Author's Note: Hello! So I think I am improving here...I'm updating more frequently and I finally have figured out a plan for the next few chapters! One of my weaknesses was planning and having a stable plot. Up until this point, I would just write whatever, whenever the mood struck. But now I have a plot figured out besides the obvious love triangle we've got going on here. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and please review! x

Months had gone by and the people of Kattegat now hailed Ragnar Lothbrok as their King after he defeated King Horik. The village went without any further conflict and the people lived peacefully. The time for the summer raids was approaching and plans and preparations were being made. Floki was working on a new longship with the help of some of the men, along with Björn, Rollo, and Ragnar. Floki usually preferred to work alone, but the ship he had designed would be the biggest to date and any help was welcome.

Meanwhile, Freja and Rollo grew closer. Her feelings for him deepened and she found herself feeling like she had finally found where she belonged. But still, in the back of her mind lurked something...some attraction towards Ragnar. Every time they all would eat at the table in the Great Hall, she would feel his eyes on her, watching her every move. She never told Rollo. The connection she shared with his brother was her secret. Sometimes she thought about sleeping with him...maybe then the fire in her loins would cease when he looked at her. Whenever those feelings seemed to reach the surface, she would drown them with her love for Rollo.

Freja moaned in contentment as she rolled over on the bed and came into contact with Rollo's warm body. She loved waking up next to her warrior. Her bear. A bright ray of sunlight shone in through the small window and she wondered how long they had slept. She glanced at Rollo, sleeping peacefully, before she made a move to get up off the bed.

"Where do you think you are going?" Rollo's gruff sleep laden voice said from behind her. She felt strong arms wrap around her bare waist as he pulled her closer to him.

"Good morning to you too," Freja replied as he buried his face in her neck, "We must have slept through the entire morning!"

"There is nothing wrong with that," he kissed her collarbone, "We had another long night…"

Freja blushed as she felt his arousal pressed against her backside with only a fur throw between their bodies. He is insatiable, she thought as he continued placing light kisses on her neck. His feathery kisses in contrast with the roughness of his beard on her skin drove her wild. Before she knew it, he had her pinned beneath him and he was staring into her eyes with a lusty gaze. She cocked her head at him and smiled sweetly. She loved the way he looked at her with such adoration.

"What is it?" he asked, curious as to why she was smiling as if something were funny.

"Nothing," she pulled him down on her and kissed him deeply before answering him with her own question, "Do you love me, Rollo?"

He paused for a minute as he studied her face. She was a beautiful sight before him with her tousled hair, swollen lips, and flushed cheeks. When she looked at him, her eyes burned like melted gold. He had never felt about any woman the way he felt about her. He thanked the Gods every day for sending her to him. She was his goddess and in her he had found his match.

"Yes," he finally replied, "Love was never something I thought I would have. I am not my brother. I have never taken a wife. Women I have had my fair share of, but none meant anything to me. I do not know what I have done to deserve you, Freja, but you are a gift from the Gods,"

Freja was touched by Rollo's sentiment. She had never seen this side of him before. He, the fierce warrior, was opening his heart to her. She bit her lower lip and smiled before pushing him off of her and then straddling him on the bed. Her hair hung down like curtains as she kissed her lover passionately.

Ragnar sat on his throne in the Great Hall with Aslaug seated next to him as he watched Floki bring in a sickly old man who had arrived in Kattegat not long ago — a simple wanderer. The old man was dirty and dressed in raggedy clothing with a long grey beard that was matted just like the plain furs he wore over his sagging shoulders.

"Have a seat, my friend," Ragnar said as he eyed the man closely.

Floki pushed the man down into a seat in front of Ragnar. Floki's not-so-gentle contact caused the old man to start coughing. He was clearly not in good health and had been wandering for some time.

Ragnar glanced at Aslaug who had a look of blatant disgust on her face. She was clearly not enthused to be at his side, but as his Queen, it was her duty. He turned his attention to the man once more and turned his head to the side curiously.

"I found him in the fish shed feasting on salted herring," Floki said with a mischievious giggle, "And when I approached him he tried to run...but I stopped him,"

Ragnar nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off the old man. The old man looked up at Ragnar from under his hood and his eyes were clouded over with cataracts. He appeared to be blind, but his gaze seemingly met Ragnar's.

"What is your name?" Ragnar asked clearly and slowly. The old man was probably hard of hearing as well as nearly blind.

"Stígandr, my King," he spoke with a raspy and weak voice, "My name is Stígandr,"

"What brings you to Kattegat, Stígandr?" Ragnar asked as Floki paced with long strides around the old man, "...besides to eat our salted fish,"

The man began to cough again and before Floki could grab him, he was keeled over on the ground. He began coughing up blood as Aslaug turned her head away in disgust. Ragnar stood and began to slowly approach the man as Floki stood back, hands on his hips. The man was certainly ill and Ragnar hoped he did not carry a plague with him into Kattegat. He turned back and nodded at Aslaug, dismissing her to go back to their children.

"Where is it you have come from?" Ragnar asked as he crouched down next to the sick man.

The man wheezed and looked up, meeting the King's inquisitive blue eyes, "...Øresund...my King..."

Before he could be questioned any further, the old man collapsed into unconsciousness at Ragnar's feet.