A deep sound from a rounded horn blared in the wind as Bjørn let the ax fall and slice through the neck of the horse, respectful silence spread out over the circled crowd of people who were gathered to celebrate the annual spring equinox sacrifice.

This was another celebratory day that was new to Frida.

The entire village would gather around a big fire and sacrifice animals to the gods in the hopes of having a good summer ahead of them. The blood of the animals was to be spilled into bowls, and then with twigs it would be sprayed over the fields and paths of the city, spreading fertility to the land.

Frida loved the flourishing agility that beamed from the villagers and roamed over them, creating a tense air between them all that accelerated into the ax that Bjørn held in his hands. A small line of drops of blood splashed over his cheek as the horse fell to its front knees, a giant gush of air escaping its flaring nostrils.

Frida looked at its dark eyes as they widened, their owner well aware of its destiny.

A red fountain gushed from its throat, and while two men held its head to gather the red liquids, Bjørn held the ax up into the air, his voice sounding clearly over the big crowd of people.

"Njord, Iðunn, Freyr and Freyja. Odin. Accept our gifts!"

The silence hung thick among the circle of people, the lonely horn blaring the one sound that chimed along the rushing wind.

The air was fragrant, bloomy, and while another throat of an animal was cut open, Frida closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose, inhaling all the small, mysterious and magical senses and smells that were hidden in the air of the spring.

Salt, damp earth, moist and grass traveled through her lungs and spread out over her skin, sending a light chill to spread over her body. She felt a small nudging at her arm, and she turned her head to lay her eyes down upon a couple of mossy green pearls that stared at her from behind Ragnar's shoulder, and a wide smile spread over her face, a drum beating heavily with love in her chest.

Ragnhildir giggled sweetly in her father's arms, reaching her arm up once more to send her mother a quick wave, a move she had learned recently. Frida smiled lovingly at her daughter and she sent her a small wave back, suddenly feeling a couple of icy blue crystals on her.

Her eyes traveled up to meet with Ragnar's, and he curled his lips at her before kissing Ragnhildir's thin blond hair.

The baby girl in his arms grinned at him and reached up her hand to grab at his beard, pulling roughly at it, making him squeeze his eyes together. Frida wanted to laugh out, but she quieted herself by covering her mouth with her hand and coughing a little, sensing a couple of eyes from the villagers around them.

Her heart pounded proudly in her chest as she gazed at Ragnar and their daughter. Ragnhildir was very fond of her father.

Very.

It was up to that level where Frida sometimes felt a slight pinch of jealousy in her stomach when she saw how her daughter's eyes lit up when Ragnar entered the room, how her arms immediately hovered over her chest as she expected him to pick her up, and how her whole presence would shine when she sat comfortably on his hip.

Frida always shook her head when the pinching started, because she knew that it was stupid.

She was overjoyed that Ragnar and Ragnhildir had such a loving relationship, but she also knew that the pinching grew not just out of jealousy. It was too out of fear for the day when her daughter had to wave goodbye to her father on Kattegat's harbor, when he was to go raiding in England in a couple of weeks.

He was going to be gone for many months.

And Frida did not know how Ragnhildir would respond to that.

But she had to be strong for her daughter, even though she was not sure how she herself would react to Ragnar's absence. She hated being away from him for too long, as his gaze on her filled her with such a calm that she could not find elsewhere.

And she did not want to think about all the responsibilities that were being laid upon her shoulders with Ragnar not being there. She was the one who was to sit on the throne alone, she was to decide the important matters in Kattegat while he was so far away across the great ocean, and she was to raise his children and their child without his guidance.

She was scared.

But that she had not told Ragnar. Because when she heard him rush his words, tripping over half of them, as he told her about his plans for their raid, she could not hush his excitement. And when she saw him bent over the fire with his fellow raiders, deep in concentration as they discussed strategies and plausible outcomes, she could not bring herself to call for him to join her in the bed.

She knew how important this was to him, how these adventures of his were everything he had ever dreamed of and that she wished not to stand in his way for living them out to the fullest.

Life was precious.

She had come to learn that. And not just in the way that you have to be careful and fight to survive, you also have to enjoy each moment as they pass you by, because at some unexpected turn, everything can change.

Her eyes dropped to Ragnhildir's heart shaped face, and she thought about how quickly she had gone from being a simple girl living on a poor farm in Northumbria to being a respected person in Kattegat, the queen even, the mother of a child who bears a well-known name of kin in these lands.

And while the celebration of the coming spring continued with the sacrifices and the feasting and drinking, Frida's mind was full of fast blinking images of Ragnar's departure, of life without him in Kattegat, and of Ragnhildir without her sunshine.

She sat staring into the fire as the thoughts raced around in her mind, and she did not blink until she felt a big hand being laid upon her shoulder. She tore her eyes away from the orange flames and let them rest at Ragnar's deep oceans, and she noticed the dark rings circling them while he raised his eyebrows at her.

"You okay, love?" he whispered through the shadows caused by the fire, and his hand swayed up to nudge her earlobe gently while she let her head rest against his hand, sighing out.

"Yes, it's just… I'm just tired," she breathed and sent him a half-convinced smile.

He cupped her face with his hand, while his eyes rested on hers.

The air was dry and grayish, a certain aroma of dust, wax, and smoke mingling between the villagers that were still celebrating in the long-hall. Ragnar bent himself closer to her and reached his hand down to sway over her stomach, pride shining from every corner of his face.

"Come with me to bed, then," he smiled softly, reaching her his hand while rising to his feet.

Frida was surprised that he offered her the rest of his evening alone with her, as Ragnar usually wanted to stay up until most of his guests had gone to their homes. But she gladly followed him to their bedroom, and she eagerly let her clothes fall to the floor before crawling into the warm covers of their bed while sneaking her eyes over her blanket, greedily taking in Ragnar's full frame as he stood with his back at her, looking at Ragnhildir as she slept soundly in her little crib.

The skin of his back was filled with scars from his previous battles, and she felt warmth spread through her body as she let her eyes travel her husband's body as he stood there, half naked and vulnerable, when she knew how violent and rough he seemed to others.

The very first time she had laid her eyes upon him, she had come to think of an animal of prey, a fierce and clever feline beast that was in control and had the advantage.

She smiled.

She saw him looking at her from the corner of his eye and over his shoulder, and he curled his lips into a smug smile when he noticed how she was staring, slowly turning around to face her.

Frida bit her lip and smiled shyly at him as he undid his pants, but she kept her eyes locked on his when he let them fall to the floor. Their eyes never left each other as he made his way down under the covers to slide his body up against hers, reaching his arms around her shoulders and lifting her head over to rest upon his chest.

The small hairs on his chest tickled the soft skin on her cheek lightly, but she pressed her head against his breast, his heart beat sounding loudly in her ear. She felt his eyes pierce at her face, but she kept her head burrowed there under her hair, listening intently to his pulse.

The humming caused by Ragnar speaking buzzed through her ear and sent strange tickling sensations down her body, as he said: "Now, what is troubling your heart?"

She felt one of his hands sway over the small of her back, and she tightened her grip around his torso. Frida felt her throat constricting, and she cursed how sensitive she was when carrying a child, and she soon felt something wet travel down her cheek.

She sighed out.

She knew that she might as well just tell him the truth. Ragnar was that type of person who would always sense when something was changed in you emotionally.

She bit her lips and let her eyes travel over the lean muscles on his stomach.

"I just feel," she whispered in a thin voice, "Scared."

She closed her eyes and regretted how shaky her voice had sounded. But she could not help but to cry.

She heard Ragnar breathing calmly beside her while the rain trotted gently outside upon the roof over their heads.

"Why?" he soothed above her, his breath waving over her shoulder like a warm breeze.

He pressed his lips against her hair.

She felt her lips trembling.

"Because you are going to leave."

A painful silence spread between them as the words had left her lips, and she felt tears streaming from her eyes, anxiety crawling over her heart rapidly.

Ragnar tugged some of the hair that covered her face behind her ear, and she could not hide her tears, so she lifted her eyes to look at him, feeling his stare. Ragnar's lips were formed into a straight line, and she could see that he was weighing his words in his mouth, wondering how to express himself.

He sighed out, looking at her with soft eyes.

"You will not be alone," he voiced, and she saw how he quickly pulled at his shoulders.

Frida felt guilt wash up into her mouth as she saw how his eyes had dropped and his air had changed.

She was making him feel bad. That was not her intention.

She exhaled deeply, her words breathy and long. "I'm, uh… I'm just going to miss you, Ragnar. With all of my heart. And I will not think about anything else than your safe return while you are away. I just wish…"

Her voice died out, and she let her eyes fall to his bare chest again.

Ragnar quickly lifted her chin with his hand, and sent her questioning eyes. "What do you wish?"

Their stare was intense and electrified, hot sparks shooting from the pits of Frida's stomach.

"I wish," she whispered through clenched teeth, "That we could be around each other, always."

She did not know why she felt awoken all of a sudden. As if something had caught on fire in her inside, as if an animal that had been sleeping suddenly started roaring from her pits, causing her blood to drum along her veins, flushing her cheeks with red.

Ragnar lifted his hand to stroke her lower lip with his thumb, and she thoughtlessly started kissing it. Ragnar hummed silently as Frida let one of her hands sway over his skin, her nails tracing over it gently.

"Hm, maybe you will come with me some time," he mumbled breathily as she ran her fingers over his lower abdomen, and Frida looked at him intently.

"To England?"

Her hand stopped moving for a short moment, but when he sent her a curly smile, she carried on her caressing.

"Mmh," he nodded as she trailed over his navel, clawing her nails over the fine curls of hair down there, and she smiled as she watched him enjoy her touch with eyes closed.

She imagined herself on one of the boats again, her sitting there and waiting to cast her eyes upon the shores of England once more. Something she had never imagined she would come to do again.

She giggled at the thought. Maybe she would be able to see Lady Liofrun again after all.

"Maybe," she whispered over his skin.

She planted a few soft kisses on his chest, and a low humming sounded from him as they lay there together, the room dark and silent.

She waited with her eyes closed till he had fallen asleep beside her, and she rested her head on his shoulder as she listened to his and Ragnhildir's sleeping breaths for a while in the dark of the night, relishing the moment.

This had to be one of her favorite moments.

When she, her husband and their child were all together.

She cupped her belly with her hand, a little smile creeping over her lips.

And she could not wait till their new child would join them. When Ragnar would have returned from England.