Frida's decorating of the stems for one of the boats for this summer's raid was almost done.
She had already carved out both of the wood stems, and Floki had helped her prepare the antlers. They were only to be handled very gently, and he used a strange tool for hardening them, she did not know what it was called.
She could not really perceive the words Floki had spoken, even when she had asked him.
But the antlers looked very beautiful, as they rose up from the wood stems, two pairs of them very alike, and while Frida viewed them one well-tempered evening of the late spring, she still felt like they needed something more. But she did not know what.
The boat was already done, and she soon heard a snicker coming from behind her by the door.
She smiled, but did not turn around.
"They need something more," she stated as she heard his footsteps nearing her.
He snickered. "I like them. They will look good on my boat."
Frida turned her head to send him big eyes. "Your boat?"
Floki glared at her with demonic eyes, narrowed at her like small daggers.
He turned the daggers back to her work, putting his hand up to his bearded chin and giggled manically.
"I made the boat, so they will be on my boat," he hummed breathily, his mouth curling twistedly as his tongue rolled.
Frida sighed out at him with her arms flaring up, dramatically.
"Yes, but I will travel in the boat, will I not?" she asked in an impatient voice, staring hard at the dark circles around his eyes.
He chuckled. The sound of the rain falling down outside was loud. "Yes, if you wish to travel with me. But Ragnar might object to that, my queen."
Floki's eyes rolled at her dramatically, and she tore hers away from him, blowing out a big gush of air through her nostrils. She had not expected this.
She heard him chuckling, before moving closer to examine the stems, and she followed him out of the corner of her eyes, watching as he stalked across the floor in his big movements.
He was such a large man, and yet, when she looked into his eyes, she always saw someone smaller than his size in there, and she had not yet really understood why.
Time would tell.
"What do you want, more?" Floki asked, causing Frida to shake her head slightly.
She pushed her thoughts to the back of her mind, and focused back on her decorations. She considered for a short moment. But she knew already what missed.
"Color," she stated, before letting her eyes fall to the ground.
She thoughtlessly let one of her hands up to have her fingers stroke against the colored skin of her other arm, and she bit her lip.
"Color?" Floki chuckled, and she saw him walking a couple of steps over to look at some small barrels over by the wall that contained paint.
Frida shook her head. "No, life color."
Floki froze, and slowly turned his face towards hers. His eyes burned at her again, but this time she kept hers locked with his. He giggled.
"You should take the blood by sacrifice. Bring your children," he breathed wickedly with a voice unfamiliar to her.
She tilted her head at him.
"Will you come?" she asked in a small voice.
He furrowed his brows for a short moment, a wrinkle carving over his forehead, before he turned away from her, stepping a bit closer to the stems in front of them, and he soon raised a hand to let his fingers trace over the carvings.
"No," he said, and she furrowed her brows when she felt disappointment wash over her face, "I think you will do just fine on your own."
….
Frida jumped from her seat in her throne, her hands flying to her head. "What… How is she doing that? Why haven't you stopped her?!"
She threw herself across the floors, and quickly pulled her young daughter off the back of Freke.
Ragnhildir had been sitting in him like a horse!
And the wolf had calmly strolled into the long-hall from the bedroom, not minding at all her weight.
Frida felt Ragnhildir pushing at her arms, and her eyes soon locked with Freke's. He seemed to be calm, and he made a small humming sound. Frida looked back at her daughter's white hair, which had grown quite a bit this spring, before she put her back down onto the Freke's back.
The two of them soon strolled on, as if they had been doing it forever.
Frida shook her head at them, before sighing out and turning around to walk back to her throne. She felt several eyes on her, some laughter sounded from around her.
She shrugged her shoulders in surrender and smiled at them, before sitting down and pouring herself a mug of ale.
Athelstan soon appeared in front of her, raising his mug at her with raised eyebrows, a wide smile on his lips. They cheered and drank together, before he nodded his head back in the direction of Ragnhildir.
"Never in my life did I think I would lay my eyes upon a sight like that," he smiled at her, stepping closer.
She laughed out and urged him to sit next to her on Ragnar's seat. He nodded at her before sitting down.
"How are you, friend?" she asked. "Are you ready to go back to Northumbria?"
Athelstan widened his eyes at her before blowing out a big gush of air, throwing his head to the side in order to get some of his wild hair out of his face. "I think I'm as ready as I can be," he chuckled, "But I could imagine you to be a little nervous, with it being your first time back?"
She nodded in a small smile.
It certainly was a disturbing thought somehow, going back to the lands where she was born. She let her eyes fall to her right arm, and she quickly gazed over the dark colors there. Not one of the Saxons was going to recognize her, not even if they were to make it back to her old village.
She liked that idea.
"Hey, are you okay?" Athelstan nudged her shoulder lightly, and she quickly shook her head and smiled at him again.
"Yes, excuse me for my absent mind, I… I can't imagine what it feels like to see English ground again."
The voice that left her lips was strange to her, and it reminded her of someone she had not spoken to for a very long time. She felt Athelstan's gray eyes on her, and she only turned her face towards him when they left her.
She noticed how his fingers were mindlessly swaying over his arm ring.
"I know," he finally breathed. "But to the English, you will appear just as Norse as the rest of them… The rest of us."
Their eyes quickly locked, and they both spread their lips in wide smiles at each other.
The sound of a blacksmith forging sounded from the outside of the longhouse. The rain that had poured over them over the last couple of months had silently grown dry, but the air was still thick with moist, even here inside the long-hall, causing small pearls of sweat to spring from the line of Frida's hair.
"I reckoned," Athelstan continued in a calm voice, "That is also why you asked Floki to help you decorate stems?"
Frida breathed out a nervous giggle, and she quickly came to question in her mind whether she had spent too much time with Floki recently. Her giggle sounded so wicked, just like his.
"Well, yes, in all honesty. Not only do I return like one from the far North in appearance and heart, I return like their queen."
A short silence hovered between them, and she felt his eyes on her.
She continued in her strange voice: "I wanted to praise the gods with my decorations, to reveal the power that the Asir bring to their people. To take them with me."
Her breath got caught in her throat, and she opened her mouth to speak more, but hesitated. She felt a certain piercing at her cheeks, and she looked around in the long-hall but could not see Ragnar anywhere.
She gulped down before she dared speak a little more from her heart. "But I will not sail forth in the boat that they were made for, sadly."
She felt Athelstan staring at her in surprise.
"Why not?" he asked softly. His air was very calm, earning her to merely shrug her shoulders, as if she did not care anyways.
"Floki will sail that boat. He told me. And I have to stay with Ragnar, the queen with her king."
Athelstan bent closer to her, so close that she could smell his breath.
She felt a slight electric current run over her skin when he whispered: "It seems like Floki turned out to open his heart to at least one Saxon here."
Frida widened her eyes and stared at Athelstan with surprise flushed over her face, her brows furrowing at him. She felt a small heat in her cheeks. "What do you mean?"
Athelstan blinked one of his eyes at her in a smug smile. "If there is one thing I have come to know about Floki's soul since my arrival here in Kattegat, it is that he does not take too kindly to strangers. Or, to people that do not understand the gods like he does, I find. You should regard this as a compliment to your faith, Frida."
The heating, pricking sensation on the skin of her face intensified, and she let her eyes fall to her hands around her mug. Her knuckles were white, and she quickly released her apparently tight grip around the mug.
The necklace that she always carried over her chest suddenly felt a bit heavier, and she could not help but to smile a little.
But her smile quickly faded. "Either way, a queen should follow her king when crossing such big waves, should she not?"
A small clearing of a throat sounded behind them, which caused them both to turn around in the chairs in surprise.
Frida felt her face burn with heat when she saw Ragnar stepping out of the shadows behind them. She knew that he had been listening and watched them speak. She had felt his eyes on her.
Her heart pounded as he stepped forward with a smug smile on his lips, his eyes piercing through hers as he turned around to rest himself against his occupied throne. She felt like he was judging her as he stood there, judging her for even considering crossing the great sea in another boat than his.
"Yes," he breathed smugly, his eyes turning dramatically to Athelstan. "The wolf follows the raven by, but he on ground and the raptor in the sky."
Frida furrowed her brows at him, but he simply kept his mysterious stare on Athelstan.
What was that supposed to mean?