It was a very light night, the sky seemed to gleam with a mysterious smolder, the stars spread across it illuminant like never before as Frida stood with her head turned up at the heavens above her.

She sensed how the gentle breeze of the cool late summer air tingled her skin, the longer straws of the wild grass beneath her swaying over her shins, soothing her while the pulse of gentle drums sounded into her, drumming along her heartbeat as she let her eyes fall to the crowd of people around her in the meadow of sacrifice.

They were gathered to celebrate a final sacrifice with the royal Götaland family before they were to return to their kingdom across the sea of Kattegat the following morning. And Bjørn had not yet returned.

It filled Frida's heart with something sorrowful and pale, for she had prayed to the gods every night of the couple of weeks Ingeborg and her father had stayed with them for Bjørn's return.

She found herself shaking her head lightly.

Prayed?

When had she started to pray, really?

For a couple of seconds, images of her vomiting violently from begging her old Christian god for mercy in the boat that had dispersed her from her old life in Northumbria flashed for her eyes.

From the orphan girl of the retired nun Lady Liofrun, Fridogitha had awoken with the roars of the sea and the Northmen that surrounded her to become Frida, a mother, a wife, a queen, a prayer…

She had seen the gods' path for her develop before her living eyes, and she had walked along its wild Pagan edges only to find an even more civilized way of life, a love here in Kattegat, ready to care for her even beyond death.

Frida shook her head once more and looked to Ragnar beside her, who was holding their sleeping daughter in his arms, his eyes roaming happily over her little face as the light of the flames of the bonfire in the middle of the meadow flickered over his face.

"Óðinn!" cried the voice of Elisef all of a sudden, blasting out over the now dead silent circle of people gathered around the rock of sacrifice, startling Frida who sighed out heavily into the quiet air.

"Freyr!"

"Freyja!"

Her voice rang into Frida's ears, they blared into the sky for all living creatures around them to hear. They rang with a natural melody, curving and voluming into the air like waves of a slow current, beautifully shaped, alive, and harmonic.

Frida felt the many emotions than ran along with loud woman's eccentric cries, and she closed her eyes to let them fill her as she stood there in the crowd of villagers, of Danes and Geats, and Saxons even, who had come to this exact rock to let their gods hear their words, and to maybe even hear words of the gods.

"Þórr!" she sang, "Loke, Frigg, Aegir, all of you! We ask of you to hear us, we ask of you to see us, we ask of you to be with us!"

A long silent moment passed between the circle of people who were only lit by the calm fire of their midst, and it blasted for Frida's ears, earning for her to hum out in a small voice, wanting to break the heaviness of the quiet noise around them.

The sweet fragrances that clouded heavily into the air from the herbs and flowers that had been shed over the fire snaked their ways into the minds of every person in the meadow, spellbinding them with a smoke of sweet magic, caressing them with notes of anemone.

Frida breathed in greedily, wanting more of its intoxicating aromas. But she soon felt a sharpness in her nose too, the smell of fresh blood sliming into her nostrils, earning for her stomach to curl involuntarily.

"All, come together, come forth and open your hearts to the ones that are here, gods as well as men."

The drums still rumbled in a soft rhythm, causing some of the villagers to sway with their beats. The forest around them was black and embracing, as if nothing existed outside their small circle of light, so illuminated and vivid that Frida was certain the gods had noticed.

Ragnar's voice broke forth like a proud roar from beside her, thundering over the crowd of people, as he spoke forth: "We are here to celebrate that right now, it is light and it is calm, the warmth is still hugging our figures."

His eyes quickly traveled down to the child that was sleeping in his arms before returning to the flickering faces around him.

"In the summer, we all know, things are easier."

His eyes roamed over to Athelstan who was standing beside princess Ingeborg and her father Eysteinn.

"And there is no celebration without solidarity!"

Frida saw Ragnar's eyes seek to Floki before he gazed directly at Eysteinn, continuing: "That's why we in a moment will drink our first toast. Because to share horns means that you share your trust. It is to declare that you are not here with bad intents or hidden thoughts."

A smug smile curled over Ragnar's lips as he raised his horn to the crowd before him. "May the fall be good and this sacrifice also. Skål!"

A loud roar of people raising their horns for their king, for their village, for their country, and for their gods blasted into the sky, followed by a quick moment of quiet, all throats softened and nurtured by the sweet caress of wheat liquids.

Frida was surprised to see Ingeborg standing into the circle as the first person to sing her prayers, but she could not help but to feel a bit impressed over the immediate bravery of this girl.

Even though she had been prepared for the life of a leader, she was still just a girl.

Just like Frida.

"What we are, each and every one of us, only makes sense when we are something together."

Frida sensed her eyes hovering over Ragnar and herself, but she could not see them probably from her place further along in the circle of people.

"My father wishes for the ties of our families, of Eysteinn Beli and Regnar Loðbrók, to be sealed. And if this is the will of the gods, if this is your will, I will fight for it with all the power of my heart and my ax. All hail!"

Throats were once more softened.

Frida felt the warmth of the liquids gather in her belly like a steaming pool of bog water, glistening and mysterious, causing her breath to deepen. Her heart still beat along to the drums, and as they danced along in the dark of night, she felt herself stepping forward into the circle, eyes turning to her as she closed her own.

She could feel a smile growing over her lips as warmth dripped over her entire body now, and she knew that deep mossy green eyes were looking at her from somewhere in the crowd of people. Not those of her sleeping daughter Ragnhildir, but ones exactly alike, ones that she had seen in something between a dream and a painful nightmare.

She opened her mouth to speak words that seemed to flow independently from her mouth. They were hers, she just could not control them.

"She is the small children, dancing and playing. She is all of our senses… Vivid and wild. I declare serenity."

Frida filled her lungs with air in a slow breath, her entire body now burning with warming sensations.

"I pray to Freyja. For she is the one who never leaves me alone. She is my inner strength and force, she is the fire that warms me. She is my strength. Hail Freyja!"

"Hail Freyja," the crowd concurred in a roar, caressing their throats yet again, drowning their bellies with strong ale.

When Frida stepped back into the circle, more people stepped forth and declared their hearts into the open sky that spread above them. Some were particular, others more wide, but it was enlivening to experience the closeness of the circle of people, and how their beings formed a unity around the dancing flames of the fire in the middle of the meadow of sacrifice.

Over the rock of sacrifice lay amongst many other offerings the magnificent prey that Freke had brought home from his hunt, its majestic stags curving heroically into the air from the massive stone, its blood drippling slowly down over the gray granite beneath its wide torso.

Their gathering lasted until the night had grown completely black and only smolders were left in the bonfire, the stars above seemed to have disappeared.

Or had they grown black too?

Frida was not sure.

She was sitting snuggled up with Helga under a quilted blanket close to the warmth of the smolders in the fire pit.

Helga was chewing on food of the gods, mushrooms that had been passed on between the people around the fire.

Rollo's voice sounded from under a slurry breath made even more difficult to comprehend behind the garments he had covered his face under: "But that's just you, Floki, always so… sneaky. I could've sworn they'd seen you, but no."

Floki's snickering giggle caused Frida to smile with him, imagining the two of them trying to sneak past some guards on one of their raids in the East.

She sensed someone approaching their little group, and she turned her face to gaze upon Ragnar's broad figure closing in on them casually, Ragnhildir still resting peacefully in his arms.

He had almost carried her all night.

"Hey love, you want me to…?" Frida greeted him in a smile, raising her arms to let him rest his.

But Ragnar only shook his head once and smiled sweetly: "No, I like watching her when she sleeps. She reminds me of you."

Frida leaned over to rest at Ragnar's shoulder instead of Helga's, breathing in his musky scent as he placed a kiss on her forehead. She could see that he had eaten the mushrooms too, his eyes were flowy, as if swimming.

They still pierced into hers when he turned them to her, staring into her depths with their crystal blue light. Her breath got caught in her throat, and she had to remind herself to breathe again.

"You were beautiful before, by the way," Ragnar squinted at her with his eyes, earning Frida to blush lightly.

"So natural. Freyja heard you," he smiled smugly as he narrowed his eyes at her once more, "and the other gods are coming too."

His eyes traveled to the sky over them, as if awaiting something extraordinary to appear before him as he sat there in the dark of night. A deep and dark rumbling growled from somewhere far away over the sky, and Frida felt shivers travel over her skin as her eyes too shot to the sky above.

She felt her heart beat fasten, as her eyes turned to Ragnar once more, who was staring wildly into the sky, his eyes shining with such a light, it had to be unworldly. Frida watched in amazement as he turned his eyes back to hers, and for a short moment, she felt lightning bolts strike through her flesh and immobilize her for what felt like several minutes.

His stare was intoxicating, reviving, and she let it control her, breathing slowly out into the air.

Another rumbling of thunder roared from the sky, closer this time, and Frida felt her heart skip a beat as the thunder was moving closer, towards them in the night.

"See?" Ragnar breathed in a smug smile, and he soon rose to his feet and reached out his arm for her to grab.

"Come, they have plans for you and me."

Frida giggled. "The gods?"

She rose to her feet as quickly as she could, her head was surprisingly dizzy from all the ale she had been drinking. He stood with his back to her and turned his face around, eyeing her from out of the corner of his eyes, as she finally took his hand.

"They want us to roar with them," he whispered as he took a final glance up towards the ever-changing sky above them, where dark clouds came rolling in over the horizon with a hastened rate.

She followed him gladly, and they soon roared with the gods that thundered across the sky over the village.