Frida laid in the guest bed at Floki and Helga's home, naked and warm beneath the furs with her eyes closed.

The children were not sleeping in the long-hall of the house, but they had shared a bed up on their bedloft where Bjørn too had gone to sleep.

Frida heard the subtle murmur of Ragnar and Floki's voices near the fire behind the bed curtain, and she snuck her way even further down the covers, praising the nice warmth of the room.

Fall was getting closer and closer, and the cool wind was squeaking across the floors of the house.

Frida reached her hand up to the golden necklace that was pressed against her chest between her breasts. She was certain that it was a gift from the forces of the nature.

Ragnar and Bjørn were sure that it was a gift from Freyja.

Floki…

She was still not really convinced that he truly believed her. But she knew for certain that some force wanted for her to prove him something. And she had this evening, whether Floki wanted it or not.

Frida opened her eyes when the bed curtain was pulled open to see Ragnar come crawling in, his eyes red and bleary.

He was tired, she could tell, but as he pulled the curtains close, he did not collapse next to her on the bed. He rested his head in his hand, elbows on the floor of the bed, looking at her with a small curl on his lips.

Frida pushed herself up on her elbows too and smiled at him teasingly.

"Why don't you lay down, my king?"

Ragnar breathed out while rolling his eyes dramatically before squeezing them at her, passion shining from them. He gently let his hand sway over the black fur covering her body, a finger teasing her skin at the top of the cover, tickling her collarbone gently.

"I think it is funny," he whispered softly, "How our gods have such great interest in you."

Frida stared at him and him at her, his eyes piercing at her skin.

She sank hard. "I really don't know why…"

Ragnar silenced her with his finger pressing down on her lips, and he crawled up to her so that his face was inches from hers. His eyes were shining so intensely, she would have sworn that they were not of this world.

"I do," he breathed on her skin, reaching his hand up to pull her covering fur off her.

She felt her exposed skin shivering, and she watched as Ragnar bent over to kiss her belly. He let his hands rest at her small bump, and she closed her eyes when he smiled up to her, her heart swelling achingly inside her chest.

She heard him sniffling.

"The seer promised me that I would have many sons," Ragnar breathed in between small kisses that he planted on the skin of her belly, "But I know that this… she… is going to be the most beautiful girl that ever walked on the grounds of Kattegat. I know it."

Frida felt blood pulsating heavily through her body, her heart beating with life and vigor, as Ragnar rested his face on her abdomen, chuckling breathily.

"And I…" he voiced softly, "I am going to love her so."

Frida reached her hands down to cup his face, and she felt tears gather at the corner of her eyes, her throat heating immensely.

Ragnar turned his face so his forehead was leaning upon her bump, his eyes looking right into her, saying: "You hear me, sweet child? I love you, and I cannot wait to meet you."

Frida exhaled deeply.

"I love you," Ragnar whispered once more, and Frida felt goosebumps covering her skin.

"I love you," she heard herself whisper into the small space between them, her voice thick with a kind of unfamiliar passion. She closed her eyes when she felt Ragnar's face turn up towards hers, and she felt his hands grab at her hips.

She heard him breathing.

"Please," he whispered, "Tell it to me in your own tongue."

Frida finally let her eyes fall down upon him, the father of her yet to be born child, and she let the English words slip through her lips, the sound of them already tasting strange in her mouth.

Ragnar kissed her belly button, smiling through his beard.

She heard him breathe out in her language, the sound like a soothing flute in her ears: "I love you too."

And he planted small kisses on her abdomen, making her shiver, while grasping her thighs, pulling them over his broad shoulders. Frida sighed out at the sudden change of the air in the small space around them behind the bed curtain, and she blushed heavily as she felt his breath over the hair between her legs.

She heard Ragnar groan softly as he placed a heavy kiss on her lips down there, and she reached her hand down to grab his braiding, breathing out heavily.

"Ragnar, we are not alone," she breathed, her cheeks burning with passion and embarrassment, as she turned her eyes to the bed curtain beside her.

She could vaguely sense that the fire was still burning very slowly in the center of the long-hall, and she did not know whether Floki or Helga was still out there.

"Hm," he breathed out over her, her skin burning intently, "Then you better be quiet."

...

"Ragnar, for the last time… I am not going out there."

Frida's words were hard and determined, and she looked down at the comb in her hand that was resting in her lap. She heard Ragnar sigh out in frustration before he turned around to close the bedroom door behind him.

Frida felt her body relax down on the bed, and she heard the low sound of the many Vikings cheering for their king when he entered the long-hall.

Ragnar had wanted her to go out there with him, to sit beside him as his queen, but she had no intentions of doing so. Even though she knew that Ragnar and she were together, and that every Norseman out there knew it too, she could not see the reasons for her presence on the throne.

She was not a queen.

Frida started combing her hair with gentle strokes, while she bit her lower lip.

Every Sunday Ragnar would present himself on the throne to listen to his fellow villagers, to contemplate the vocations that his people brought forth to him, and to pass judgements on matters that had not been agreed upon. That was the role of the king here in Kattegat, at least one of them, and Frida was not even fairly educated enough in their Norse culture to have any say in the matters here.

She did not understand why Ragnar wanted her out there. She did not understand why he had told her that he needed her by his side, because… She was just a woman?

A small, fragile, uneducated female farmer from Northumbria, who knew so very little about the structure of their society, she was not to have influence over the villagers living here.

They knew more about how things were done than she did.

Frida sighed out with a heavy heart as she listened to Ragnar's voice through the wooden walls. A loud roar of agreement almost drowned out the sound of the door opening in front of her.

Frida looked up to see the beautiful Lagertha peeping her head inside the bedroom, her eyes quickly finding Frida on the bed. Lagertha smiled brightly at her when she stepped in, and closed the door, resting her back against it.

Frida rose to her feet and walked over to the table by the fireplace to pour her guest some ale in one of the cut cattle horns that Ragnar's servant had left there for her.

"Here," she smiled, and Lagertha accepted it thankfully before sitting down on a small stool next to the table.

Her eyes were filled with warmth as she drank silently, and Frida sat down too, biting the nail of her finger.

Lagertha was a genuinely sweet person, full of warmth and grace, but she was very strong too, confident and brave, and it always made Frida feel very small when she was in the same room as her.

Lagertha was all the things that Frida wanted to be. Free, independent, bright. She felt a hand on her arm, and she looked up at Lagertha's furrowed brows, her head tilted to the side, as she spoke: "Frida…"

"Did he send you?" Frida interrupted, but closed her lips quickly, instantly regretting her lack of respect for Lagertha's words.

But Lagertha just smiled at her. "Yes?" her voice rang like the small bells of a church, "They do that when they do not know what to do."

Frida's lips curled into a questioning smile, her thoughts not exactly following the Norse woman next to her.

"Men," Lagertha chuckled before sipping her ale slowly, answering Frida's confused stare, "They come to us women when they do not know how to handle a situation."

Frida breathed out in a chuckle, looking down on the horn in her hand that was still full.

She did not know what to say.

"You need to stand up in front of them, Frida. You need to let them see who you are, and that you are here to stay. If that is what you intend to do."

Frida felt something fall to her stomach, weighing her down in her stool. She knew that Lagertha was trying to persuade her to go out there and join Ragnar on his throne, but she also knew that she was giving her advice. From one woman to another.

Frida sighed. "But Lagertha, how can I go out there? How can I help him decide matters that I have no clue on handling? How can I…"

Her words seemed to disappear into the air, her mind filled with all sorts of questions for the lady next to her. Lagertha had done it before, she had sat there on the throne beside Ragnar, she knew what it was all about. And yet, she was telling Frida to be the one to sit next to him.

Frida gulped down the soothing liquids from her horn. It was sweet, almost tasting like mead.

"Frida," Lagertha voiced as she leaned her face closer to her, "I have known you for many moons now. I have watched you enter this land, and I have watched you prosper. They…" Lagertha reached out her hand to carefully take hold of the golden necklace that hung down over Frida's chest, "too have watched you. And they have brought you here for a reason. You and Ragnar…" Frida looked up into the eyes of Lagertha and saw a quick painful light flash over her eyes before she closed them, "are meant to be out there, together. You are carrying his child, are you not?"

Frida absentmindedly reached her hand to nudge her stomach and felt her throat warming. She nodded while closing her eyes, and she could feel her necklace falling back down on her chest.

"Ragnar will do his duty, I promise you. He will be a good father to your child, and he will be a good husband to you. So you have to do your duty too. And you will walk out there and sit by his side, and guide him when he is short of words. When he needs you."

Frida opened her eyes to stare into Lagertha's, her heart pounding hard in her chest and her blood rushing for her ears. She knew that Lagertha was right. She knew that her words were not only true, they were a lesson that Frida had to learn.

She rose to her feet, her shoulders weightless and free.

Before opening the door, Frida turned on her feet and gazed back at Lagertha. She breathed in. "I know…" Frida voiced, "that you still love him. But I want to know why you are not still with him. Please."

She could see lines carving Lagertha's forehead, shadows running down over her eyes. Lagertha rose from her stool to join Frida, her arm reaching over Frida's shoulders.

Frida heard her breathing out and she felt her hand nudging her arm. "Ragnar never asked to be in the situation he is in now. He has come a very long way, and he has learned a lot. I see the change in him. He will not make the same mistake with you as he did with me. He knows now that the betrayal of family is the betrayal of the gods. Trust him."

And with those words Lagertha and Frida walked into the long-hall, arms around each other, facing the crowd of the Norse men and women together.