"Come see!"
Your new husband was one of a kind. Not every woman could handle a man so animated with you and on occasion quiet and brooding out in public when something made him uncomfortable. It was a constant watch of your husband to make sure he was happy and healthy. But mostly fed, he was a man with an appetite that never slowed down. For a lack of another word, he was ravenous. Your eyes were fluttered closed against the pads of his fingers, waddling you out of your new home and into green pastures.
"What am I seeing baby?" You mumble, slipping your husband's hand down your face.
As soon as his fingers released, your eyes pop open to the sight of a soft white cow– of good breed, you think. "A... cow?" You look behind yourself to Hvitserk's bright wide smile.
"A wedding gift!" He says with a kiss to the side of your neck.
Oh.
Instead of a fluffy kitten or a herding dog, your husband had bought you... a cow. A fat cow at that. You knew that farmers would be flattered. But... you were a princess now, not that sweet farm girl that giggled every time Hvitserk Ragnarsson tromped through your father's garden at night just to sneak in through the tunnel underneath your house to get to you.
"Mm, he's sooo cute baby!" Your head bends toward him to get his lips off of your neck. Then you move forward, holding your hand out to the fat cow. His long pink tongue unrolls from his mouth to lick your palm. He snuffs it when he realizes you have no snacks for him. You loved cows. They were so stupid.
"What are you going to call him?" Hvitserk asks, coming to stand beside you while your cow grazes in the pasture.
"Sumar!" You giggle, a kiss to your cheek when Hvitserk leaned back on the heel of his foot.
"Make him fat for me. For winter." Hvitserk gives you a cheeky grin. You shrug it off too, he couldn't possibly mean that, could he?
He did. Or at least, he had.
"You can't kill Sumar!" You shrill at him, a piece of pottery whizzing by to smack the axe in his hand clean out of his hand. He hisses when it clatters upon the ground. You stomp clear out of their warm little cabin, out into the snow without so much as a fur to your name and storm into the barn
"(Y/N) he's just a cow!"
"He isn't just a cow to me! He's my family!" You were dramatic, flopped over the fat cow's round stomach as if Hvitserk was about to take your prized kitten. This wasn't a kitten. It was a cow. A fat, succulent cow of juicy steaks and messy ribs that he had been looking forward to all fucking summer and fall. Most of all he missed slow roasted beef of juniper and fennel or better yet! That meaty stew you would make with onion, celery and carrot. He'd beg on his knees for that on a cold winter day.
"I can buy you more family! I'm hungry!"
Hvitserk scoffs and rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, staring at you intently when you throw him that look– that one that meant to knock it the fuck off. He knows what snacks he isn't having this winter. His hand burns with the bruises beginning to form. This stupid cow– Sumar, wasn't going anywhere.
"Then Rodull." He suggests of your fat and fed pig, fetching the axe that was placed back on his belt.
"No! Do you hate me that much!"
Norns– Hvitserk scans over the many pigs and cows he's gotten you. Even the stupid chickens that you insist are good for eggs. "Babe... I'm hungry. What should we eat then?"
"Go fishing." You say with a pout. Hvitserk gawks. The water had frozen over– fish would be scarce. Or at the very least, it would be time consuming to fetch them. It served him right for buying you so many of these stupid little pets. With a growl, Hvitserk turned out of the doorway.
The gods were fucking with him today.
