Frida

Chapter 13 - I Will Carry

"Your... valkyrie. What is that, Ragnar?"

Frida stared intently at his features.

The word sounded weird in her mouth, yet while Ragnar pronounced it once more, she came to like the very tone of it, the way his tongue curled at the 'r', and the way it almost sounded liquid, spellbinding.

"It is known that valkyries are the feminine creatures sent by Odin to our world to bring home warriors to Valhalla. Our, uh ... Heaven." He smiled with his eyes at her but soon dropped his face down between his knees.

Frida felt shivers run over her skin, and she too turned her eyes to the ground.

"Legend has it," he continued, "that they are deeply connected with the goddess Freyja, that they soothe and care for the warriors who will fight beside Odin when the time comes."

Frida's thoughts were dancing wildly inside her head. She did not see how any of this had anything to do with her, but she was intrigued, enchanted.

"Freyja?" she breathed in a whisper, feeling warmth raging through her veins as the name left her lips.

Ragnar lifted his head to look at her with wet eyes. His lips curled sweetly. "She is the goddess of fruitfulness. She prepares the soil for our crops, tenders it with love and fertility, and so she does with us people. She is the goddess of riches, of love, and of sex."

Frida felt her cheeks burn as his words snuck their way through her ear, and her body inhaled them like were they the sweet summer air of the heath that surrounded the village, its fragrance mollifying her entire person. 

"Some men say that Freyja's valley was shared with another god, the one whom the valkyries come to with their warriors."

Frida's eyes widened as she realized the connection. "Odin?" she voiced lightly.

Ragnar nodded and closed his eyes. He was telling her this, Frida argued with herself, because it had some meaning for her dream. But she could not see how she could be a valkyrie. She had no connection with neither Freyja nor Odin. She had never even known they existed before she met Ragnar. But a hot thought gnawed at the back of her mind, that maybe she had always known that someone was looking at her, guiding her in her steps. But she had always thought it to be her mother's spirit, talking to her through her dreams, through the animals. Frida gulped.

"So..." she started, "The Seer thinks that I have come to you, to have you die and go to Odin and Freyja?"

Ragnar closed his eyes and she could hear him breathe out. "Floki thinks so. That is how he interprets it."

Frida rubbed her fingers at her temples, not quite understanding the true sense in this. But her body froze when she realized something. "Will I... will I die too then?"

Ragnar looked at her with hard eyes, and she felt her heart beat faster. He suddenly rose to his feet, and quickly strode over across the floor, staring into the small fire that was burning on the stones. She could see him clenching his fists.

"It is my fault," Ragnar said, "I never should have brought you with me."

Frida closed her eyes as a slinging pain crossed through her heart. She breathed deeply before rising to her feet too. "But was it not the will of the gods?" she asked.

It must have been. She remembered too well how a flaming heat had had her shout to the priest, to confront the Viking invaders, and move her legs up to Ragnar, where a huge force had hit her when she had looked into his eyes.

She heard Ragnar knocking his hand into the wooden wall beside him. "What do you know about the will of our gods?" he hissed at her, his fists clenching once again.

She took a couple of steps toward the angry Viking in front of her, his back towering at the fire, his braiding falling down over it like a weapon of his own.

"Nothing," she whispered, "but I know that I have always felt them somehow, that they have talked to me throughout all of my life. I realize that now."

Ragnar turned around to look at her, a confused wrinkle carving his forehead, "How is that possible?" he breathed, closing the distance between them and leaning his forehead against her, roughly.

Frida closed her eyes, his piercing blue ones too close, almost burning her. She felt him turning his head to look upwards, his forehead still pressed against hers. He reached up his hand to grab her gently by her shoulder, his fingers reaching over her throat, pressing gently down on it.

"I..." she whispered, but she was interrupted by Ragnar's lips crashing against hers, his beard raking the soft skin of her chin. She reached her arms around him, hurtling her body up against his, inhaling his scent deeply. With one hand near her throat, he reached his other up to cup her head, also breathing her in. A lusting grew quickly inside her, fire shooting down her legs for pleasing him.

Frustration, anger but a deep caring feeling had her whimper out over his lips, and she reached down her hand to grab him between his legs, and she felt him bucking his hips out, surprised, but wanting. She felt him hardening in her hand, and heat overtook her stomach and had her force him down on the bed.  

Soon, pain and pleasure shot down her legs as he split her. "Freyja," he whispered almost inaudibly as he left her only to penetrate once more, rocking her forward in the bed.

He hit something unfamiliar inside her, pleasure washing over her like the waves of the sea on rocks during a stormy night. Fire exploded inside her when he hit her the same amazing place one more time, and she moaned out loudly as she came undone around him, her whole body tensing violently. She heard herself too breathing out the goddess' name, feeling her surrounding her being with a beautiful richness that sank something in her body in pleasure.

Ragnar growled out above her as he exploded inside her while still rocking her body, and she felt his warm seed spilling inside her, a warm lust for him to plant himself there, for something to grow rising in her heart.

She felt an unearthly caress above her stomach, as Ragnar left her core, and she closed her eyes before letting her body fall down upon the body, feeling Ragnar doing the same beside her. She whimpered softly.

"I think..." Frida started, breathing heavily. "I think that I will carry your child, Ragnar."

She felt his hand upon the lower on her back, and he kissed her hair gently.

"I think so too," he whispered.