Brokkr was drenched in sweat, arms burning, breath coming in steady gasps as he hammered away. Hadn't gotten a moment of sleep since the challenge was announced. Went straight to work. Father's revenge couldn't wait.

The only light came from the fire pit. Father never let the sun touch his creations, not until they were complete, so Brokkr would do the same. The fumes would have had another man gagging. Smelt like home to Brokkr. Smelt like power.

The blue and silvery hammer came up a final time, its runes shining with otherworldly light. The thing was too small and beautiful to be a smith's tool, but it had been father's, and with it, he created many wonders.

The hammer came down a final time with a resounding clang, rattling Brokkr's eardrums and rippling his arms with the force. He then tossed the newly forged sword in a barrel of water like his father had taught him, joining the other two he'd already made.

Hot steam filled the smithy, cooling Brokkr's skin. He was finished. Three masterwork blades, now all he needed was that accursed Völva to work her magics.

Brokkr opened the door to the forge, hot air rushing out and soon replaced by the icy chill of the mist.

“Sigyn!” he bellowed.

Several faces looked his way all armed and armored and ready for battle. An ultimately useless gesture if he didn't win. Still, no reason to not be on alert with war so close by.

Sindri, the fool, wanted to join the Vargr Tribe and conquer the rest of Germa. Eitri just wanted to raid across the sea. Until one of them was chosen as Jarl, the tribe had to remain vigilant.

The doors to the great hall opened and out came Laufey, legs unsteady with drink and Sigyn flung over his shoulder like a prize of war.

“Jarl Brokkr,” he said in greeting.

Brokkr groaned. Seemed to always do that when Laufey was around. “I'm not the Jarl yet.”

“Just speaking it in being, Jarl.”

Brokkr closed his eyes and breathed. Berating Laufy would be pointless. Him being the Jarl, a King, or a God, the foreigner couldn't be told when to shut his mouth. Fought in the square eight times for it already, winning every holmgang with ease.

“Wake her,” Brokkr ordered and Laufey smacked Sigyn's arse like she couldn't damn him to a faith worse than death.

“Aegir will drag you to the fucking depts,” Sigyn said slurring every word and the god of the seas.

Brokkr limped back into the forge while Sigyn threatened bloated corpses and eternal drowning. He pulled one of his swords from the barrel as Laufey placed the Völva in a seat.

“Work your magic on it, witch, as you did for my father,” Brokkr said, holding the blade out.

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Sigyn raised her head, looking moments away from retching and laughed. “What are you talking about?”

Brokkr clenched his fist, shaking. Always a game with this woman. “This is a fine blade, fine enough for magic.”

Sigyn smiled and fell backward, forcing Laufey to hold her still. “I wouldn't spell your works before. Why do you think I would now when your skills have yet to improve?”

Brokkr slammed a fist against the wall. “I have no time to improve! Father's revenge will not wait, so the fucking blade will have to do!”

Laufey tilted his head, a telling sign of a question to come. “You only worked on it for a day. Can you truly call it fine work?”

“Father's only took a day!”

“And you are not him,” Sigyn said.

Brokkr stood then, towering over Sigyn, the pain in his leg dulled by drawing on the dragon band's power, but then the Völva raised a hand forestalling his ire.

“I'll tell you a secret,” she continued. “But first you must close the smithy. No one you don't trust can hear this.”

Brokkr nodded and gestured for Laufey to close the door, filling the space with near-perfect darkness when he did.

Sigyn slapped her cheeks then spoke sounding almost sober. “Ivaldi spelled all his works on his own.”

Brokkr's eyes widened. “You lie!”

He would have lunged, holding the Völva off the ground, throttle the bitch claiming his father could ever be so unmanly, but a force took him off his feet, crashing him against the wall of the smithy.

“No, no, no, little Jarlling. Don't forget what I am,” Sigyn said sweetly as a horse sat upon Brokkr's chest. Laufey's hand went for his sword, but the force took him too, pinning the Thane to the wall. “I taught Ivaldi much of the other worlds. Runes and all manner of vaettir, but only he could weave magic into metal, he, and his sons.”

“He would never!”

“Oh, he did!” Sigyn was now shouting with a pale light emanating from her eyes. “There are things you will never know about the man unless you walk the same path he did!”

Like fighting against a current, Brokkr forced himself forward the slightest bit, staring Sigyn down. “Should I cut my stones then? Have a trench like you claim my father did. No! You fucking lie!”

Sigyn sauntered closer, swaying her hips seductively. “You need your stones, Ivaldi son, to fuck me until I find my release.”

“W, what? Plow you, a Völva?”

“Um, bother,” Laufey said. “Just remember she has us and no one will hear our screams.”

“She can rip out my beating heart! I'm not sticking my cock in a Völva! Better to be dead than bewitched!”

Sigyn finger slid into her trousers and by the gods, Brokkr couldn't help but rise as she play with her sex. “My trench will have no power over you, Jarling. And even if I could take your mind, was Ivaldi craven? Was he not a great man, a great father?”

“Never!” Brokkr growled.

“Our coupling will open your eyes to so many things. Or I could teach for a decade and you'd still only be half the man your father was. Either way, you'll never be Jarl without magic.”

“Then I won't be-” Brokkr paused. He needed to be Jarl. But this witch had to be lying. Father couldn't have been so unmanly.

“You can take your time to decide,” Sigyn said. “That's why you're my favorite Brokkr. Eitri and Sindri bedded me without hesitation. But what wonders will they forge with the power I've given them?” She looked over to the barrel of newly forged blades. “But they won't need anything too impressive to win against you.”

Brokkr fell back to the ground and Sigyn pressed against him, one hand on his cock and the other rubbing her scent across his face. “You'll say yes in three days. I have seen it.”

He shoved her away. “Fuck you!”

“You will,” she promised as she opened the doors and left.

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Brokkr shouted as Laufey was about to speak, and for once, the man listened.