Frida was very thankful that she did not stay at Helga and Floki's house for dinner, as she made her way along the coast on her way back to her home. The sun was already crawling down behind the western mountains, while black clouds were rolling in over the skies like a blanket above them, bringing with them a strong and icy wind.

She smiled vastly when her eyes narrowed in on the small lights of her home in the distance, her muscles already aching from the repeating motion of rowing the small boat.

She had not left Ragnar intentionally not telling him where she was going, she had just rearranged her route home, not quite keeping up with the time.

Time…

It seemed to move so fast here in Kattegat.

To her it felt like only yesterday that she for the first time praised the small lights of the village in the horizon, on the boat from Northumbria between broad strange Norsemen, but when she looked down on her growing belly bump, it showed something different.

It was apparent now, at all times, even in the thick woolen gown that she was wearing this night. It was a gift from Helga, and it was very beautiful. The fabric was very dark, as it had been weaved from the wool of a black sheep, while the chest piece was made with gray soft wool that had not been unraveled so no wind was to slip beneath the edges.

Frida liked it very much, and she had thanked Helga so many times, wondering how she could return a gift alike. But even though she had made friends with Helga, she did not know what to give a woman like her.

Helga was very… natural. She was self-sufficient in every way, making her own clothes, growing her own crops, and using the products of the forest in ways that reminded Frida of her own mother.

A slight pain ran through her heart as she continued rowing towards the shore when she came to realize that had her mother lived in this part of the world, she would not have been burned for being good with herbs and flowers. She would have been applauded, like many applauded Helga.

Witchery is not a sin, Frida thought to herself as she pulled up the oars from the black sea water beneath her. It is a gift.

She remembered Lady Liofrun telling her that her mother always had had a thing for rabbits. Rabbit feet, meat, fur. And when Frida reached the wooden bridge of the shore, she finally knew what to give Helga, and she agreed with herself to pay Bjarni, the blacksmith, a visit when she had dined in the long-hall.

A necklace with a rabbit's foot would be perfect!

As she made her way across the village, through the marketplace and past the Seer's house, Frida was greeted repeatedly by villagers, and she smiled and waved back at them, relishing their sweet gestures. She was truthfully starting to feel like home here, more than she ever had in Northumbria.

And she loved the calmness of home.

When Frida opened the door to enter the long-hall however, her smile quickly faded.

There was a great commotion in there, a small crowd of people standing along the fire in the middle arguing loudly. Frida looked over to see many of the important people there, Rollo, Ragnar, Torstein, Lagertha, all of them, standing with deep carvings across their foreheads and dark eyes. She felt panic was over her, and she rushed over to the fire.

"It does not matter, Rollo," she heard Lagertha spit out while tossing a dry twig into the fire in frustration, "All that matters is that we take action, now."

Frida walked over to put a hand on Ragnar's shoulder.

He was warming his hands at the fire, staring into it with a blank expression in his eyes, his lips curled downwards in something that reminded her of a snarl.

"What happened?" she asked in a small voice.

Everyone's eyes turned to her when she spoke, but quickly fell down into the fire again.

"Bjarni was murdered," Rollo grumbled behind his great beard.

Frida felt a chill run down her spine and she widened her eyes. She noticed that Torstein was breathing hard. He had been great friends with him.

"What?" she cried out in surprise. It had been a while since the episode with Bjarni and the stealing of his supplies.

Ragnar growled out before he turned to stamp angrily away from the group, Frida's eyes following him carefully.

She felt her throat tighten. She thought that they had solved that problem when they punished the young man that had announced himself guilty of the theft, but apparently there were still men in Kattegat who had renounced Bjarni as a part of the village.

Some men still saw the theft as a warning of the gods for exploiting his fellow villagers, as Frida had been told by Bjørn.

Bjørn was a very good talker, and he spent much of his time debating with many different people of the village about Ragnar's decisions as king, ensuring that everyone complied and agreed on the decisions that his father made. This was something that Frida never really understood fully, as she thought Ragnar's decision-making not to be entirely colored by him as king, but by everyone in the village.

This society was very just in that way.

If there was a grand decision to be made, Ragnar would always listen to even the smallest voice in the crowd, if someone had a different take on a certain subject.

"I'll ride out for Hedeby tonight," Lagertha stated determinedly, "We'll need a new blacksmith here, and Calf owes me a favor."

Frida heard Ragnar growling from his spot over at the longtable.

"In the meantime," Lagertha continued while pointing to Bjørn that stood beside her, "You will discover who did this, talk to whomever you think could have a clue of who the guilty could be."

Lagertha's expression was hard and emotionless, and Frida inhaled sharply when she saw her eyes falling upon her. "Please, go to Bjarni's family and offer them your support. They need a soft heart to calm them down in these times."

Frida nodded, her mind still racing with questions about how anyone could have a conscience to kill a man who had a family to care for.

"Ragnar?" Lagertha voiced, and the whole group turned their heads to glare at their king, who was still standing at the longtable with his hands on the planks, staring down at it intently.

Silence filled the room as they all awaited his response. The sound of the crackling logs in the fire seemed loud and impatient, and Frida twisted her hands, a certain nervousness growing inside her.

Ragnar finally ripped his eyes away from the table, and waved his hand in Lagertha's direction. "Go," he growled at her before walking towards the fire again, "Rollo, you go with Frida to pay my respect to Bjarni's family. Make sure they have everything they need."

Rollo nodded obediently, but avoided looking at Frida when her eyes sought his.

It made her furrow her brows.

"Bjørn, do as your mother says, Torstein and I will go too."

Ragnar lifted his eyes to send a hard glare at Frida, his eyes narrowing down at her with worry flushing over them. But when she tilted her head to the side questioningly, he simply looked away.

Another wave of uneasiness washed over her body, and she searched her head for an answer to their weird looks. This could not have anything to do with her, now, could it?

She felt Rollo's hand on her shoulder, and she heard him mumbling into her ear that she was to follow him. But when Frida did not move as she wanted to have a quick word with Ragnar, Rollo simply pulled her away from the fire, towards the door that Lagertha had already exited through.

"Wait," she wailed while trying to break free from Rollo's tight grip, "I don't understand…"

But nothing did it help.

Rollo dragged her hurriedly out of the long-hall, into the dark outside.

"Rollo! I don't…"

The big man finally turned around to look at her, his eyes dark and stabbing in the cold night. He exhaled a cloud of white puff in her face, and she saw his mouth twitching into a thin line.

"You were the one denying the gods' intervention in this matter, Frida, remember?"

Frida looked up at the bearlike man, still knitting her brows in confusion.

He breathed out.

"Someone here is not agreeing with your judgment."

Frida widened her eyes.

"Oh…"