Sleeping Dragon red: the color of desire

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Gyda watched as her eldest daughter nudged the rat — no doubt her catch — towards her. When Freyja offers her the prize, Gyda's smile is wide. “How very generous of you Freyja,” Gyda responds with unbidden pride and gratitude to her tone, accepting her daughter's gift as she draws the rat's corpse nearer to her. “Thank you, döttir.” Though her children do not speak her native tongue Gyda offers them words here and there. She has never forced her pagan beliefs upon them and it was clear that most (if not all of them) favored the Grounder culture. She does not blame them. She is a lone sheild-maiden in a place where she does not belong. A Queen without the throne of her Gods. Yet it is Gyda's home. She played her own part in seeing it's conception and she continued to practice her faith and culture by herself. She was never alone in it. Not truly. She could feel the Gods all around her, even when she was the odd woman out and she knew she had brother's out there ...somewhere. Whether they practiced the faith of their father or not she was unaware.

She tucks the rat behind her with a charming, elegant smile, not yet hungry enough to eat it though she knows she will cherish her daughter's hard work later. Part of her feels guilty for accepting it and yet she had not wished to insult Freyja by insisting that she keep it instead. “What do you have planned for today?” Gyda asked her, wondering if the gift was all Freyja had called her for or not.

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