"Loki can transform himself into a horse, and on light hooves he leaps over grasslands and beach.
Fumingly, he bridles at Sigyn, lying at the bank of beach, waiting for her lover.
But the slough will not release its hold, so she must ride him to where the earth meets the sea.
Tiredly he drops down with her over him, and once more he becomes the god.
Blood runs in his beard, but they both laugh, for their hearts are light from the ride.
Beautiful Loki, even a devil like you has a wife, the loyal Sigyn.
Sly Loki, you incite man and god for an aimless deed, but a woman loves you, and when you sneak around, she is waiting.
Once, he was just the kind flame of the fire.
One day he will be Udgård, the tied up giant beneath the earth. When he escapes, everything will fall.
But now, he is the lover of Sigyn. And isn't she lovely, your woman, running on light-feet over the beach?
Laughingly, sweet. You are so fair, my female friend.
The twilight advances from the sea and his eyes turn into coals.
Sigyn gasps when she sees him, but then she laughs. Loki, she jests. Does she blame the fire?
Never. She wedded the fire. Together they disembark the land."*
...
She was finally feeling like her normal self again. Her stomach was flat again, her muscles were growing. And with every day, she pushed herself more and more. She wanted to be strong.
Alive.
Having two twin sons was very fatiguing in itself, and while feeding them both took up much of her time during the day, Frida stayed awake late in the nights, learning and practicing everything from handy fighting techniques and rules for survival to religion and history, all things she found her curiosity spire at.
She felt very different.
As if the birth of her two new sons had evoked something inside of her that would change her life forever. A hope. A pride.
She felt like she knew who she was now.
Freyja had healed her completely. She had felt her hand in hers when she pushed out two new lives about a month ago. Her transformation had been so quick, so smooth, and so empowering, everyone in the village thanked the goddess when they saw their queen.
Frida knew that Ragnar felt it too. She could see it in his eyes. She could feel it when he took her to bed. A new kind of hope had sparked in his eyes too, yet another gleam from the other world had been lit in his beautiful blue crystals. These two crystals were often roaming over the two new twin sons of Ragnar Loðbrók, admiring the beauty that shone from them.
A very hopeful beauty.
Athelstan had called it a miracle. And Frida wondered if Ragnar thought the same thing, as she played with his hand in hers by the fire, a late evening on a normal Tyr's day, while she listened to him and Athelstan discuss a shieldwall strategy.
She knew that she should exert herself to understand better what they were saying, but they used many words that she did not know what meant, she had given up some time ago. But she listened peacefully to them either way, with her imagination running wild as she looked into the fire.
She liked the air that always surrounded the two of them when they had those kinds of conversations. It was an intelligent air, a vivid one, and it helped her gather her thoughts.
This strange feeling that had spired in her ever since the birth of Ragnvald and Halfdan had made her obsessed with the idea of creating something that would hold the image of the gods in them, something they would like.
And she had finally figured out what she wanted to do.
She noticed the flames creeping a bit closer to her before she felt the change of air, as he stepped into the long-hall.
She felt two black coals staring at her for a brief moment before she turned her eyes to see the figures of Helga and Floki by the door. Frida locked eyes with Floki for a mere second, but she quickly tore her eyes away, as a cold chill ran down her spine, reminding her of the first time she had laid her eyes upon this man.
His stare was so intense and wicked. The eyes of a spiritual being.
Ragnar and the others around the fire in the center of the long-hall cheered when they too noticed the arrival of their friends, and Helga and Floki soon joined them in their small circle. They sat down at the other side of the fire from Frida, and she smiled widely at them as they hurled off their furs, making themselves comfortable in Frida and Ragnar's home.
Frida loved this. This feeling of community and friendship. Of family.
"It is good to see you again, my dear friends," Ragnar smiled as he waved his hand for one of the servants to bring them some ale. His voice was warm, and it made Frida's belly tingle.
"Indeed, welcome," Frida cheered with her horn raised at them before she took a healthy sip.
A warm feeling spread through her veins as she downed the ale, a feeling of fire licking over her presence. She turned her eyes to Ragnar, as Helga and Floki thanked them for their hospitality, and she noticed him widening his eyes at something Floki passed to the small group around the fire, before he turned to curl his lips at her, his eyes shining wildly.
A question was tingling in the corner of his mouth, and it made her smile questioningly at him. His stare was intoxicating.
"Will you eat the food of the gods with me?" he rasped in a soft voice, causing a warm melting feeling to shoot from Frida's stomach.
Her eyes quickly turned to the small bowl that was passed around the fire, the white mushrooms shred freely between them, and she felt a little nervous tingle in her belly, as she turned her eyes back to Ragnar.
His smile was smug, and it made her giggle.
"If you promise to take care of me?" she breathed shortly, a little nervous smile on her lips as she saw him take the bowl.
Athelstan had eaten a couple.
The light in Ragnar's eyes actually felt cooling as she looked at him, the sensation of fire licking over her skin still prevalent in the air around her.
"Always," he soothed in a cool voice, before he filled his mouth with the white forest growths, his eyes not leaving hers.
When Ragnar reached his hand over to feed Frida some of the white mushrooms, she felt the black coals returning to her figure, and the sensation of fire licking over her grew stronger. She turned her eyes to Floki from the other side of the flames, and she saw him raise his eyebrows questioningly at her, causing her to giggle as she chewed the dry whites.
This was the first time Frida tried them.
The taste was very earthy and stale, and she did not like it very much, so she quickly raised her horn to flush them down, her brows furrowing quickly. She heard Ragnar chucking beside her.
"Here," Ragnar breathed, and she looked down to see two more of the long white mushrooms held in front of her, and she quickly shook her head.
She heard Floki's voice over the fire, sneaking into her ears like warm flames: "It will make you see clearer."
His words were followed by a small nervous giggle, and Frida felt the weight of Ragnar's hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to, if you don't wa…"
His words died out when Frida bent over his fingers and ate the mushrooms from them. When she smiled back at him, she heard him hissing out silently, and he changed position in his chair. He ran his hand along his beard and sent her widened eyes, causing her to giggle out.
She felt his hand traveling from her shoulder to the small of her back before returning back to her neck, cupping her head with strong fingers as he leaned over to plant a hard kiss on her cheekbone.
He passed the bowl on as he was leaning in over her, and she felt her cheeks blushing from the small fire that had started to burn from the pits of her stomach. But this fire was soon followed by another sensation, a flowing and funnily slow sensation shooting out through her veins.
It tickled like water running alongside her blood, and she leaned back in her chair, feeling Ragnar's arm hugging her close to him. His musky smell filled her nostrils and calmed her a little bit. The smoke from the fire danced lightly around in the air between them, and she closed her eyes.
She felt the change inside her slowly prevailing more and more. It was as if an army of ants came to life inside of her, life moving deliberately and quickly in her chest. Her cheeks were soon on fire, and her eyes felt slow.
She let them swim over to the fire, but it was as if they could not really focus on anything in particular, as if they were just observing but not looking. She heard herself giggle. The air in the long-hall was very warm, filled with laughter and chatter from the late guests.
Frida leaned back in her chair and rested her neck along the wooden backrest, letting her eyes stare into the wooden loft above them. She saw a raven up there in the shadows, staring down upon her.
And she smiled.
She knew that they were not alone. She knew that a god was among them, but she did not know who it was. But the fire that was traveling over her skin, the heating sensation that constantly burned her dried out throat told her that a couple of warm eyes were watching them in this very moment.
She felt excited, thrilled, and she smiled widely as she looked at the raven. It looked like it had three eyes, but she must have been mistaken.
"Are you okay, my love?" Ragnar's voice suddenly snaked into her ear, and she felt herself opening her eyes, breathing in a late breath.
When had she closed her eyes?
Frida felt a slight tingling still running through her veins, shooting out from her nerves and muscles, bubbling lightly in her stomach. "Yes," she smiled as she sat up straight in her chair, her eyes traveling around the men and women around the fire.
Frida's eyes locked with a couple of unfamiliar ones, two dark ones, in the skull of a man sitting behind Floki and Helga. They were black like coal, and he stared at her, freezing her motionless in her chair as she took in the sight of him.
He was a very large man, with long dark hair that looked silky soft, falling over his broad shoulders in curves. His eyebrows were thick, while his beard looked sharp and alive in the light of the fire, framing his stunning facial features beautifully.
Frida heard herself inhaling sharply.
He was dressed in beautiful ropes, a leathery armor covered in silver rings across his chest, and broad iron patches covering his shoulders. Dark ropes hung from them. She narrowed his eyes at them to see what the symbol in them was, but he was too far away for her to see.
She saw him chuckling at her, but the sound never reached her ear.
She blinked a couple of times. She had never seen this man before in her life, and yet, he was sitting there, smiling at her as if they had done it a thousand times before. She tilted her head at him, and bent slightly forward.
Their eyes were still locked.
The man suddenly opened his mouth and whispered, slow and silent words that rang loudly for her ears, burning her like flames: "Thirsty I came to the hall, and a long way I have wandered. To the Asir I beg for one to grant me, if you please, but a sip of your most precious mead."
Frida let her eyes travel around the group of people around the fire, and wondered why no one had questioned the presence of this man yet. But no one seemed to notice him.
No one except for Floki.
Frida saw him twitching his body slightly towards the man, letting his eyes travel secretly to the man behind him. He soon turned his eyes to look at Frida, and he giggled manically when he saw that she had noticed him too.
The man repeated his words in the same tone: "Please, Asir, I am thirsty from my long journey."
Floki turned to look at her with the same burning eyes like the strange man next to him. For a moment, she thought that she saw them switching places, but she shook her head, her veins still tingling heavily. She raised her hand.
"Thyra, could you serve us some mead, please."
A thin "Yes, my lady," sounded from behind, and Frida locked her eyes with the strange man once more.
She could sense Floki looking at him too. She did not know how to speak to him. It was as if words did not really work between them somehow. She saw Floki making a weird twitching movement with his hand over his forehead, and she soon felt Ragnar nudging her arm lightly.
She only turned her head slightly, not wanting to break her eyes from the man. "What, love?"
"What do you feel?" he asked in a deep voice.
It sent vibrations down her spine.
She smiled. "A raven has come," she stated bluntly, her eyes finding Thyra as the servant poured mead into the many drinking horns around the fire.
Floki passed the strange man a horn too, and they raised their horns at her, and she repeated the motion. The heat around the fire was unbearable, and Frida soon felt sweat pearls gather under her hairline.
Floki giggled devilishly, before all three of them drank healthy sips of the honey liquids.
And Frida felt the change of air immediately, when she lowered her horn. The mysterious heat was suddenly gone, like by the brush of a cool wind, and Frida widened her eyes to see that the man had disappeared from his place behind Helga and Floki.
The raven was no longer sitting on one of the wooden logs in the ceiling.
Frida quickly let her eyes travel to Floki, and she sucked in a short breath when she saw the light in his eyes, black burning coal staring at her from behind dark circles. Frida blinked for a couple of times before she heard him hissing out.
His eyes were their normal ocean blue again.
She sighed out, and noticed a small curl on Floki's lips. She narrowed her eyes at him.
Yes, she was definitely going to ask Floki for help with her new idea.
She finally felt like they understood each other.
As the night continued, Frida felt her eyelids beginning to weigh, and she leaned her head on Ragnar's shoulder next to her, sighing out contently as she stared into the fire. It was beautiful when controlled, fire.
She saw the image of her mother flashing by for her eyes.
An arm swooped around her, and she felt Ragnar hugging her tight to him, letting her head rest against his neck.
He planted a kiss over her hair. "Will you join me in bed, love?" his voice drummed into her ear, and she closed her eyes sweetly and smiled jokingly.
"Carry me."
But Ragnar did not think it was a joke, and she soon saw him rising to his feet before feeling two strong arms pulling her body upwards, her head soon hanging down over Ragnar's broad back. She laughed out in surprise as she felt one of Ragnar's hands traveling up under her dress, his fingers clenching roughly around one of her buttocks.
Frida blushed heavily.
"Excuse us, we will… retreat for tonight. Make yourselves at home. Goodnight, friends." Ragnar's words sounded serious and controlled, and Frida giggled lamely from her position over Ragnar's shoulder.
He soon started walking her to their bedrooms, and she reached up her hand to wave back at the people around the fire, causing a couple of laughs to bark from between the small group.
She felt anticipation blending in with the tingling watery sensation in her blood, and she was relieved when Ragnar finally let her down on their bed, the blood rushing back to her head and making her slightly dizzy.
She watched him stand next to the bed, simply watching her as he stood there. She started unwrapping the chest piece of her dress, pulling slowly at its bindings. The braided Viking stared at her with a heaving chest and a visible vein pumping angrily in his right temple, and he soon started to uncover himself too in swift movements.
As they journeyed together* in the night, Ragnar handled her very gently, his body crouched over her like an animal devouring its prey, but treating her with silky touches, breathing out over her collectedly as he sent waves of pleasure over her body.
And she felt her heart swell as he dropped down beside her on the bed, a satisfied sensation filling her entire being. As she laid there, she listened to his heavy heart beat while she stared into the ceiling.
After a moment of silence, she spoke in hushed words, whispers almost: "I think a god came and visited us today. Loki smiled at me from behind Floki's eyes. Should I be worried?"
She heard Ragnar breathing calmly beside her, and she wondered for a short moment whether he had fallen asleep.
But then he spoke in a soft voice: "I worry about him too sometimes. That is what you do with family."
Frida scooted herself closer to her husband, feeling his heat beaming off him like another fire.
"You're right. Goodnight love."
* This is one of my favorite stories from the Sagas. I love (F)Loki and his walk on the edge between good and bad. I guess we all fight with our own bad and good sides, right?
* Journey together: In Skaldic poetry this is one way of describing sex