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Pacies and Photographs

Copyright 2022 Della Cain
Digital ISBN: 978-1-68361-692-4
Print ISBN: 978-1-68361-693-1

Published by Decadent Publishing LLC

Table of Contents

Collared Ever After Series

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Book one in the Found by Daddy Series: Bridger’s Lost Duckie
Next in the Country, Daddy City Little Series: Precious Zane
Need More Ryder, Luke, and Daniel?
About the Author
Stepping out from behind the camera isn’t as easy as it seems.

Dax needs cash, and he needs it now since his roommate has moved away without notice. Dax has a
week to either make up the difference or break his lease. Both options are out of his price range.
When he sees an ad hiring size models for a local designer, he sees it as a chance to close his
financial gap while helping larger men, like him, get smexy clothing that actually fits.

Gary lives life looking through the lens of a camera. It was easier that way. He gets to experience life
from a distance. You don’t get hurt that way. He learned that lesson, the hard way.

When his boss calls him into a size fitting and asks him what he thinks about making the man in the
fluorescent lace manties one of their fashion models, Gary stops dead in his tracks at the sight of his
college crush looking better than ever. The last time they saw each other was at Dax’s wedding, with
Gary as the photographer. Too bad Dax is straight—or is he?

Pacies and Photographs is a second chance bi-awakening MM romance featuring a photographer

who needs to learn to step out from behind his camera, his cuddly papa bear of a college crush
who isn’t as straight as he thought, body positivity, manties, pacies galore, dragons—so many
dragons, true love, a daddy sweeter than cotton candy, and a guaranteed happy ever after. Pacies
and Photographs is book seven in the popular Collared Ever After MM romance series, each book
focusing on a new couple who finds their Kinkily Ever After at Club Collared while keeping in
touch with old friends.
Collared Ever After Series

Litigation and Lace

Lollipops and Leashes
Lipstick and Lecture Halls
Contours and Cuddles
Manties and Muffins
Sculptures and Snuggles
Pacies and Photographs
Pacies and Photographs

By
Della Cain
 Chapter One
Dax

The cool air slammed into my face as I climbed out of the rideshare. I usually took the bus home,
but after a twelve-hour day, I just didn’t have the energy. I was ready to be home, grab some dinner
then head to bed to get ready to do it all over again in the morning.
Usually my job was pretty boring. Accounts payable wasn’t one of the “exciting” career paths my
company had. But when word of an audit came through the grapevine, suddenly I was the most
important employee, and I all but moved into my office. At least it was Thursday. There was only one
day left until the weekend.
I climbed the steps of our five-story walk-up and grabbed my mail before heading up the four
flights to my destination. Most days I didn’t mind the steps, but today I was wishing we were living in
one of the fancy apartment buildings with an elevator. Not that we would move. My roommate Milo
and I both had lesser paying jobs, and the two of us were barely able to afford this place.
I flipped through the mail as I climbed the steps, not really seeing any of it. My mind was still on
all the things I had to do at work the next day. In theory, the audit was “any day,” and as much as my
boss wanted that day to be after I triple checked that everything was perfect, I wanted it over and
done with. I did things the right way the first time, and all of this extra work to prove that to myself
was less than fulfilling.
The door was ajar when I hit the landing, but I didn’t think much of it, assuming Milo just came
home. I was surprised to see two suitcases as I pushed it open with my foot.
“You’re home,” Milo squeed. “I was hoping not to miss you.”
I looked up to see him carrying a cardboard box.
“Going home for a visit?” I set my mail and keys on the side table. Milo’s family lived about two
hours from our place and he tended to go home pretty frequently to visit. His father was not having the
best medical year and, unlike me, Milo hated the city and lived for getting away from it all.
“No.” He set the box on the coffee table. “Remember when I put my name in for that promotion?”
I tried to think back to which one he was talking about. Milo was always looking for the next big
promotion in his company. “The one as group lead?” I guessed.
“No. I didn’t get that one.” He didn’t get most of them, usually because he didn’t meet the
requirements to get an interview.
Milo was very much a you don’t know if you don’t try kind of guy, and I admired that about him.
He was willing to take bold risks to get what he wanted. I tended to just stay in line like a good little
employee and hope that someone noticed. Spoiler alert: they never did.
 “I got the new position they just created, the one with ‘growth potential.’”
“You applied for that almost six months ago.” And had been disappointed when they gave it to
someone else, if I recalled correctly, which I probably didn’t, given he was bringing it up again.
“Well, they gave it to a guy in the Washington office, but then he took a job in another company
right before it started. I assumed they just dropped the entire project…but then today they called and
they want me to start next week…in Chicago.” He was practically jumping up and down. I was
excited for him. But then what he said hit me. He had bags packed and was starting next week. The
job wasn’t here. Fuck.
“Congrats. You deserve it.” Because it wasn’t his fault I was going to need to find a new
roommate in three months when the lease was up. I mean, I guessed, technically it was, but still…
“Thanks. I’m really excited. I have a few more boxes in my room, but I don’t think I can get
everything in the car. Maybe I could leave some stuff here and come back for it?”
“It’s yours for the next three months. You can leave it all here if you want.”
His eyes fell, and my stomach filled with knots. Please don’t let him be about to say what I
think he is about to say.
“About that. It’s a promotion, and they are giving me a few weeks’ housing while I find a place,
but…I won’t be able to finish out the lease. I figure with the deposit and last month’s rent we put up in
the beginning, we should be close to even.” He shoved his hands in his front pockets.
Even if I was able to collect those two months’ rent at the end, with security deposits were
notoriously known for being stolen, that still gave me multiple months’ rent I had to come up with on
my own first.
“You don’t have the money for next month?” Which was less than two weeks away.
“I don’t. But I can send you money once I get settled.” And, to his credit, I believed him. That
didn’t mean I had the savings to bridge the gap.
As part of my divorce, we had to sell the house. It would’ve been fine and dandy if we sold it for
a profit and just split the money. Only Emily and I picked the shittiest time ever to realize it was time
to part ways. The market was horrible, and we lost almost fifty grand, fifty grand we had to come up
with. I was finally recovered from that but still hadn’t managed to build up a nest egg yet.
I’d think of something. I always managed to land on my feet. I just wished I didn’t always have
to, that someone was there to catch me instead.
“Yeah, you can leave your things here. If I manage to get another roommate, I may move it all into
my room though.” I refused to shit on his parade. He wasn’t being a dick. He was a jump-first kind of
guy and, in this case, that meant only seeing his career and not all the other aspects of his life those
career choices impacted. “If you want, I can order pizza. It should be here before we get your car
packed. I’m assuming you’re stopping off at your family’s on the way?”
“I am. I want to see my dad and tell him the good news in person.”
I ordered the pizza, despite it being a shitty fiscal decision, and helped Milo down with all his
things. I should be mad at him, rip-roaring mad. He was leaving me in the lurch with bills I couldn’t
afford. Only I wasn’t. This was something he’d been wanting for as long as I knew him, and I was
happy he was finally achieving his dreams.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t freaking out about money. The second I was back in the apartment after
he left, I was on my laptop looking at all of my accounts to see if I could muster up enough cash for
this coming rent payment. The verdict: I could not.
And because my internet feed was always creepy, ads for driving rideshares for extra income
and sketchy work-at-home jobs flooded in. I didn’t have a car. The exorbitant cost of renting of a
parking spot was not worth the slight convenience. Any kind of gig work involving one was off the
table, but that didn’t mean there were no part-time jobs available to me. Maybe I could find a server
job as a stop gap. They came home with cash tips and, if I was lucky, I could possibly start
immediately. At least that was my logic when I searched for jobs near me.
There were a ton of server positions posted, but they either wanted years of experience I didn’t
have, hours I was already working, or full-time. Not a single one fit both my skill set and availability,
with one exception, but that place had a uniform, one not designed for larger bodies. I even checked
to make sure I wasn’t projecting my own past rejections onto the club, but nope. Past employees
complained that they only wanted certain-sized “eye candy” and, in their eyes, I would not be that.
I kept on scrolling the listings, broadening my search. “There has to be something here for me.” I
refused to believe in a city this size, I couldn’t manage to find a position of some sort. And then I saw
something that caught my eye, something I didn’t even know was a thing.
Wanted: Male Size Model
Small clothing designer looking for both big and tall men
Paid at time of fitting
No experience needed
The money they were quoting looked good and, when I looked up the phone number, it was Tres
Beau Manties—a company that specialized in men’s lingerie. I wasn’t sure why they wanted big and
tall men to model for them, but if they were willing to pay cash to wear underwear, I was not going to
complain.
A quick internet search told me I wasn’t even going to have to wear them for an audience or a
camera. My job would be to stand there in my chubby glory in their new design so they could see how
best to adjust the clothing to fit people of my size. It sounded like a win-win situation. There’s nothing
as frustrating when you are someone with a larger body finally finding an article of clothing you love
only to discover it’s not available in your size. I wasn’t into fancy underwear, but if I was, I’d want it
to fit properly.
“Ding. Ding. Ding. I think we have a winner.” I just hoped they didn’t really want tall
bodybuilders because I was neither of those things.
 Chapter Two
Gary

“Do you have those new samples ready for me to play with?” I asked.
The entire staff of Tres Beau Manties was sitting around the new table Beaumont had picked up
for us. He thought it would be a good idea for us to have one place we could all sit at once for
meetings that didn’t second as our lunch table. He said we needed to separate our work from our
break times. I appreciated that he was looking out for us. He always did, even when he went against
his own best interests.
As the designer and owner of one of the most up-and-coming houses in the fashion industry, he
should be making bank. Instead? Instead, he insisted on all of us making the same wage and operating
at a break-even model. Goodness knew I spent enough time trying to convince him maybe making a
profit would be better, but I had all but given up. This was how he wanted to run his business, and it
brought him joy. Who was I to mess with that?
“I don’t know. The new lace is stunning, but it isn’t really lying the way I thought it would. It’s
gorgeous. And it will be perfect when I figure the best way to utilize it.” He let out a long sigh and
leaned back in his seat. “My sample is perfect, but as I go up in size, it’s just not—I need a size model
if I’m going to make it work.”
“Why don’t you call Koty?” Koty was our size model, and he tended to be a pretty frequent
member of our crew. He would come in and be sort of a live mannequin for Beaumont. I hadn’t
realized there was even such a thing as a size model when I first started working. The only thing I
really knew about this business when I started was that they needed someone who could both
photograph human models and product stills for pretty low wages, but there was a promise of more as
the company grew, and I had been looking for a change.
According to Beaumont, there was a lot more to making various sizes than just adding or
subtracting amounts of fabric. It made sense. There was a vast difference in the way each model
looked in a given piece, even when they were the same size.
Our larger-sized pieces exploded in popularity during the past year, and I understood Beaumont
wanting to be sure to get things right instead of just good enough.
“Koty is in Florida and won’t be back until next month. He’s staying with family,” Beaumont
said. “I called him the other day. I really wanted to get the samples ready for the preorder launch on
the first.”
It was our biggest preorder launch yet, and we had plenty of items for it, items already in
production. Ideally, this line would be, too, but the lace in question had been back-ordered and only
arrived at the beginning of the past week. Time was tight.
“We can do preorders without the final sample,” Storm, one of the production guys, said.
“No,” Joel, his partner in crime, piped in, “What if the design has to be slightly different like
with the ombre we did last launch? Then people won’t get what they expect.”
“I put an ad up yesterday when you told me about Koty being out of town,” Wesley, the guy who
kept this place in some semblance of organization, offered. “Maybe there will be a nibble for a new
size model.”
I hoped so. During the last launch, the larger sizes made up almost half of our sales. Beaumont
had found a hole in the market, one we could and wanted to fill.
“Thank you. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that at the time. Honestly, if we don’t get someone,
I think I’m going to hold off on all of this style until next launch. Maybe I can figure out something else
to put in its place.” Beaumont was talking to himself more than us.
“I put in the ad that we will pay the same day. Maybe that will help catch some new eyes.”
Wesley shrugged. “Best I could think of. We’ll see.”
It would catch some new eyes. The question was if it would catch the right eyes. We didn’t
necessarily want people who needed a quick buck to come in not understanding the position. Toxic
masculinity was still a thing, even if we did our best to stay out of those circles. At least they had to
call first, avoiding people showing up and then having issues with the product line. We used to put
what the job entailed in the ads, but a couple of times they were turned down as selling sexual
content, which we weren’t. This was easier. They called, we told them exactly what was up, and they
either wanted to come in to talk with us about it, or they didn’t. Done.
We went about the rest of our business focusing on the things we needed for the preorder launch
next month. As the photographer, I had to figure out what kind of marketing designs we were looking
at, if we had all the right lights and backdrops and everything that would be required for the vision
that the team had. But that was only a tiny bit of what needed to be figured out.
I loved my job. I was in my element and beyond lucky to have a job I loved in such a creatively
free environment. I’d started out my career as a wedding photographer, and that was fine. It paid the
bills. But sometimes it wasn’t fine. They weren’t kidding when they said they were bridezillas and
groomzillas. There were plenty of them, and sometimes the amount of energy it took to not walk out
on people who were yelling at me because their cousin dressed in the wrong color or had a bad
haircut really wasn’t worth the final payout. Not to mention it pretty much sucked all my weekends up.
No, this right here was my dream job.
Sometimes you just meet the right people at the right time, and that was the case with Beaumont.
I’d have ventured to guess anyone sitting around the table would have agreed that Tres Beau Manties
was the dream job they didn’t know they were looking for.
After our meeting, we walked over to the other table where we ate lunch together. I understood
the reasoning behind getting the extra table and separating the two uses, but I couldn’t help chuckling
at the fact that we just moved tables so we could eat together when we had all been sitting together in
the first place. We ended up ordering Thai, because we almost always did.
“Maybe next time we could try the new Italian place.” I was a broken record. I still kept trying. I
didn’t mind the Thai food. I loved it even, but mixing things up wasn’t the worst idea ever.
After lunch, we all went back to work. I shut the doors to my studio and started to tackle my
mile-long to-do list. I had a pile of fabrics, too, and designs to see exactly how they would lie for the
stills, the one thing I could get started on right away. The actual models would be in next week for
their shoots. We had a group we used pretty regularly, but it wasn’t uncommon to have them move on
to bigger and better things. Our website tended to garner a lot of attention, which was great for sales
and for the models to move on up in the industry. Not so good for us when one left. A couple of times,
I tried to convince Wesley, Storm, and Joel to go in front of the camera. They each had their reasons
not to, and I respected them. I still thought having the company employees being the models would be
an interesting marketing technique. Maybe if we expanded to leisure wear, like Beaumont sometimes
mused, they would be on board.
A knock on my door startled me and, when I looked up and saw the clock, I couldn’t believe it
was after five. I’d gotten so focused on what I’d been doing, I’d completely lost track of time.
Knowing Beaumont, he was giving me a gentle nudge to go home.
“Come in.”
“Hey.” Beaumont stood in the doorway. “I’m glad you’re still here. I have someone here you
need to see for the size fitting. He might be exactly what we need for next week’s shoot.”
“Oh, okay.” That hadn’t been what I was expecting. I put the piece I’d been working on down and
headed over to his design studio.
When I opened the door, my jaw nearly dropped as my past stood there right in front of me…
wearing the sexiest manties I ever did see.
 Chapter Three
Dax

The fates were on my side and the “surprise” audit happened pretty much as soon as I walked in
the door. As I had expected, they found everything as it should be and were out the door by lunchtime.
I wanted to be, too, and let my boss know I was taking my comp time and heading out. The week had
been far too long and I was good and done.
My commute was much quicker in the middle of the day, and I was grateful for it. As stressful as
the week at work had been, my financial stress was now worse. I needed to spend the afternoon
applying for more jobs, starting with a call to Tres Beau Manties.
I was barely in the door when I called and, to my surprise, not only did they pick up right away,
but the owner answered. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was expecting the protocol to be, but it sure
wasn’t what transpired.
“Do you wear sexy lace underwear?” he point-blank asked.
“No, but I have no problem with it. I just buy the multipacks of boxer briefs and call it good.
They are really the only comfortable things they make in my size.” That must’ve been the answer he
was looking for because the next thing I knew, I was catching a bus down to his shop—warehouse—
factory? I wasn’t sure what they called it, but I was on my way there.
He greeted me at the loading dock and led me inside to his studio, explaining what he needed me
for and what his expectations were. It was all straightforward and, from what I could piece together, I
was basically a human dress form. Worked for me.
“Today I need to focus on one kind of fabric. It’s gorgeous, and I have it in three colors, but it
doesn’t lie the way I expected it to when I designed the items. That’s where you come in.” He shut the
doors behind us.
His design studio was a hot mess of fabric and machines and I didn’t even know what all. It was
chaos, and my first inclination was to clean it all up. Not the way to keep the gig.
“Let’s start with a top to get you used to the process.” He walked over to a pile of fabric and
pulled out a piece of bright-orange lace, held it up, shook his head then put it down. He did the same
with three more colors, finally walking over to me with teal lace. “I think this color suits you.” He
held it up to my face. “Yes. This will do.”
From there, it became a whirlwind of tape measures, pinnings, sewing, and adjusting and, when
he was finally happy with the result, I was wearing a teal, off-the-shoulder camisole I had to admit
looked pretty stinking good on me.
“I wasn’t sure lace would work with my body hair,” I told him as he had me walk slowly around
in front of a three-way mirror. “This really works.”
“Better than I had thought it would with this part of the lace.” He pointed to an intricate part that
wasn’t really a flower but also sort of was. I had no idea of the artist’s intentions with it, but it was
eye-catching. “I was afraid it would bunch up because my first attempt was not good.” Beaumont
stepped back. “How are you feeling about all this?”
“Fine?” Did I look like I was upset? If I did, it surely wasn’t intentional. Surprisingly, I was
having fun being the designer’s Barbie for the day.
“Do you think you will be comfortable for the next part? I want to try a few designs for the
bottoms to give buyers a choice.”
Oh. He was worried getting naked in front of a man would be the issue. It wasn’t. Some men
were jerks about things like that, thinking it made them less than. They were the same assholes who
thought being gay was gross. Even if I was straight, that wouldn’t be me.
And really, I wasn’t sure I wasn’t straight, either. I didn’t date men, but I wasn’t opposed to it.
Only once had I ever been drawn to a man and I did nothing about it because at the time, I was
already in a happy relationship. And besides, we were friends. Who wants to ruin a friendship to see
if they really did want to kiss their buddy or if it was just the hormones of youth going awry?
And after my divorce, I hadn’t dated anyone.
“Works for me. Do you need me naked?” I didn’t mind. I just didn’t want to shuck my pants and
make Beaumont uncomfortable after he’d been so considerate of my feelings.
“Underwear for now, but eventually, yeah.”
This fitting went similarly to the last one, only in the end, there were lace boy shorts, boxers, and
manties. Each of them brought out something different in the cami. I’d never been into this kind of
thing before, but I was beginning to think I now was.
“That’s all we have for this, but do you mind if I let our photographer see it on you?” he asked.
I told him it was fine, and he left, closing me in. I went back to the mirror and looked at myself. It
had been a long time since I felt this attractive, and I was wearing so much less than I normally did. I
didn’t have parts of my underwear super baggy to accommodate the larger waistband I needed, nor
did it sit so low in the front because it was that or my ass hung out. Too bad he didn’t make regular
clothing because I’d be filling my virtual cart…after I got myself out of my current financial pickle, of
course.
When I heard the door start to open, I jumped away from the mirror, a bit embarrassed about my
vanity.
“I think you’ll be impressed.” Beaumont’s voice filled the air, but he might as well not have been
there.
 Standing by his side was Gary, the one man I almost kissed, the man I sometimes still wondered
what-if about, and in his hand was a camera. This was no wedding though. This was me…in men’s
lingerie, fifty pounds heavier than the last time I saw him, and quite a few years older. Not that you
could tell any of those things by the way he was looking at me, his face lighting up.
“Dax, I didn’t know you were in town.” He came over and gave me a “man hug,” and I wanted to
lean in and make it a real one. We’d always gotten along, but after the night I realized I might maybe
want to kiss him, there was an invisible wall between us, one I put in place. “How’s Emily?”
“I moved back here for my job three years ago after our divorce.”
“I’m sorry.” He stepped back slightly.
“Don’t be. It was for the best. She wanted to live a life of corporate climbing, and I wanted to
have work not be our top priority. It was what it was.” And then I remembered Beaumont was there.
“Sorry,” I half apologized.
“I didn’t realize you knew each other. That will make what I’m about to say either far more
awkward or far less so.” Beaumont turned to Gary. “I think Dax would look great for our preorder
launch.”
“Agreed.” Gary didn’t even pause a half second before agreeing. “He’ll sell a boatload of these.
Who wouldn’t want to look this good in lace?”
I’d have thought he was being nice if this weren’t a business decision he was discussing. And
besides, I’d never known Gary to be a liar.
“What do you think? Would you be comfortable being on our website dressed in this?” Gary
asked. “Because if you wouldn’t, I’d understand. It’s pretty exposing, and you can’t take it back.
“Does it pay?” I hated to be that guy, but money was why I was there in the first place.
“Of course,” Beaumont answered. “I can show you the rates.”
“Is it as much as the fitting?” Because if it was, I was there.
“More.”
“Then I’m in, if you can accommodate my day-job schedule. I can take some time, if needed, but
not a ton.” What a great day it was turning out to be. The audit was over, I was able to figure out rent
for at least next month, and I got to see Gary again.
“No,” Gary spoke firmly. “If the only reason you are doing this is for money, no. You can’t undo
your photos being online.”
As right as he was, I could very well do this for money. In fact, I didn’t see any other choice but
to do so.
“My roommate moved out, stiffing me with rent, and I look damn good in this,” I countered. “I
think it’s a brilliant solution.”
Another random document with
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 On his way to the Volsung land Sigurd saw a man walking on the
waters, and took him on board, little suspecting that this individual,
who said his name was Feng or Fiöllnir, was Odin or Hnikar, the
wave stiller. He therefore conversed freely with the stranger, who
promised him favorable winds, and learned from him how to
distinguish auspicious from unauspicious omens.
After slaying Lygni and cutting the bloody eagle on his foes,
The fight with Sigurd left his reconquered kingdom and went with
the dragon. Regin to slay Fafnir. A long ride through the
mountains, which rose higher and higher before him,
brought him at last to his goal, where a one-eyed stranger bade him
dig trenches in the middle of the track along which the dragon daily
rolled his slimy length to go down to the river and quench his thirst.
He then bade Sigurd cower in one of those holes, and there wait
until the monster passed over him, when he could drive his trusty
weapon straight into its heart.
 SIGURD AND THE DRAGON.—K. Dielitz.

Sigurd gratefully followed this advice, and as the monster’s

loathsome, slimy folds rolled overhead he thrust his sword under its
left breast, and, deluged with blood, sprang out of the trench as the
dragon rolled aside in the throes of death.

“Then all sank into silence, and the son of Sigmund stood
On the torn and furrowed desert by the pool of Fafnir’s blood,
And the serpent lay before him, dead, chilly, dull, and gray;
And over the Glittering Heath fair shone the sun and the day,
And a light wind followed the sun and breathed o’er the fateful place,
As fresh as it furrows the sea plain, or bows the acres’ face.”

Regin, who had prudently remained at a distance until all danger

was over, seeing his foe was slain, now came up to Sigurd; and
fearing lest the strong young conqueror should glory in his deed and
claim a reward, he began to accuse him of having murdered his kin,
and declared that instead of requiring life for life, as was his right
according to Northern law, he would consider it sufficient atonement
if Sigurd would cut out the monster’s heart and roast it for him on a
spit.

“Then Regin spake to Sigurd: ‘Of this slaying wilt thou be free?
Then gather thou fire together and roast the heart for me,
That I may eat it and live, and be thy master and more;
For therein was might and wisdom, and the grudged and hoarded
lore:—
Or else depart on thy ways afraid from the Glittering Heath.’”

Sigurd, knowing that a true warrior never refused satisfaction of

some kind to the kindred of the slain, immediately prepared to act as
cook, while Regin dozed until the meat was ready. Feeling of the
heart to ascertain whether it were tender, Sigurd burned his fingers
so severely that he instinctively thrust them into his mouth to allay
the smart. No sooner had Fafnir’s blood touched his lips than he
discovered, to his utter surprise, that he could understand the songs
of the birds, which were already gathering around the carrion.
Listening to them attentively, he found they were advising him to slay
Regin, appropriate the gold, eat the heart and drink the blood of the
dragon; and as this advice entirely coincided with his own wishes, he
lost no time in executing it. A small portion of Fafnir’s heart was
reserved for future consumption, ere he wandered off in search of
the mighty hoard. Then, after donning the Helmet of Dread, the
hauberk of gold, and the ring Andvaranaut, and loading Greyfell with
as much ruddy gold as he could carry, Sigurd sprang on his horse,
listening eagerly to the birds’ songs to know what he had best
undertake next.
Soon he heard them sing of a warrior maiden fast asleep on a
The sleeping mountain and all surrounded by a glittering barrier of
warrior flames; through which only the bravest of men could
maiden. pass in order to arouse her.

“On the fell I know

A warrior maid to sleep;
Over her waves
The linden’s bane:
Ygg whilom stuck
A sleep-thorn in the robe
Of the maid who
Would heroes choose.”
Lay of Fafnir (Thorpe’s tr.).

After riding for a long while through trackless regions, Sigurd at

last came to the Hindarfiall in Frankland, a tall mountain whose
cloud-wreathed summit seemed circled by fiery flames.
“Long Sigurd rideth the waste, when, lo! on a morning of day,
From out of the tangled crag walls, amidst the cloudland gray,
Comes up a mighty mountain, and it is as though there burns
A torch amidst of its cloud wreath; so thither Sigurd turns,
For he deems indeed from its topmost to look on the best of the
earth;
And Greyfell neigheth beneath him, and his heart is full of mirth.”

Riding straight up this mountain, he saw the light grow more and
more vivid, and soon a barrier of lurid flames stood before him; but
although the fire crackled and roared, it could not daunt our hero,
who plunged bravely into its very midst.

“Now Sigurd turns in his saddle, and the hilt of the Wrath he shifts,
And draws a girth the tighter; then the gathered reins he lifts,
And crieth aloud to Greyfell, and rides at the wildfire’s heart;
But the white wall wavers before him and the flame-flood rusheth
apart,
And high o’er his head it riseth, and wide and wild its roar
As it beareth the mighty tidings to the very heavenly floor:
But he rideth through its roaring as the warrior rides the rye,
When it bows with the wind of the summer and the hid spears draw
anigh;
The white flame licks his raiment and sweeps through Greyfell’s
mane,
And bathes both hands of Sigurd and the hilt of Fafnir’s bane,
And winds about his war-helm and mingles with his hair,
But naught his raiment dusketh or dims his glittering gear;
Then it fails and fades and darkens till all seems left behind,
And dawn and the blaze is swallowed in mid-mirk stark and blind.”

No sooner had Sigurd thus fearlessly sprung into the very heart
of the flames than the fire flickered and died out, leaving nothing but
a broad circle of white ashes, through which he rode until he came to
a great castle, with shield-hung walls, in which he penetrated
 unchallenged, for the gates were wide open and no warders or men
at arms were to be seen. Proceeding cautiously, for he feared some
snare, Sigurd at last came to the center of the inclosure, where he
saw a recumbent form all cased in armor. To remove the helmet was
but a moment’s work, but Sigurd started back in surprise when he
beheld, instead of a warrior, the sleeping face of a most beautiful
woman.
All his efforts to awaken her were quite vain, however, until he
had cut the armor off her body, and she lay before him in pure-white
linen garments, her long golden hair rippling and waving around her.
As the last fastening of her armor gave way, she opened wide her
beautiful eyes, gazed in rapture upon the rising sun, and after
greeting it with enthusiasm she turned to her deliverer, whom she
loved at first sight, as he loved her.

“Then she turned and gazed on Sigurd, and her eyes met the
Volsung’s eyes.
And mighty and measureless now did the tide of his love arise,
For their longing had met and mingled, and he knew of her heart that
she loved,
And she spake unto nothing but him, and her lips with the speech-
flood moved.”

The maiden now proceeded to inform Sigurd that she was

Brunhild, according to some authorities the daughter of an earthly
king. Odin had raised her to the rank of a Valkyr, in which capacity
she had served him faithfully for a long while. But once she had
ventured to set her own wishes above his, and, instead of leaving
the victory to the old king for whom he had designated it, had
favored his younger and therefore more attractive opponent.
In punishment for this act of disobedience, she was deprived of
her office and banished to earth, where Allfather decreed she must
marry like any other member of her sex. This sentence filled
Brunhild’s heart with dismay, for she greatly feared lest it might be
her fate to mate with a coward, whom she would despise. To quiet
these apprehensions, Odin placed her on Hindarfiall or Hindfell,
stung her with the Thorn of Sleep, that she might await in unchanged
youth and beauty the coming of her destined husband and
surrounded her with a barrier of flame which none but the bravest
would venture to pass through.
From the top of the Hindarfiall, Brunhild now pointed out to
Sigurd her former home, at Lymdale or Hunaland, telling him he
would find her there whenever he chose to come and claim her as
his wife; and then, while they stood on the lonely mountain top
together, Sigurd placed the ring Andvaranaut upon her hand, in sign
of betrothal, swearing to love her alone as long as life endured.
BRUNHILD’S AWAKENING.—Th. Pixis.
“From his hand then draweth Sigurd Andvari’s ancient Gold;
There is naught but the sky above them as the ring together they
hold,
The shapen-ancient token, that hath no change nor end,
No change, and no beginning, no flaw for God to mend:
Then Sigurd cries: ‘O Brynhild, now hearken while I swear
That the sun shall die in the heavens and the day no more be fair,
If I seek not love in Lymdale and the house that fostered thee,
And the land where thou awakedst ’twixt the woodland and the sea!
And she cried: ‘O Sigurd, Sigurd, now hearken while I swear
That the day shall die forever and the sun to blackness wear,
Ere I forget thee, Sigurd, as I lie ’twixt wood and sea
In the little land of Lymdale and the house that fostered me!’”

According to some authorities, after thus plighting their troth the

lovers parted; according to others, Sigurd soon sought
The fostering
of Aslaug. out and married Brunhild, with whom he lived for a
while in perfect happiness, until forced to leave her
and his infant daughter Aslaug. This child, left orphaned at three
years of age, was fostered by Brunhild’s father, who, driven away
from home, concealed her in a cunningly fashioned harp, until
reaching a distant land he was murdered by a peasant couple for the
sake of the gold they supposed it to contain. Their surprise and
disappointment were great indeed when, on breaking the instrument
open, they found a beautiful little girl, whom they deemed mute, as
she would not speak a word. Time passed on, and the child, whom
they had trained to do all their labor, grew up to be a beautiful
maiden who won the affections of a passing viking, Ragnar Lodbrog,
King of the Danes, to whom she told her tale. After a year’s
probation, during which he won glory in many lands, he came back
and married her.

“She heard a voice she deemed well known,

Long waited through dull hours bygone,
And round her mighty arms were cast:
 But when her trembling red lips passed
From out the heaven of that dear kiss,
And eyes met eyes, she saw in his
Fresh pride, fresh hope, fresh love, and saw
The long sweet days still onward draw,
Themselves still going hand in hand,
As now they went adown the strand.”
The Fostering of Aslaug (William Morris).

The story of Sigurd and Brunhild did not end on the Hindarfial,
however, for the hero soon went to seek adventures in the great
world, where he had vowed, in true knightly fashion, to right the
wrong and defend the fatherless and oppressed.
In the course of his wanderings, Sigurd finally came to the land
The Niblungs. of the Niblungs, the land of continual mist, where Giuki
and Grimhild were king and queen. The latter was
specially powerful, as she was well versed in magic lore and could
not only weave spells and mutter incantations, but could also
concoct marvelous potions which would steep the drinker in
temporary forgetfulness and make him yield to whatever she wished.
The Niblung king was father of three sons, Gunnar, Högni, and
Guttorm, who were brave young men, and of one daughter, Gudrun,
the gentlest as well as the most beautiful of maidens. Sigurd was
warmly welcomed by Giuki, and invited to tarry awhile. He accepted
the invitation, shared all the pleasures and occupations of the
Niblungs, even accompanying them to war, where he distinguished
himself by his valor, and so won the admiration of Grimhild that she
resolved to secure him as her daughter’s husband at any price. She
therefore brewed one of her magic potions, which she bade Gudrun
give him, and when he had partaken of it, he utterly forgot Brunhild
and his plighted troth, and gazed upon Gudrun with an admiration
which by the queen’s machinations was soon changed to ardent
love.

“But the heart was changed in Sigurd; as though it ne’er had been
 His love of Brynhild perished as he gazed on the Niblung Queen:
Brynhild’s beloved body was e’en as a wasted hearth,
No more for bale or blessing, for plenty or for dearth.”

Although haunted by a vague dread that he had forgotten

something important, Sigurd asked for and obtained Gudrun’s hand,
and celebrated his wedding amid the rejoicings of the people, who
loved him very dearly. He gave his bride some of Fafnir’s heart to
eat, and the moment she had tasted it her nature was changed, and
she began to grow cold and silent to all except him. Sigurd further
cemented his alliance with the eldest two Giukings (as the sons of
Giuki were called) by stepping down into the doom ring with them,
cutting out a sod which was placed upon a shield, beneath which
they stood while they bared and slightly cut their right arms, and
allowing their blood to mingle in the fresh earth, over which the sod
was again laid after they had sworn eternal friendship.
But although Sigurd loved his wife and felt true brotherly
affection for her brothers, he could not get rid of his haunting sense
of oppression, and was seldom seen to smile as radiantly as of old.
Giuki having died, Grimhild besought Gunnar, his successor, to take
a wife, suggesting that none seemed more worthy to become Queen
of the Niblungs than Brunhild, who, it was reported, sat in a golden
hall surrounded by flames, whence she had declared she would
issue only to marry the warrior who would dare pass through the fire
to her side.
Gunnar immediately prepared to seek this bride, and
Gunnar’s strengthened by one of his mother’s magic potions,
stratagem. and encouraged by Sigurd, who accompanied him, he
felt very confident of success. But when he would
daringly have ridden straight into the fire, his steed drew back
affrighted and he could not induce him to advance a step. Seeing
that Greyfell did not flinch, he asked him of Sigurd; but although the
steed allowed Gunnar to mount, he would not stir unless his master
were on his back. Gunnar, disappointed, sprang to earth and
accepted Sigurd’s proposal to assume his face and form, ride
through the flames, and woo the bride by proxy. This deception could
easily be carried out, thanks to the Helmet of Dread, and to a magic
potion which Grimhild had given Gunnar.
The transformation having been brought about, Greyfell bounded
through the flames with his master, and bore him to the palace door,
where he dismounted, and entering the large hall came into the
presence of Brunhild, whom he failed to recognize, owing to
Grimhild’s spell. Brunhild started back in dismay when she saw the
dark-haired knight, for she had deemed it utterly impossible for any
but Sigurd to cross the flames, and she, too, did not know her lover
in his altered guise.
Reluctantly she rose from her seat to receive him, and as she
had bound herself by a solemn oath to accept as husband the man
who braved the flames, she allowed him to take his lawful place by
her side. Sigurd silently approached, carefully laid his drawn sword
between them, and satisfied Brunhild’s curiosity concerning this
singular behavior by telling her that the gods had bidden him
celebrate his wedding thus.

“There they went in one bed together; but the foster-brother laid
’Twixt him and the body of Brynhild his bright blue battle-blade,
And she looked and heeded it nothing; but, e’en as the dead folk lie,
With folded hands she lay there, and let the night go by:
And as still lay that image of Gunnar as the dead of life forlorn,
And hand on hand he folded as he waited for the morn.
So oft in the moonlit minster your fathers may ye see
By the side of the ancient mothers await the day to be.”

Three days passed thus, and when the fourth morning dawned,
Sigurd drew the ring Andvaranaut from Brunhild’s hand, replaced it
by another, and received her solemn promise that in ten days’ time
she would appear at the Niblung court to take up her duties as
queen and be a faithful wife.
GUDRUN GIVING THE MAGIC DRINK TO SIGURD.—Th.
Pixis.
“I thank thee, King, for thy goodwill, and thy pledge of love I take.
Depart with my troth to thy people: but ere full ten days are o’er
I shall come to the Sons of the Niblungs, and then shall we part no
more
Till the day of the change of our life-days, when Odin and Freya shall
call.”

Then Sigurd again passed out of the palace through the ashes
lying white and cold, and joined Gunnar, with whom he hastened to
exchange forms once more, after he had reported the success of his
venture. The warriors rode homeward together, and Sigurd revealed
only to Gudrun the secret of her brother’s wooing, giving her the fatal
ring, which he little suspected would be the cause of many woes.
True to her promise, Brunhild appeared ten days later, solemnly
blessed the house she was about to enter, greeted Gunnar kindly,
and allowed him to conduct her to the great hall, where she saw
Sigurd seated beside Gudrun. He looked up at the selfsame
moment, and as he encountered Brunhild’s reproachful glance
Grimhild’s spell was broken and he was struck by an anguished
recollection of the happy past. It was too late, however: they were
both in honor bound, he to Gudrun and she to Gunnar, whom she
passively followed to the high seat, where she sat beside him
listening to the songs of the bards.
But, although apparently calm, Brunhild’s heart was hot with
anger, and she silently nursed her wrath, often stealing out of her
husband’s palace to wander alone in the forest, where she could
give vent to her grief.
In the mean while, Gunnar, seeing his wife so coldly indifferent to
all his protestations of affection, began to have jealous suspicions
and wondered whether Sigurd had honestly told the whole story of
the wooing, and whether he had not taken advantage of his position
to win Brunhild’s love. Sigurd alone continued the even tenor of his
way, doing good to all, fighting none but tyrants and oppressors, and
cheering all he met by his kindly words and smile.
Quarrel of the One day the queens went down to the Rhine to
queens. bathe, and as they were entering the water Gudrun
claimed precedence by right of her husband’s courage. Brunhild
refused to yield what she deemed her right, and a quarrel ensued, in
the course of which Gudrun accused her sister-in-law of infidelity,
producing the ring Andvaranaut in support of her charge. Crushed by
this revelation, Brunhild hastened homeward, and lay on her bed in
speechless grief day after day, until all thought she would die. In vain
did Gunnar and all the members of the royal family seek her in turn
and implore her to speak; she would not utter a word until Sigurd
came and inquired the cause of her great grief. Like a long-pent-up
stream, her love and anger now burst forth, and she overwhelmed
the hero with reproaches, until his heart swelled with grief for her
sorrow and burst the tight bands of his strong armor.

“Out went Sigurd

From that interview
Into the hall of kings,
Writhing with anguish;
So that began to start
The ardent warrior’s
Iron-woven sark
Off from his sides.”
Sæmund’s Edda (Thorpe’s tr.).

But although he even offered to repudiate Gudrun to reinstate

her in her former rights, she refused to listen to his words, and
dismissed him, saying that she must never prove faithless to Gunnar.
Her pride was such, however, that she could not endure the thought
that two living men had called her wife, and the next time her
husband sought her presence she implored him to put Sigurd to
death, thus increasing his jealousy and suspicions. He refused to
grant this prayer because he had sworn good fellowship with Sigurd,
and she prevailed upon Högni to work her will. As he, too, did not
wish to violate his oath, he induced Guttorm, by means of much
persuasion and one of Grimhild’s potions, to do the dastardly deed.
 In the dead of night, Guttorm stole into Sigurd’s chamber, sword
Death of in hand; but as he bent over the bed he saw Sigurd’s
Sigurd. bright eyes fixed upon him, and fled precipitately.
Later on he returned and the same scene was repeated; but towards
morning, when he stole in for the third time, he found the hero asleep
and traitorously drove his spear through his back.
Mortally wounded, Sigurd raised himself in bed, grasped his
wonderful sword hanging beside him, flung it full at the flying
murderer, and cut him in two just as he reached the door. His last
remaining strength thus exhausted, Sigurd sank back, whispered a
last farewell to the terrified Gudrun, and breathed his last.

“‘Mourn not, O Gudrun, this stroke is the last of ill;

Fear leaveth the house of the Niblungs on this breaking of the morn;
Mayest thou live, O woman belovèd, unforsaken, unforlorn!
It is Brynhild’s deed,’ he murmured, ‘and the woman that loves me
well;
Naught now is left to repent of, and the tale abides to tell.
I have done many deeds in my life-days; and all these, and my love
they lie
In the hollow hand of Odin till the day of the world go by.
I have done and I may not undo, I have given and I take not again:
Art thou other than I, Allfather, wilt thou gather my glory in vain?’”

Sigurd’s infant son was also slain, and poor Gudrun mourned
over her dead in speechless, tearless grief; while Brunhild laughed
aloud, thereby incurring the wrath of Gunnar, who repented now, but
too late, of his share in the dastardly crime.
While the assembled people were erecting a mighty funeral pyre
—which they decorated with precious hangings, fresh flowers, and
glittering arms, as was the custom for the burial of a prince—Gudrun
was surrounded by women, who, seeing her tearless anguish, and
fearing lest her heart would break if her tears did not flow, began to
recount the bitterest sorrows they had known, one even telling of the
loss of all she held dear. But their attempts to make her weep were
 utterly vain, until they laid her husband’s head in her lap, bidding her
kiss him as if he were still alive; then her tears began to flow in
torrents.
The reaction soon set in for Brunhild also; her resentment was
all forgotten when she saw Sigurd laid on the pyre in all his martial
array, with the burnished armor, the Helmet of Dread, and the
trappings of his horse, which was to be burned with him, as well as
several of his faithful servants who could not survive his loss. She
withdrew to her apartment, distributed all her wealth among her
handmaidens, donned her richest array, and stretching herself out
upon her bed stabbed herself.
In dying accents she then bade Gunnar lay her beside the hero
she loved, with the glittering, unsheathed sword between them, as it
had lain when he had wooed her by proxy. When she had breathed
her last, these orders were punctually executed, and both bodies
were burned amid the lamentations of all the Niblungs.

“They are gone—the lovely, the mighty, the hope of the ancient Earth:
It shall labor and bear the burden as before that day of their birth:
It shall groan in its blind abiding for the day that Sigurd hath sped,
And the hour that Brynhild hath hastened, and the dawn that waketh
the dead:
It shall yearn, and be oft-times holpen, and forget their deeds no
more,
Till the new sun beams on Balder and the happy sealess shore.”

According to another version of the story, Sigurd was

treacherously slain by the Giukings while hunting in the forest, and
his body was borne home by the hunters and laid at his wife’s feet.
Gudrun, still inconsolable, and loathing the kindred who had thus
treacherously robbed her of all her joy, fled from her father’s house
and took refuge with Elf, Sigurd’s foster father, who, after Hiordis’s
death, had married Thora, the daughter of King Hakon. The two
women became great friends, and here Gudrun tarried several
years, working tapestry in which she embroidered the great deeds of
Sigurd, and watching over her little daughter Swanhild, whose bright
eyes reminded her so vividly of the husband whom she had lost.
 BRUNHILD.—Th. Pixis.

In the mean while, Atli, Brunhild’s brother, who was now King of
the Huns, had sent to Gunnar to demand atonement for his sister’s
 Atli, King of death; and to satisfy these claims Gunnar had
the Huns. promised that in due time he would give him Gudrun’s
hand in marriage. Time passed, and when at last Atli clamored for
the fulfillment of his promise, the Niblung brothers, with their mother
Grimhild, went to seek the long-absent Gudrun, and by their
persuasions and the magic potion administered by Grimhild
succeeded in persuading her to leave little Swanhild in Denmark and
become Atli’s wife.
Gudrun dwelt, year after year, in the land of the Huns, secretly
hating her husband, whose avaricious tendencies were extremely
repugnant to her; and she was not even consoled for Sigurd’s death
and Swanhild’s loss by the birth of two sons, Erp and Eitel. As she
lovingly thought of the past she often spoke of it, little suspecting that
her descriptions of the wealth of the Niblungs excited Atli’s greed,
and that he was secretly planning some pretext for getting it into his
power.
Finally he decided to send Knefrud or Wingi, one of his subjects,
to invite all the Niblung princes to visit his court, intending to slay
them when he should have them at his mercy; but Gudrun,
fathoming this design, sent a runic-written warning to her brothers,
together with the ring Andvaranaut, around which she had twined a
wolf’s hair. On the way, however, the messenger partly effaced the
runes, thus changing their meaning; and when he appeared before
the Niblungs, Gunnar accepted the invitation, in spite of Högni’s and
Grimhild’s warnings and the ominous dream of his new wife
Glaumvor.
Before his departure, however, they prevailed upon him to
Burial of the secretly bury the great Niblung hoard in the Rhine,
Niblung where it was sunk in a deep hole, the position of which
treasure. was known to the royal brothers only, and which they
took a solemn oath never to reveal.

“Down then and whirling outward the ruddy Gold fell forth,
As a flame in the dim gray morning flashed out a kingdom’s worth;
Then the waters roared above it, the wan water and the foam