darklittlestories:

New chapter is posted. Frigga is in it!!!!!!! 

When the sun falls low each eve over this bright, bloody world and the warriors have drunk themselves to sleep on the mead the skálds sing of, Frigga weaves. By the light of moon and stars and candle flame, her strong fine fingers coax clouds and prayers into silken tapestries. In their warp and weft she can see much of destiny.

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