"Helga, help!" Frida exclaimed in a laugh, "Come quick, she is trying to get in!"

Frida tried the best she could to keep the little girl out of the bath, but her arms were not entirely long enough to lift her from where she sat. Helga came running into the room and smoothly lifted the grinning Angrboda away from the warm water in which Frida was bathing, and she chuckled at the child, her eyes full of affection.

"She loves water just as much as her father," Helga smiled as she sat down at the fire pit with Angrboda on her hip. She sighed out a short chuckle that sounded like Floki's.

"This one is just a bit cleaner, isn't she?" Helga tweeted, while nudging her daughter's cheek, both of them laughing heartily.

Frida laughed with them and let one of her feet escape the warm water, mindlessly letting her finger travel the surface of the water. Her thoughts wandered.

When you leave one home behind to find another, it is only natural that you will see change in your life. Most often, this is why people leave places. To see change.

In Frida's case... Well, she had not exactly been given the choice of whether to leave her old home behind or not, but as she sat there in the warm bath, the smell of rose hip steaming lovely into the air around her, she realized that a lot of things had changed.

Of course, there had been the big stuff like the different language, the colder weather, the faith, the laws of life and such. But there had also been smaller changes, changes that she had not really noticed beneath all of the seemingly more important things.

Things such as appearance, or hygiene was one of those small things. Frida giggled to herself as her mind wandered back to her first night here in Kattegat, when she had just arrived from England. The very first thing she was told to do was actually to have a bath!

And Lagertha had come to her room, groomed her hair and offered her clothes, while Frida had not thought this peculiar at all. This would have been considered so very strange, if a king had done this in England or in any of the kingdoms that she had ever heard of.

Frida had also started cleaning her teeth. Ragnar had shown her how he did it one of the first nights they had spent together. This was also considered strange back in her old home, or at least a thing not exactly of the common folk.

But there was a certain want for cleanliness here in the North, as was very obvious to any foreigner that would happen to stumble upon a Norseman. Any Northumbrian would be shocked to hear that it is normal to bathe once a week here.

Can you imagine? Once every seven days!

Frida let her eyes wander back to Helga and Angrboða and watched the two of them with a warm heart.

She simply loved being around Helga, and she had been pleased when Ragnar told her that she was to stay there for the night. Tomorrow was the day, the most important day in Frida's life.

She was going to get married to the man she loved, to a Norseman, to the king of Denmark, to Ragnar Loðbrók, and she could not wait.

Impatience had her feeling very anxious, and she was sure that she would not be able to sleep at all tonight as her thoughts were blazing around in her head, expectations and fear fighting against each other in her mind.

She had no idea what exactly to expect from tomorrow, she had never experienced a Norse wedding before, and now she was to get wedded herself, even becoming the queen of this land.

Although she felt a certain want for running away, for hiding until it was all over, she felt in her heart a grand wish for standing in front of Ragnar right now, for promising to be by his side for the rest of her life.

Frida thanked the servant that handed her a horn of mead as she was sitting in the bathtub, her eyes still soft on the mother and daughter at the fire pit. Angrboða was a very beautiful little girl.

She had her mother's big round eyes and the prettiest curly hair, but her air was like her father's, intangible and strange, and she always seemed to understand everything around her even though she was still just a toddler.

Frida's eyes were still on the child when the sound of a howling wolf crept its way into the house from the forest outside, and she watched as the child's eyes grew big and a smile parted her lips.

Frida heard the servant hiss out nervously at the door, when another howl, closer this time, sounded around them.

"It is just Freke," Frida recognized, and she locked her eyes with Helga's who nodded smilingly.

"Let him in."

When the door was opened, Freke came creeping inside and shook his fur dry from the drops of rain that lingered on his silver coat. He quickly scanned the room and when his eyes connected with Frida's, he trotted over to lick her hand gently, like he always did.

A wild laugh left Angrboða's lips, and Frida looked at her clapping her small hands together, staring at Freke with round eyes.

Helga smiled at her daughter, but Frida noticed that her hands clasped tighter around her child, a quick nervousness flushing over her face.

"I'm sorry Helga, I just know that he will howl all night, if I don't…"

But Frida's words came to an abrupt stop when a fragile baby voice sounded between them: "Wolf!"

Frida glared at Angrboða whose eyes were still stuck on Freke.

"Wolf, wolf!" she chirped again, her voice stronger this time, the smile on her little face even wider.

Frida raised her eyes to stare at Helga, who looked like she was in shock, her eyes bigger than ever as she was glaring down at her child with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Ye… Yes, Angr," Helga stuttered, "It is a wolf."

Helga's eyes traveled over to Frida, and a wicked smile started growing on her lips. "Her first word…"

The room was silent except for the sound of wooden logs burning in the fire and Angrboða's cute little laughter.

Their silence was only broken when a servant girl stepped into the room: "My lady, a gift has been sent to you from the village."

Frida turned her eyes to look at the servant who held what seemed to be a large bundle of dark clothing in her arms, and she sat up in the tub, reaching over to grab some linen to dry her body with.

The air felt cool on her skin as she stepped out of the warm water, curious to see what somebody had sent her.

"Who is it from?" Helga asked in a strained voice as she struggled to keep her daughter from assaulting Freke with kisses, and Frida received the bundle with the same question in her mind.

It held something soft, and she carefully uncovered it.

"I mustn't tell you. I was asked only to say that it was for the wolf-girl," the servant said in a small voice.

"Thank you," Frida smiled at the servant before she hissed out in amazement as something very white was revealed in her hands.

She let the dark wrapping clothes fall to the ground as she held out an enormous white fur that she quickly recognized to be of a wolf. The fur was beautiful and very soft, Frida was sure she had never seen anything so white before in her life, not even newly fallen snow could outshine it.

She held it up in front of her, and all the women in the room sighed out in admiration. It was very large, and she could tell that it had been handled gently, the fur perfectly groomed to a silky softness. Frida felt a strong warmth spread over her body as she turned around to face Helga, holding out the fur for her to see it better.

"It is beautiful," she breathed, "Perfect for tomorrow."

Frida nodded with big eyes and swung it around her shoulders, her heart beating violently in her chest. Its warmth quickly spread over her skin as she swirled around herself.

For the wolf-girl, she thought to herself and a big smile curled her lips.

It could only be from Ragnar. She felt her blood racing through her veins as excitement shot from the pit of her stomach, her baby stirring happily inside of her.

"Oh, Helga, I cannot wait!" Frida sang out as she danced over to the fire pit, followed closely by Freke, "Now, I won't be able to sleep, that is certain."

Helga grinned at her with loving eyes, and she rose to her feet to walk over to the kettle that hung over the fire and she lifted its lid, fragrant steam clouding wildly from it.

"This will help you relax," she smiled as she poured the liquid into a horn, "It is made from Freyja's hair."

Frida received the horn gladly, and its lovely smell filled her nostrils immediately, sending shivers over her body. She recognized the scent of the flower Helga had mentioned, Freyja's hair, and she took a small sip, honey sweetness spreading over her tongue.

Calmness already wrapped around her body, and she thanked Helga before taking another sip of the milky substance.

"We should go to bed soon," Helga smiled as she stroked Angrboða's hair gently, "We will rise early tomorrow, I want to have enough time to braid your hair."

Frida nodded into her horn, her thoughts still racing inside her head.

She was wondering what Ragnar was doing and whether he was just as nervous as her. She pictured what it would feel like to step onto the boat tomorrow, knowing that she was going to sail towards Kattegat's harbor, where she was going to wed Ragnar there on the beach. She wondered how the beach would look, how many people were going to be there, and how the ceremony was to be like.

Helga had not told her much about it, she had only told her that it differed greatly from wedding to wedding. There was not one way of doing it, like there was in England, and it depended on both the couple and the person who was to speak for them.

This had made Frida a bit nervous as she pictured Floki in front of her, his dark eyes smiling at her devilishly and his slanting posture towering over her small figure.

A distant memory suddenly grew strong in her head, as she remembered the first time she had laid her eyes upon Floki, and a shiver ran down her spine.

She had thought him to be the Devil himself, his eyes scouting the inside of the church and falling upon her face like a predator, only the wish for killing prevalent in his eyes.

Frida felt Helga's hand on her arm, and she shook her head to do away with the pictures for her eyes.

"Talk to me," Helga breathed in a comforting smile, Angrboða already sleeping safely in her arms.

Frida exhaled deeply. She did not wish to insult her husband.

"I am nervous for the ceremony," Frida whispered, "Because, Floki…"

Her words silenced, and she looked down on Freke that had placed himself at her feet, not knowing how to finish her sentence. She dared not to look at Helga.

She heard her breathing out. "You should not worry about my husband. He has taken great pride in Ragnar choosing him to speak for you."

Frida felt Helga's arm around her shoulder.

"Trust me, he will do good."

Frida raised her eyes to Helga's comforting ones, and she smiled weakly.

"I always felt like he did not like me with Ragnar, that he did not trust my intentions," Frida whispered honestly, her heart heavy in her chest all of a sudden.

She watched Helga smiling at her while slowly shaking her head. "Floki has always been more careful with people from other lands than Ragnar. And while it is true that he at first could not believe that the gods had chosen you to be here with us, I am certain that he does now. The signs have merely been too strong to believe otherwise."

Frida stared at the floor in front of her while drinking the rest of the relaxing brew in her horn.

Helga's words did comfort her. She believed her.

"Now," Helga said as she rose to her feet, "Let us go to bed. The beginning of the rest of your life awaits us in the morning. Your dreams will be untroubled, I promise. That is the magic of Freyja's hair."

And Helga was right.

Frida's dreams were sweet and happy, filled with pictures of her riding a giant white wolf between Kattegat's birch trees, closely followed by Ragnar on a majestic fiery steed, the two of them laughing out in the silent forest.

She awoke when she heard the small sound of a baby girl chuckling, and the last thing she remembered from her dream was a couple of piercing blue eyes that had her heart beating deeply with love.