Frida

Chapter 22 - Fenrir or Freke

"Be careful, Ubbe, you will wake her."

Frida awoke from a very deep sleep as she felt something pushing at her shoulder. With her eyes closed, her thoughts awakened lively as she was laying beneath the warm furry covers, and she heard Ragnar's raspy voice whispering to his sons beside her.

She smiled to herself, and scooted even farther down the covers, breathing out in affection. These mornings were the best, when Ragnar had not left her side, and when the boys joined them in the bed. She heard Ivar chuckle, and she wanted to move her legs into a better position, but found them locked there beneath the giant fur.

Slightly confused and still heavy from sleep, she tucked the fur down from her face to lay her eyes upon the thing that weighed down her legs, and she widened her sore eyes. At the end of the bed laid a silvery ball of fur, its light eyes gazing upon her face, and she inhaled in a quick breath when she remembered what had happened last night.

The juvenile wolf was still here. It was laying on her, warming her, looking at her.

Frida turned her face to look at the small family next to her. Ragnar, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Ivar, and Sigurd were all in the bed, comfortably nuzzled up beneath the covers, Ragnar's blue eyes too resting upon her face, and a small smirk spread over his lips when he noticed that she was awake. Sigurd was sleeping in his arms, resting gently on Ragnar's arm, and Frida smiled to him, and her heart quickly filled with warmth.

"Morning," she whispered in a breathy voice, earning round-eyed stares from both Ubbe and Hvitserk.

"Good morning, love," Ragnar breathed at her, while he reached his arm around Hvitserk to stroke her hair.

All the boys except Sigurd greeted her a good morning too in chirpy voices, and Hvitserk quickly glided down on the bed, his face suddenly only inches from hers.

"Can I name him?" he breathed.

Frida looked into the innocent blue oceans in front of her, and she chuckled lightly. She felt the wolf at her feet stirring, and they let their gazes fall down to the furry ball that now had raised its head, eyeing them all carefully. It almost looked like a dog, tame and calm at their feet, and Frida reached her hand up to stroke Hvitserk's chin.

"What would you call him then?" she asked still in a whispery voice, the sleep still not entirely washed out of it.

Hvitserk pushed himself up on his elbow, and looked down at the wolf with big proud eyes. "Freke," he answered, "just like Odin's wolf. He too sleeps at the end of the bed, just like that one."

Frida sent a quick smile past the boy and over to Ragnar that was smirking still, contently.

"Is that so?" Frida smiled.

Hvitserk nodded eagerly, speaking in rushed words: "Yes, and we will feed him nicely, like Odin does, you know. Because he only drinks wine and mead, he feeds his wolves the food on his plate."

"I like Fenrir better," Ubbe chirped from further down the bed.

He was tucked in behind Ragnar's legs, resting his head in his hands, eyeing the wolf intently too.

Ragnar chuckled. "We will not name him Fenrir, Ubbe. This one is a good wolf."

Frida simply grinned at the now pouting boy as he sighed out, and she felt Ivar tucking at her hair.

"What do you think, Ivar?" she smiled, and she gently scooted herself up to sit on the bed, careful not to stir the wolf too much. Ivar smiled sweetly and pointed to Hvitserk.