Chapter 7: The Cave of Wonders

Kratos and Freya blinked and looked around, realizing their location in space had changed. Kratos recognized the cavern in which they now stood, the cave in the hollow tree deep beneath Midgard that had been a special place for Fey and him once. Kratos and Fey had made love with each other in this place many times. Atreus had been conceived here, Kratos remembered, and he and Fey had hoped to conceive other children also, before she fell ill and passed away. The cave had been a special place for Fey and Kratos. It was to be such a place for him and Freya now, Kratos realized, and relaxed.

“Is this...” Freya asked him, gesturing at their surroundings. “Did that ... Hallo Myrkyr cast a spell to transport us to that special place he described?”

“It would seem so,” Kratos confirmed. “It also seems that his influence has faded now, at least somewhat.” He looked at Freya. “Are you still ... Are you ready?”

“I am ready.” Freya smiled and moved towards Kratos, then embraced him, touching his forehead with hers. “Are you ready?” she asked.

“I am ready,” Kratos said, then took Freya into his arms.

What followed was a passionate intense coupling of souls, an experience hard to fully describe. Kratos and Freya embraced each other and collapsed to the floor of the cave. Their arms enveloped one another. Freya’s wings appeared and surrounded Kratos as well. Their lips touched, their tongues licked at one another’s tongues. Their hands, lips, and tongues moved over each other’s bodies. Both God of War and Goddess of Love snapped their fingers at appropriate moments. Their armor and other clothing then disappeared. Soon their nude bodies were fully displayed.

Kratos separated himself from Freya and smiled as he observed Freya’s naked body, its soft firm tanned curves displayed well by the cave’s magical lights. His gaze lingered on various areas of her body. Areas he had glanced at before, areas on which he had not allowed his gaze to linger before now, never mind that he had wanted to give Freya such attention. He let his gaze linger now on Freya’s face, her eyes, her lips. On her breasts, on her legs, on her backside and other areas of her body. Every line, every curve of Freya’s body was as beautiful to him as Lysandra’s and Fey’s bodies had ever been, Kratos realized. And that was good.

Freya smiled also as she observed Kratos’ muscles, those she had seen before and those she now was able to see more clearly. Freya glanced in particular at one certain muscular organ Kratos had that she could now fully see, smiled at it, and licked her lips. She looked back at Kratos’ eyes and smiled at them also. Kratos returned her smile and watched her as she looked over his body once more. Her gaze lingered on Kratos’ chest, his shoulders, his arms, his legs, and various other muscles. He smiled as she sighed in rapture, then beckoned him close with a ‘come hither’ gesture and look.

Kratos moved towards Freya, then stopped, frowning. Vines were suddenly rising from the ground around them, coiling towards Kratos at Freya’s direction. Kratos blinked, then remembered the magic of the cave. Fey at times wanted to use similar magic as Freya in our lovemaking, Kratos remembered. Magic of restraint, bondage and discipline. He had allowed such magic. He had thought Fey a mere mortal sorceress at the time, not a Goddess. Later he had learned she was in fact a Goddess, of course. Now another Goddess was with Kratos in this cave, wanting to use similar magic to make love with him. Kratos recalled that the cave had protective magic to only allow the magic of restraint when all participants in the cave welcomed it. Freya perceived this, Kratos recognized. He nodded and released his own power over the cave’s protective magic after quickly confirming that he could revive it with the appropriate word.

“Olives,” Kratos told Freya that word when she prompted him.

“Olives,” she repeated, nodding. Then her vines were entangling Kratos, binding him. Freya caped her wings about her like a cloak and moved towards the restrained Kratos, smiling.

“Forgive me,” she said, when he grunted and looked at her. “I was not sure you enjoyed what we are about to do with such methods.”

Kratos grunted at her to proceed. His need was throbbing now, at full attention. He glanced at his organ that expressed such need, then back at Freya. His arms and legs were restrained, but he wiggled his fingers at her and nodded. Much of their communication did not require words in this moment, and Freya understood.

“You have enjoyed it,” Freya said, judging his expression. “I see. Odin was the last person with whom I explored this form of ... attention. Before him, there were Gna and others. It was ... intense at times. Odin preferred certain aspects of such attention. I had other preferences. You and Fey, did you...?”

“Yes,” spoke Kratos. “Lysandra and I also. She was Calliope’s mother. I have enjoyed such things with other women also. You and ... Gna?”

“Sigrun also, and others among the Valkyries,” Freya listed her lovers with a smile. “We were, we are sisters in every way you might imagine. Odin demanded this of us often. I modified his demands where I could, the other Valkyries appreciated that. That was part of how I became the Valkyrie Queen. Odin insisted on being their All-Father, however, and mine also. I am not sure I want to give you such a title. Did Fey or Lysandra ever ... submit to you?”

“At times,” Kratos answered. “I also allowed them power over me at times. It was a mutual agreement.” He smiled. “More often, though, we did things without restraint. That was our preference.”

“I see,” Freya said, stroking her chin and staring at Kratos. She then raised her hands and glanced around the cave. “Well, perhaps there should be some restraint between us in the beginning. Hmm, I see there are certain magics in here for music. May I?”

“Yes,” Kratos told her. He consulted the magic lists of music, indicated a few particular tracks to Freya. “I heard this music when I fought you in Midgard, long ago. You were a wild Valkyrie called ... Vanadis.”

“Vanadis,” Freya nodded in recognition. She activated the music, then unfurled her wings and assumed a form of Vanadis. A Valkyrie helmet appeared to mask her facial features, boots with spiked heels surrounded her feet, and a whiplike sword appeared coiling in her hand. Freya’s nudity was still on full display, but the power around her was clear. The music throbbed around her and Kratos, reaching crescendo.

Kratos grunted as Freya’s whip, her hands, her lips and fingers lashed against his restrained body. It was a ballet as intense as their earlier battle, only this time they were not looking to harm one another. Agony was not Freya’s intention, only ecstasy, appreciation, and love. Kratos had similar intentions. He touched Freya when she and her vines allowed him to touch her, smiling and grunting savagely. He allowed himself to be restrained as she became familiar with his body, what excited him and what did not. He grunted as Freya paid attention to various areas of his body. Her lips kissed his. Her fingers and whip danced over his skin, accompanied by her lips and tongue. Kratos accepted Freya as his mistress, himself as her servant. He allowed her to rain down on him every agony, every ecstasy, every violation imaginable. His pleasure organ grew hard and firm under her attention. Kratos grunted as Freya closed her lips and fingers around his organ, applying suction, finger and tongue movements. He continued to grunt under her attention.

Freya sucked on Kratos’ organ for a long time, her fingers dancing away from that organ to caress other muscles on his body. She then directed the vines to hold him prisoner while she mounted his body, directed his organ to the area between her legs. Freya opened her legs and pushed herself down onto Kratos, moving against him with fervent intensity. Kratos grunted at the vines and at Freya. She nodded and released the vines, allowing him to embrace her with his arms. They moved together on the floor of the cave, thrusting against each other. Freya dropped her Vanadis whip, but retained her boots and helmet. She closed her legs about Kratos and screamed her pleasure as Kratos thrust into her, his hands gripping her rear globes, his eyes on hers. They moved together, various Godly powers exploding around them. Fire, frost, wind, vines, lightning, writhing shadows, flashing lights. Every power Kratos had ever enjoyed using, including many he had forgotten. Vessels appeared and shattered. Kratos recognized Freya’s displays of her own power, and the blessed union of their souls.

“Yes!” Freya was gasping now, writhing as she thrust her body atop his. She gasped and moaned out his name. “Kratos! KRATOS!!!”

Kratos recognized her scream. He had heard a similar scream from Freya long ago, when she pursued his wolf-drawn sled across Midgard. The cries of a falcon were echoing around him now, as they had then. Freya’s screams had a different character now, however, a different intention.

“Kratos!” she moaned his name. “KRATOS!!!”