It was the second day of Frida and Ragnar's wedding, and the whole village as well as the guests that had come to join them in their celebration were still gathered more or less around the longhouse, enjoying themselves however they felt like.

Some were spending their time playing board games, others held wrestling competitions, in which Frida had heard Bjørn and Rollo to have had quite the match, while other villagers were simply spread around the marketplace and having a good time in the sun chatting with their relatives and friends.

As Frida wanted to spend as much time with Ragnar as possible, because she could simply not get enough of being in his presence, she had joined him and many of their friends at a table just outside the longhouse, where they were currently playing a drinking game.

It had not come to her as a surprise that it was actually the norm in Norse culture that weddings would persist of huge amounts of strong beverages, let alone playing games that encouraged heavy drinking.

Frida had placed herself strategically, between Athelstan and Ragnar, so that they each had a woman on the other side of them, counteracting her having to join their game. She did not like being too drunk with such a big belly, as she would have to relieve herself all the time.

She was being lazy.

"Ok, we all know this game, yes?" Torstein called out from the other side of the table while he waved his arm in the air for attention, his voice already rather sluggish for a man that was about to be in a drinking contest, and Frida giggled to herself when she saw how his eyes rolled around in his head.

"We're all paired up, woman and man. When it is your turn, the woman will start drinking while the man recites a poem. When she cannot drink anymore, the horn will be passed to the man, who has to finish it while the woman finishes the poem. The pair who can drink the most without sounding drunk wins, agreed?"

Frida looked at Torstein with big eyes, and she heard Athelstan sighing out next to her. She turned her head to see his despondent expression, and she laughed heartwarmingly at him, while she padded him encouragingly on the shoulder.

"Yeah, prepare yourself, priest," Floki snickered from the other end of the table, and laughter broke out from all around the table.

Athelstan rolled his head on his shoulders, tilting it from side to side as if he was about to become violent, and Frida shook her head at him, smiling widely. This was going to be fun.

"Frida has agreed to be the judge of how well-spoken we are, so shut up when the queen speaks," Torstein's voice flared, and Frida blushed lightly as his friendly eyes locked with hers.

"And no favoring!" Rollo muttered, making Frida turn her eyes to him. "Just because he fucks well doesn't mean he drinks well."

A smug smile spread across Rollo's lips as he raised his eyebrows at Frida, and she widened her eyes while blushing heavily, earning a couple of snickers from around the table.

"Careful you're not already losing points there, brother," Ragnar smiled, and Frida felt a slight nudge on her thigh.

"Alright," Torstein laughed. "Let's have Floki and Helga start, shall we?"

Frida was very surprised to see how much the women around the table could actually drink. Floki was already half way through the poem when Helga passed him the horn, and she did not seem even out of breath when she continued the verse:

"The ruler of Danes chose him the doughty,
courage is known when the craven flee,
in the tumult of battle he needs trusty fighters,
conquest follows king who may count on his men."

The whole table cheered when Floki finished the horn, and it was soon passed on to the pair next to them, the Swedes Inge and Ake, for whom it did not take long either to drown the sweet liquids of the horn.

Next up were Athelstan and Lagertha, and Frida could not help but to listen carefully to his rhythmic words, as if almost enchanted by them as he spoke:

"And Freyja said, triumph to some, and treasure to others,
to many wisdom and skill in words, fair winds to the sailor,
to the singer his art, and a manly heart to many a hero."

The horn was passed to him, and he did quite good, earning him a couple of acknowledging nods from some of the men around the table.

And so the game continued, and while Frida listened eagerly to the many stories that were being told, she was surprised at the length of the game. It was not until the sun was on its way down over the western mountains that the game ended, with Rollo and his paired woman as the winners.

Frida would have loved for Ragnar to win over his brother, just to shut his mouth a bit, but she had had to deem him too drunk when he had been unable to pronounce the word warrior without cutting the ending off.

She was happy to finally hear a Norseman having difficulties pronouncing their tongue-twisting language too.

When they had all feasted in the long-hall and the kids had been put to sleep, Frida had joined Athelstan at a table, and he was trying to teach her the rules of a board game that she had seen a lot of the villagers play in the course of the wedding. It was a game called hnefatafl, a word that she had simply given up trying to pronounce.

However, the game had proven to be rather difficult as it centered on strategic movements in a shield wall, something that she had absolutely no idea of how to grasp, so both of them had leaned back in their chairs with their feet up on the table while they casually listened to Floki's usual story telling from over by the fire pit.

He was currently telling the story of how Freyr and Freyja had married, a story that Frida found to be very unusual.

"Athelstan, tell me something. Weren't Freyja and Freyr brother and sister?" Frida asked with her eyes on Floki's dramatic movements as he danced around the fire with swinging arms.

"Why, yes?" Athelstan answered before taking a sip of his horn, his eyes warm on her face when she turned her gaze to him.

Frida furrowed her brows. "And they married?"

She watched him nod his head at her with a silly expression flushing his face, a thin line of sweat covering his nose because of the heat circling in the long-hall.

Frida shook her head lightly with a surprised chuckle sounding from her lips.

"But that is…"

"Not how things are done in England, no," he finished in a chuckle, putting his horn down on the table.

Athelstan let his legs fall off the table before he leaned in closer to her, his eyes suddenly serious. "But they loved each other, Frida, deeply. They were not concerned with any set rules on marriage. They followed only the sounds of their hearts."

Frida furrowed her brows at him as she let his words sink in. It was strange to hear this from a man like him. She could see something travel over his eyes. She sensed his air changing slightly as she watched him, and he shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know, it just seems…" Athelstan's words came to a stop.

He lowered his eyes to the floor in front of him, another pained light traveling across his eyes. Frida breathed silently as she watched his posture slanting a little, and she opened her mouth to say something, but she was at a loss for words.

She did not know what to say.

Athelstan sighed out heavily, and she could smell the stale perfume of alcohol steaming from his breath.

"Do you ever wonder if the Christians got the story wrong?" he asked her, his eyes burning.

Frida gulped down.

Before she could open her mouth to answer, he continued.

"The Norse gods are so very old. They have been here on this Earth for a long time, a long time before Christ... And their way of doing things is just so much more..."

"Natural?" she tried in a small voice.

Athelstan narrowed his eyes at her, and he licked his lips slowly.

"Yeah," he breathed with heavy eyes. "Being here has made me question all the things that were so clear to me before, as if I am living another life, as if I am not the same that I was when I lived in England."

Frida felt a sting in her heart, a small glow of sorrow burning there.

"I never truly believed in Christ, as you well know," she said with her eyes falling to her lap. "But I never felt as alive as I do here. I never saw England as a home, but I feel like I'm home here. My mother…"

Frida's voice cracked.

She could feel Athelstan looking at her, but she could not get herself to raise her eyes from her lap. She felt something wet travel over her chin, and she quickly raised her hand to wipe the tear away, surprised that she could not speak openly about it without being affected in her heart.

When had she become this emotional?

Frida inhaled deeply before finally raising her eyes to meet his.

His eyes were soothing, and he reached his hand up to nudge her shoulder in encouragement.

She sighed. "King Ælla burned my mother for practicing witchcraft. Had we lived here, she might…"

A tightening of her throat made Frida shut her lips once more, and she closed her eyes. This was embarrassing. Why had she even mentioned her mother?

Frida felt Athelstan lifting her chin with his hand, and she opened her eyes to see him smiling heartwarmingly at her, his air calm again.

"You are with friends here, my lady. I'm sure your mother would have wanted you to be here, you could not have married a greater man. Be he English or Norse."

She felt his words traveling through her body, soothing her gently and warming her heart. He was right. Her mother would have rejoiced had she known how well Frida's life had turned out.

She raised her eyebrow at him. "You are surrounded by friends and family here too, Athelstan. And the gods look after you, just as they do me."

She saw him tilting his head at her, while he weighed her words in his head. He reached over to grab his horn from the table and after having downed the rest of its contents, he rose to his feet while holding his hand out for her to grab.

"I am still haunted by the image of Jesus Christ. But that is my curse, not yours. Come, let's not spend the night on such serious matters, let us join the others."

And before Frida could object, he pulled her along to sit down at the fire pit where most of their friends were placed. Frida kept her eyes on Athelstan as he sat down beside Bjørn with a wide smile on his lips, and a line of concern carved her forehead as she watched a quick flash of pain over his eyes.

He hid his troubles very well, she knew that now.

Frida felt a pricking sensation on her cheek, and she turned her head to see Ragnar staring at her with his blue crystals, a questioning look on his face. Frida simply shook her head and forced a smile to curl her lips.

This was indeed not the time for such serious matters.