"Be careful, Ubbe, you will wake her."
Frida awoke from a very deep sleep as she felt something pushing at her shoulder. With her eyes closed, her thoughts awakened lively as she was laying beneath the warm furry covers, and she heard Ragnar's raspy voice whispering to his sons beside her.
She smiled to herself, and scooted even farther down the covers, breathing out in affection.
These mornings were the best, when Ragnar had not left her side, and when the boys joined them in the bed. She heard Ivar chuckle, and she wanted to move her legs into a better position, but found them locked there beneath the giant fur.
Slightly confused and still heavy from sleep, she tucked the fur down from her face to lay her eyes upon the thing that weighed down her legs, and she widened her sore eyes.
At the end of the bed lay a silvery ball of fur, its light eyes gazing upon her face, and she inhaled in a quick breath when she remembered what had happened last night.
The juvenile wolf was still here.
It was laying on her, warming her, looking at her.
Frida turned her face to look at the small family next to her. Ragnar, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Ivar, and Sigurd were all in the bed, comfortably nuzzled up beneath the covers, Ragnar's blue eyes too resting upon her face, and a small smirk spread over his lips when he noticed that she was awake. Sigurd was sleeping in his arms, resting gently on Ragnar's arm, and Frida smiled at him, and her heart quickly filled with warmth.
"Morning," she whispered in a breathy voice, earning round-eyed stares from both Ubbe and Hvitserk.
"Good morning, love," Ragnar breathed at her, while he reached his arm around Hvitserk to stroke her hair.
All the boys except Sigurd greeted her a good morning too in chirpy voices, and Hvitserk quickly glided down on the bed, his face suddenly only inches from hers.
"Can I name him?" he breathed.
Frida looked into the innocent blue oceans in front of her, and she chuckled lightly. She felt the wolf at her feet stirring, and they let their gazes fall down to the furry ball that now had raised its head, eyeing them all carefully.
It almost looked like a dog, tame and calm at their feet, and Frida reached her hand up to stroke Hvitserk's chin.
"What would you call him then?" she asked still in a whispery voice, the sleep still not entirely washed out of it.
Hvitserk pushed himself up on his elbow, and looked down at the wolf with big proud eyes.
"Freke," he answered, "Like Odin's wolf. He too sleeps at the end of the bed, just like that one."
Frida sent a quick smile past the boy and over to Ragnar who was smirking still, contently.
"Is that so?" Frida smiled.
Hvitserk nodded eagerly, speaking in rushed words: "Yes, and we will feed him nicely, like Odin does, you know. Because he only drinks wine and mead, he feeds his wolves the food on his plate."
"I like Fenrir better," Ubbe chirped from further down the bed.
He was tucked in behind Ragnar's legs, resting his head in his hands, eyeing the wolf intently too.
Ragnar chuckled. "We will not name him Fenrir, Ubbe. This one is a good wolf."
Frida simply grinned at the now pouting boy as he sighed out, and she felt Ivar tucking at her hair.
"What do you think, Ivar?" she smiled, and she gently scooted herself up to sit on the bed, careful not to stir the wolf too much.
Ivar smiled sweetly and pointed to Hvitserk.
"Freke?" Frida smiled, and she watched him nod his head quietly, before she turned her eyes to the wolf again. It was stretching its legs now while yawning deeply, showing off its pearly white set of sharp teeth and its long tongue.
Ivar giggled.
"I think Freke is a very good name," Ragnar voiced, "And I think too that Freke is getting hungry. Ubbe, will you go get Bjørn so he can help you feed him?"
Ubbe's eyes widened before he quickly jumped down from the bed, followed closely by Hvitserk.
When Ragnar's eyes fell back to Frida, she felt warmth spread in her heart. The emotions she felt for the man beside her only grew stronger and stronger for each day.
He was just, fair, and maybe a little cocky.
But she knew that it was love, what she felt for him. For she had never been this affectionate around any man before, in fact, about any other person in her life. She pushed her lips out to send a kiss in his direction.
When a knock was heard on the door, Ragnar ordered her to stay in bed, before he rose to his feet to lay the still sleeping Sigurd down in his bed.
Bjørn peeped his head in, and greeted her with a small nod with his head and a shy smile.
"Should we leash him?" he asked as his eyes fell to Freke at the end of the bed, and he held out a robe.
Frida weighed his words while smiling at the wolf. It was looking at her intently, eyes hungry.
"No," she breathed, "and be gentle, please."
Frida saw Bjørn's eyes twitching slightly, while a certain nervousness flushed over his face as he called for the wolf to follow him. To Frida's surprise, the wolf jumped off the bed immediately at the sound of Bjørn's voice, as if he had done this a million times before, and he readily ran out of the bedroom with the door closing behind him.
It felt so natural for him to be a part of the family, and Frida made herself comfortable in the bed with a smug smile on her face.
She thought it funny that every time she would feel lost here in Kattegat, something would come along to make her see things differently, to make her heart warm, to make her feel like she belonged.
Absentmindedly, Frida grabbed the pink stone that hung from her necklace, and stroked it gently with her thumb. She was so grateful to be here, in this bed, in this land, surrounded by family, when she had never in her life had one. She wished that her mother could see her, Lady Liofrun too, and she wished that they could both have been here with her.
With her heart beating lovingly, she lifted her eyes when the door opened and Ragnar came in, quickly making his way back to the bed while pulling off his shirt, his lips curling beautifully.
"What are you thinking about, love?" he smiled as he crawled under the covers.
Frida snuggled closer to him to rest her head on his warm chest. "I'm thinking that I'm grateful. To you and to the gods."
He hummed contently, his voice spreading over her skin like a shiver. She let her eyes travel up to his face, and she could see that he was deliberating something in his mind, while he played with a lock of her hair between his fingers.
"Hey," she breathed and waved a hand in front of his face, "What are you thinking?"
Ragnar curled his lips and nudged her shoulder, his beard tickling her forehead caressingly.
"I'm thinking that I want to marry you, wolf girl. If you will have me?"
Frida widened her eyes grinningly, and she reached up her hand to grab his, weaving her fingers between his calloused ones. "Of course, I will have you, Ragnar. Is it not what the gods want, you think?"
His blue eyes narrowed down at her face, and she watched how his lips twitched slightly, his forehead carving.
Frida looked at him questioningly.
Ragnar rolled his eyes before letting them fall down on his hands.
"It is what I want," he said in a stern voice, his eyes suddenly hard.
Frida's smile faded as she sensed a different air surrounding the Viking next to her. She could see the tendons in his throat tightening slightly, a small vein pumping beneath his skin, and she wondered whether what she had said had upset him.
"What is wrong?" she asked in a small voice.
She could sense that he was trying to hide away his thoughts as he simply waved his hand at her.
She grabbed it, eyeing him even more intently. "No, what is it, love?"
Ragnar pierced her face with his hard blue crystals, his breathing calm and deep.
He sighed out.
"I just… Ever since I met you, the gods have shown me so many things… about myself, about you, about life. I once…"
His voice died out as he lifted his face to stare into the wooden loft above them. She saw him frowning, but she kept silent.
Waiting.
"I was always very close to the gods," he finally continued, "And when I came to England, I was presented with your… their god, and it really puzzled me."
Frida furrowed her brows, but her lips did not move. She could see that he was still weighing the words to say in his head.
Suddenly, his eyes connected with hers again, and he moved his face close to hers, their foreheads touching and their eyes only inches from each other.
"Do you believe that our lives are fated?"
The question hid Frida like a blow in the face, hard and intended, and she gulped down.
This had always been something that she had never really liked to think about. She had never felt the Christian god in her presence, but now that she had come to Kattegat, she knew that she had felt the Norse gods always. They had always been by her side, guiding her through emotions, dreams and animals. So in a way, they had always known what was to happen with her, right?
She bit her lip. "I, uh… I think that they watch over us, and I think they have a plan for us. I think that they make us feel things, things that guide the choices we make during our lifetime. Maybe our lives aren't exactly determined, or bound, but they are influenced, somehow, by them. So that we end up where they want us to."
Frida closed her eyes when the final word left her mouth.
She felt a warming sensation from the pit of her stomach, and she realized that this was something she actually believed in, something very real to her.
She felt Ragnar's hand cup her chin, and she opened her eyes to stare into his.
His eyes had her head swimming, and she smiled sweetly while resting her head in his hand.
The croak of a raven sounded from outside, and Ragnar turned his head lightly at the sound, a smile slowly curling up in the corner of his mouth.
"Let's marry, Frida. Soon."