Frida

Chapter 37 - Like Tyr

Frida's chest bubbled with joy as she stood there with her eyes upon the horizon, with Ragnhildir resting on her hip and Sigurd holding her hand, surrounded by all the other villagers.

Ubbe was standing at the end of the main bridge of the harbor together with his brothers Hvitserk and Ivar, and their eyes were like glued to the black flag that waved across the anemone blue late summer sky far out over the sea. The tension of excitement lay thick in the salty air that snaked between them all, while seven beautiful Viking boats were steering towards them all, cutting through the deep blue beneath them to finally reach back to their homes.

Frida could feel her heart drumming eagerly in her chest, while her daughter stirred vividly on her hip, pointing her little finger to the ships and looking up at her mother with big green eyes, a huge grin on her face.

She knew who was coming back to hold her again. And Frida could not help but to chuckle sweetly and plant soft kisses on Ragnhildir's thin blonde hair as the ships came but closer and closer, feeling the exact same exhilaration as was visible on her daughter's face.

As soon as the boats were close enough for the villagers to hear the cheers and yells from the rowing men, Frida's eyes searched through all the exhausted faces of the returned Northmen, her mind focused on finding only one pair of icy blue crystals and have them burn her skin delicately, a feeling that she missed more than anything else in the whole world.

Rollo was there, Floki was there, Torstein, Lagertha, Erik, Athelstan, Bjørn...

Warmth exploded in her chest when her eyes fell upon the heavy braiding, and she heard herself sigh out, flushed with relief and relish.

She could see that he was yelling our orders, distributing and managing the treasure they had brought with them home, and she noticed how tired he looked, how his facial features seemed to have sunken a bit in, how dark circles traced his eyes, and how deep lines carved his forehead.

But she could not help but to rejoice over finally seeing him again, no matter how worn or frayed he looked.

"Look, Ragnhildir, there he is!" Frida whispered in her daughter's ear just before her eyes finally met with his, and she felt her heart melt away from the warmth that exploded inside her as she took in his burning glaze, felt it on her as a fiery sun returning on the skies after the most bitter and cold winter. She sensed something wet travel down her cheeks when she saw him curling his lips at her, a smug smile quickly traveling over his face, and Frida chuckled to herself, as relief washed over her.

She was relieved by the fact that he had come home. Relieved by the fact that he was not visibly hurt. Relieved by the fact that their king had finally returned to them.

Frida could not tear her eyes away from him as he made his way to the bridge, and she had to restrain herself from simply letting go of Sigurd and Ragnhildir to run to him and throw herself into his arms. But she kept still, in position, like the mother she was. 

Like the queen she was. The queen waiting for her king.

It was as if time stood still as Ragnar walked along the bridge after having hugged and kissed his sons, and he greeted all the villagers, greeted his people, but Frida waited impatiently with her grip tightening more and more around Ragnhildir as he moved closer to them. When his eyes finally turned back to Frida's, there were only a couple of feet between them, and she watched him smiling shyly at her with slightly narrowed eyes.

"Welcome home," Frida breathed in a warm voice.

She felt like she was glowing as her husband's eyes traveled over her as she stood there with his children, one of them on her hip, another in her hand, and a third inside her growing belly. She felt even bigger this time than she had done during her first pregnancy.

Sigurd let go of Frida's hand, and she chuckled when she saw him shooting over to hurl himself into his father's arms, tucking his arms tightly around him, causing his father to smile one of Frida's favorite smiles.

Ragnar loved his sons very dearly, and a lot of what he was doing was to gain a great legacy to pass on to his children. And whenever one of his children showed him affection, even as he had been gone for many months, a certain light would shine in his eyes and a special smile would spread over his lips.

"I have missed you," Ragnar grinned while ruffling Sigurd's golden hair. "You're getting so big."

Ragnar's eyes lingered on Frida's face. She felt them burning her, piercing her, and she sighed affectionately as the familiar warmth he always caused her to feel soon pulsed through her body.

She had missed this sensation for so many moons, it almost felt like a dream as she stood there. As another one of the many dreams she had dreamt where Ragnar returned to her.

He walked slowly towards her, and his eyes turned to his daughter, who had her arms stretched out at him. He took her in his arms and swung around himself as he hugged her, whispering into her ear with a crooked smile on his lips.

As he took the last step towards Frida, the last step that separated them from each other, he fell to his knees with Ragnhildir on his hips. Frida's eyes widened when she felt him stroke his hand over her belly, before he cupped it and leaned in to press his forehead against it.

Frida felt her throat tightening and her chest bubbling, and she could not help but to reach up her own hands to cup her belly. She turned her eyes down to her husband in front of her and watched him mumbling something she could not hear to her belly, to his coming child inside of her.

"Is that not right, Ragnhildir?" she made out from them, and she watched as he let his daughter's hand up to touch her belly too. "Your baby brother will be big and strong, like Tyr!"

Ragnar made big eyes at her, before he rose to his feet again, his eyes immediately locking with Frida's.

Frida widened her eyes too, and looked at him with questioning eyes. "Baby brother?"

Ragnar shifted Ragnhildir to sit on his other hip, and narrowed his eyes at her, his usual smug smile creeping up on his lips. He raised his eyebrows at her as he whispered: "The gods told me."

Frida finally leaned forward and crashed her lips upon his. Her entire body tensed as she felt him kiss her back, cupping her head with his free hand and hugging her tighter. His salty taste spread over her tongue and made her close her eyes.

It had been far too long.

She heard Ragnar breathing hard as she reached her arms around him to hug him, and she felt her face flush with heat. When their lips parted, Ragnar whispered softly to her, his voice thick: "I have missed you more than... anything."

His breath was sweet on her skin, and as his words traveled into her ear and warmed through her body like newly brewed honey mead she felt an unexpected tear leave her eye and travel down her chin, as she thought back to the many times she had stood by the tree behind the longhouse and hoping that he would stand there with her, like he had done on the day that he left.

He kissed her pasionately one more time, before Frida whispered: "I don't want us to be apart again, husband." She closed her eyes as the words left her lips.

"You are right," he stated sweetly as he reached his arm around her shoulder, turning them both around to walk back to the longhouse, "We should stay together."

Frida smiled at him, wondering whether he really meant what he had just said. Would he really be with her from now on, even if he was to go to England again? Would he bring her?

She tried to find an answer on the expression of his face, but he had his eyes turned to the oncoming village ahead of them, the light of his eyes turned away from her, so she could not tell. And Frida let it slide for the time being.

She wanted to rejoice the time that lay ahead of her, a time where they would be together like they used to. They would hold a homecoming feast tonight to celebrate their fortunate raid, for they had brought home more treasure than Frida had ever laid her eyes upon in her whole life, and they had not lost many men.

But as much as Frida loved having feasts at their home, she longed even more for being alone with Ragnar again.

And have his smell on her body.

Frida smiled to herself as they reached the main path of the village that lead to the longhouse. She hoped the feast would not be too long.