butterfly Nebula, that's a good spot, no?" Sterling asks this time, a feature so far away that it was not seen by humanity until 1826. "What?" The great Huntress abandons her thoughts, with them now taking their ship again to see it as a backdrop for the window's ship. "~Oh,~ I get it now." She sees its ginormous 'wings' of multicoloured gaseous ejections, but in her opinion, it appeared closer to a moth than a rhopalocera. "Wait, this exists in real life?" Skaði would feel absconded, for why had she never seen it before?! "I will make a telescope for you to take back to Vanaheimr."
That gave another pecking kiss onto his lips before spending a 'Terran' month just resting as it was, being guarded by a large enough, hidden army to overwhelm solar systems. That month alone gave their sextuplet group enough time to further break down indignities. Though Valyria now asks to be the celebrant of the wedding, to be the ring-bearer for them.
"Sure, is there no problem with that, oh blomfegrð (Beautiful blooming?)" Heath would tappily hand her shoulder and up to her neck like a crawling spider, then pulling her in and down into an embrace that has her lifted and parallel to the floor during their lips' brushing, 1 hand on her back and the other held up by her arm like flamencos. "Of course not!" If it helps her gain their trust, she will do it. They have been around enough now that she had nearly forgotten a few times that none were her children, which goes to show what a few centenarian ages will do.
With the stream off, they danced, they sang, they played under the spatial nocturnal cloth that moved in sync to a cosmic symphony, a once-thought-of impossible achievement that now feels as normal as us breathing. She earned herself and learned to be a better person, for Heath, for the children, for herself.
"-'You make the universe more beautiful, just by being you.'" Heath was heard in the background in the bathroom, talking to himself in front of a mirror. "No, too cheesy. 'You stand in beauty: Like the mountains, reaching cloudless milieus and starry skies.'" Heath pulls back, rubbing his face with water. "*Tchs*'I wish I were the wind, to always kiss your skin, in weaving through thy hair and to carry you through every corner of the world.'" He now annoyed himself with how much it sounded like something said by that damn womaniser Lord Byron. He would ask himself while figuring out how best to tell of his deepest thoughts.
He felt a hand touch his shoulder blades. He turned around to see it was Skaði, eyes sultry in never hearing those words said to her by any of her previous lovers, showing that the glosses of the Renaissance were good for uplifting women's woes. She launched upon him like cheetahs upon gazelles, their faces locked with her passing into his lips with dualing worship.
Besetting their efforts, her hands lurched upon his large forearms, pulling each other in to an embrace most physical, their regular heights leading her up-leaning and forwards, breasts pushing into his with a softness from her leathery dress rubbing against his bushy chest. Her breath spelt a humid want of now revealed efforts. From that, her clothing fell, a soft linen braies undergarment covering her womanhood, her bosom open, to him alone. Even when in front of him, he does not rush.
They take each other's time, his hands circling from her back to her areola, groping, kneading her dough with Skaði's eagerness, playing with his beard in a pulldown to her own puckering lips in holding her moans, while trailing her other downwards over his firm stomach, reaching into his breeches to stroke along his fully reconstructed member.
Their minds connect to their deepest subconscious, a feeling of both's needs open to those they trust most with them. His size was at its desirably largest, ≈ 51.0814-Model cm (16.51-cm (6.5-in)) erected, with a rounded thickness to the ends connected by his thumb and middle finger. She pushes herself above while pushing groundwards what blocks her prize, she drops, her hips falling while grinding her now naked folds, humping her pussy onto his cock in wanton neediness. "*MGHʰ*" Their heights played to her advantage. The cravings she had were repurposed.
She licked his nipple as if its flavour were of pure sweetness, Heath now grasping the back of her head while her straddling created a loop of rising arousal in smouldering rows. He tenderly tugged her pap while moving his hand behind her, a surprise when he clenched onto her ass to lift her into a hook!
He raised and lowered her onto his dick at the speed she had originally, their bodies pressed and the hand that once played with her tit now wrapping around her neck, the thumb touching her lip while his fingers walled her thyroid cartilage in applying a pressure that worked to her fantasies. "*Lnⁿh~*" Being hoisted onto his sizable tool has made her feel impatient, the sensation of it playing with her labia and vulva making her want him to be inside her. . .
'*Hah*No.' "Not, yet." Heath would command before a sudden grasping of her bicep caused her to turn upside down from the judo-like move. He just as quickly wraps his arm around her abdomen, his second hand reaching up to then put a finger to run along her crack. On the opposite side, her slit was clear for him to see.
"Don-" Skaði's cries were silenced as he began licking her clit through running along its edge in slow thrashes, changing the stimulation by pressing onto it with the tip of his tongue and rocking it inwards before repeating, a saliva pastes over her pussy, she stifled his moans through pushing as best she could, but no one had ever done this for her! Now turning lustful, she sees the tip of his cock touching her forehead in giving a glandular kiss, the great Huntress tilts her neck into stretching over, next sucking his dick while using her tongue to do so in kind.
"*Mmh. . .*" Heath's lips between her legs trembled, the sensation just as invigorating to both our sex-crazed fools, he began gyrating his hips forwards and backwards in time to her head's jerking, her legs wrapping around his neck while thrusting over his mouth and nose.
They repeated this for 15 'Terran' minutes, both of them drenched in mouthal fluids before reaching her- "*HNn~*" -first climax. Now that she was lubed up, Heath warps them onto the bed into the cowgirl position, his hands upon her waist in wrenching. She bounced onto him as one would a dildo, the frame metallically creaking loudly, even with its strength meant to be for absorbing their strength. *Plp plap pl-plp plap-* It rang out through their room in between their moans, a paradise to their ears that sounded towards gunshots.
They could not stop, for both knew their deepest secrets, becoming perfect fucktoys to each other in providing pleasure incomprehensible, them trying enough positions to fill a varsity squad, both in members and in hormonally acting depravity. "*AHᴴhʰNᴺnⁿ!*" She came a 4th time, her wonderings now as to why he has not cum yet.
But just as she wondered, his own launched into hers with an overfilling, his expression of holding 'til the last pointed "*J'gꜷhʰhʰ. . .*" that filled her with his load, it fell out of her from its quantity, the amount making it appear creamy and white as a thick icing. Her stamina was caught. She bent forward onto his chest, the viscosity coating her groin and pubic hair into clumps. She gasped into his chest, never having sex as vitriolic as this before. But his arm slowly pulled itself over, now wrapping over to her pubes to play with her cunt.
She was raised by his other arm's folding, her spent energy meaning he held her by the armpit as he tremored his fingers at the same time as slamming her onto his own. He continued this for a while, time marching on without them.
"*HGᴳH, HGH, HGᴳ-*" Her mind seemed to be gone, her breathing ragged from being put through so much, yet she never stopped him. She wanted both of them to be happy. Seems there will be wonders as to why they were 'off' for so long.
[1] Machiavellian Realpolitik blends Niccolò Machiavelli's pragmatic, power-focused statecraft with the 19th-century German concept of Realpolitik, emphasizing practical, national interests over ideology or morals, often leading to ruthless, effective, but ethically questionable actions to maintain power and stability, seen in figures like Bismarck and Kissinger. While Realpolitik can be a neutral descriptor for realistic policy, linking it to Machiavelli adds connotations of cunning, manipulation, and amorality, as Machiavelli argued rulers must do what works, not what's ideal, even if it means cruelty or deceit, as seen in his advice for Cesare Borgia.
[2] First shown in Chapter 29. By DongLie, on Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/r/Minecraft/comments/11zl20n/artwork_of_realistic_illagers_netherite_steve/
[3] By Andrey Terentev, on ArtStation: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/2BQqJ