Ever since being born in Kattegat, Freya had known both security and danger. She doesn't know exactly who her father is, but legends say that he was a great Viking who had fallen during battle, sealing his place among their Gods in Valhalla. Maybe someone in Kattegat knew of him? Her brothers told her that he taught them how to fight and then began to teach Freya how to defend herself. "Make sure you take care of your sister." Their father's last order before he left for battle.
Freya enjoyed being born in the same Village as Ragnar and his infamous sons. Even Lagertha, the fair-haired shield maiden that inspired many women to join the ranks of men.
Early hours had come to Kattegat, and already Freya was heading outside to feed the livestock that she kept behind wooden fences. Her grandparents who had become her guardians were still resting, and her brothers were getting ready to leave for training. "Freya," She turned around, placing the bucket she was holding onto the ground as Draven - Her eldest brother - headed over to her. "Zadyr and I want you to have this..." she looked down as he handed her a silver necklace of a wolves head, decorated with Broa style edges. "It was mothers. She'd want you to have it." He moved to stand behind her, and after Freya lifted up her hair, Draven wraps the necklace around her slender neck, fastening it at the back as she stood still for him. She reached up with her right hand, placing it onto the wolf head that now rested against her chest. "It suits you," he tells her, right before placing a kiss on her forehead. "Zadyr, get your arse outside. We're going to be late."
Zadyr quickly made his way outside, carrying his sword on his back. He smiles at his little sister, hugging her with his right arm as he passed. With both of them now leaving for their training, Freya got back to work. Tending to the animals was the easy part, it was the harvesting that seemed to be harder since she had to hand pick everything by herself. At least until she was able to have farm hands for help. Maybe she could pay Björn a visit, see if he would allow her to hire a couple of slaves to help in the fields.
There were no better men to protect Kattegat, and even the women were fierce. As she took a moment to rest, she wiped the back of her dresses sleeve across her sweating forehead as she glanced across towards the other side of the village. Her brothers were lost between the swinging of steel and the clashing of shields.
If only Freya could be a warrior like Lagertha. A strong, confident, independent woman who is never afraid of anything, apart from losing her only son. Maybe one day Freya could leave her farming life behind, giving her the time and freedom to follow her dream of leaving her very own mark on the world. One day, she could be recognized as warriors equal.
Subject: The Farmer's Daughter (Open) 