"She is very beautiful. Her eyes… are so green."
Frida smiled as she threw another piece of the dried trout she had still not learned to eat over to Freke who hungrily stared at her, his body completely tensed, ready for the throw.
She turned her smile to Lagertha who sat by the fire with a little bundle in her arms.
Ragnhildir was calm, almost asleep there, and Frida felt her heart melting a little bit in her chest, as Lagertha gently swayed her body from side to side, humming a low tune.
This woman was amazing. Frida regretted not having made friends with her as closely as with Helga, but she knew that it could not be blamed on her alone. Lagertha was a very ambitious and busy woman, a woman whom you often found screaming in the middle of the training spot or in the cozy light of the long-hall where she and the king and his men would decide matters of importance.
But sometimes, you found her sitting still, in a stool by the fireplace and with a calm air surrounding her. Then the sweet gentleness that all mothers possess would shine from her eyes like a star. Just like now.
Frida smiled to herself.
"Lagertha, are we friends?" she asked in a soft voice.
The small sound of the crackling of flames licking wood danced between them as Lagertha raised her eyes to gaze at her, not blinking but with a sweet smile curling her lips.
"Well, of course we are friends, Frida. You are practically my family," she said, her arms around Ragnhildir hugging her tight for a quick moment.
Frida nodded with a smile and turned her eyes to look at the last piece of fish she had in her hand before she threw it at the wolf by her feet.
"Why?" Lagertha voiced in a slightly raised tone.
Frida looked at her with serious eyes. "Because I have something very personal to ask you."
Lagertha widened her eyes, but quickly lowered them to the small girl now sleeping in her arms.
Frida's voice sounded surprisingly calm as she added: "From one woman to another."
Frida rose from the bed and tugged her fur closer to her body before pouring them both a cup of ale. She felt Lagertha's eyes following her as she walked over to place herself beside her, reaching over the cup of ale with her eyes locked on the fire in front of them. The air was warm and smoky, even with such freezing weather outside.
Rollo's laughter was heard through the walls from the long-hall, and Frida saw out of the corner of her eye that Lagertha relaxed a bit.
Was she nervous?
Frida turned to look at her, and she smiled at her, trying her best to seem warm. Lagertha had a strange expression on her face, a face that reminded Frida of her first experience of Kattegat.
Frida cleared her throat.
"Has… Has Freyja ever visited you?" Frida breathed in a quick breath, small pink roses flowering her cheeks as the question left her lips.
This was something she had wanted to talk to somebody about, but not just anybody. It had to be a woman. A mother. Someone close to her family.
It had to be Lagertha.
Lagertha looked a little puzzled as she tilted her head at the blossoming Frida, her blond hair falling beautifully down from her shoulder. "Yes, many times."
Frida stared at her, her cheeks still colored.
"How was she?" she asked in a small voice while Ragnhildir's sweet little breathing aired between them, and Frida let her eyes fall down to her daughter.
Her heart drummed as she took in her beauty. It had not been more than a week since she had given birth to this little creature, and yet, she had grown like a flower before Frida's eyes. Stealthily gaining strength, sweetly taking form.
Lagertha's voice startled her a little, and she straightened her back in hopes of Lagertha not noticing. "Strong and determined. Yet also loving and passionate. You kind of remind me of her."
Frida's eyes widened and her breath almost got caught in her throat as she sipped from her horn.
"Me?" she creaked in a shaky voice, and on her forehead tiny pearls of sweat started to gather.
Lagertha giggled. "Yes, even if it embarrasses me to tell you. But you have impressed me. And you have too impressed the gods, as is obvious."
Her eyes traveled over to Freke who was laying on one of the deer furs that were spread over the floor.
"I think they like you. I like you."
Frida blinked several times at the beautiful Norse woman in front of her, their eyes not leaving each other's as they sat there, the fire still burning lively at their side. Her blood danced eagerly through her body.
"I like you too, Lagertha. And I am very happy that you chose to stay here with us. But I cannot help but to object to your claims about Freyja and me. If there were to be anyone in this room who possesses the same courage as the goddess, it is you. You are both love and rage, you are a mother and a shield maiden, and you have produced a very honorable son and raised him to be like his father."
Lagertha gazed at her with soft eyes before she whispered: "Thank you."
Frida nodded and took a big sip of her cup, her eyes resting on the calm fire, and she lifted her legs to warm her feet on the warm stones of the fireplace.
"Still," Lagertha raised, but she quickly clasped her lips shut when the door to the bedroom was opened, and Ragnar came strolling in.
He walked determinedly for a short moment but came to a stop when he noticed the two of them sitting there. He tilted his head with furrowed brows and gathered his hands in front of himself, resting his weight slightly on the left leg. He let out a quick breath before he slowly walked towards them, hands still folded, and a curl quickly formed in the corner of his mouth.
Frida felt warm shivers travel down her spine when her eyes connected with his, and she quickly tore her eyes over to Lagertha's. Her face was cool, and she hugged Ragnhildir slightly tighter.
Ragnar stopped in front of them, towering over them with a cute curl on his lips, his right eye twitching a little.
"Good, uh… evening?" he voiced bluntly, putting his arms to his sides while smiling crookedly. Frida rolled her eyes at his dramatic entrance, and raised her arm to grab his, nudging him gently.
"Good evening, Ragnar," Lagertha smoothed, causing his eyes to travel to her, and he nodded, breathing quickly. "Earl Ingstadt."
Lagertha shook her head and laughed at him, and she bent over to hand Ragnhildir back to her mother. Frida sighed without noticing it herself when she once again held her daughter in her arms, her heart rapidly flushing warmth. Lagertha and Frida exchanged a look between them, eyeing to each other that their conversation would continue another time.
Ragnar cupped Frida's hair, and he bent over to look at Ragnhildir.
"I asked the cook to make you some soup. It is ready if you'd like," he hummed sweetly into her ear, and he gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. "Let her sleep."
He nodded his head at Ragnhildir, and Frida turned her eyes to her sweet face. She did not want to let go of her yet. Or ever.
But Ragnar reached his hands down to take her, and she let her go with a sigh, her eyes shooting over to Freke. He was already staring at her, his silvery light shining from the rugs, and she gave a slight nod with her head.
The wolf blinked at her, and she knew that he had understood her. He was not letting anyone near her daughter.
And when Ragnar had finally pulled her away from Ragnhildir, Frida, him, and Lagertha made their way into the long-hall, where they dined at one of the small tables, enjoying their meal quietly.
While Frida sat there, she took a long look at the scenery in front of her.
Around the longtable sat many Northmen, her friends and family, a warm fire illuminating the room with a deep glow, the small flames in the candles flaring softly from the small gusts of winter air that sometimes escaped through the wooden planks of the longhouse. The sweet smell of chicken soup and smoke hung heavy in the air, and laughter and chatter sounded loudly. But never too loud.
A happy sound like that could never be too loud.
As she hugged her jug of mead between her hands, feeling the warmth spread over her skin, she smiled to herself.
Even though she had been told that winters are tough here in Kattegat, she knew that this was going to be the best winter she had ever lived.