Mist & Moonlight

Chapter 35 | A Child Too Soon

The storm outside howled against the longhouse walls, as if the gods themselves stirred in the chaos. Inside, Freydis lay on a bed of furs, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Pain wracked her body, too sharp, too soon—seven months into her pregnancy. It was too early. The baby wasn't supposed to come yet.

Meryna knelt beside her daughter, brushing sweat-soaked hair away from Freydis's pale face. "Breathe, my love," she whispered, her voice steady even though fear flickered beneath her calm exterior.

Ingrid sat at Freydis's side, her arm wrapped gently around her shoulders. "I'm here with you, sister," she murmured, squeezing Freydis's hand.

At the end of the bed, Aslaug worked with quiet precision, setting out herbs, linens, and warm water. "The baby will come," she said calmly, her silver hair glowing in the firelight. "Whether we are ready or not. That is the way of children."

Freydis cried out as another contraction tore through her, the pain almost unbearable. "It's too soon!" she gasped, clutching at the furs beneath her. "The baby—something's wrong. I need Erik. Please... I need him."

Meryna leaned closer, pressing a kiss to her daughter's temple. "Erik will come, my love. I promise. But right now, we need you to focus. Your baby needs you more than anything."

Freydis's heart twisted with anguish, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. She had wanted Erik by her side—needed him to hold her hand, to whisper that everything would be all right. But he was miles away, helping Leif reclaim Kattegat. And now, all she had was the strength of the women around her.

"You're doing so well," Ingrid whispered, her voice soothing despite the tension in the room.

Freydis clenched her jaw, forcing herself to bear the next wave of pain. Aslaug's steady voice anchored her. "You're almost there," the völva murmured. "Just one more push, and the baby will be with us."

Gritting her teeth, Freydis gave everything she had, a cry tearing from her throat as the final contraction rippled through her. And then—suddenly—there was a small, fragile wail.

"She's here," Aslaug whispered with quiet reverence, cradling the tiny infant in her hands.

Freydis sagged back against the furs, exhausted and trembling. Her heart thundered in her chest as she reached for her child, her breath catching when she saw just how small the baby was.

Meryna's hands were gentle as she helped wrap the newborn in soft cloth. "She's early," she murmured, her eyes filled with concern. "So small... but she's breathing."

Aslaug handed the baby to Freydis, who cradled the tiny bundle close to her chest. The infant's skin was delicate, her tiny fists curled tightly, her cries soft but insistent. Freydis stared at her, a tear slipping down her cheek.

"She's beautiful," Ingrid whispered, resting a hand on Freydis's arm.

Aslaug nodded solemnly. "A child born this early is fragile. We must keep her warm, keep her close. She will need to be watched every moment."

Freydis pressed a kiss to her daughter's soft head, her heart aching with both love and fear. "I'll keep her safe," she whispered fiercely. "No matter what."

Meryna tucked extra blankets around both mother and child, her hands steady despite the worry in her eyes. "We'll keep her warm. She has you, Freydis. And she has us. We'll take turns watching over her."

The baby stirred, her small cries settling into soft whimpers as she nestled against Freydis's chest. Her tiny body was so light, so delicate, and Freydis felt the full weight of her responsibility settle over her. She wasn't just carrying a life within her anymore—she was holding it in her arms.

"What will you name her?" Ingrid asked quietly.

Freydis looked down at her daughter, her heart swelling with love and fierce determination. "Halla," she whispered. "She'll grow strong. Strong enough to stand through any storm."

"Halla," Meryna repeated softly, a proud smile breaking through her exhaustion. "A fitting name for a daughter of warriors."

Freydis closed her eyes, pressing her daughter close, her mind still drifting to Erik. She knew he would come, but she couldn't help but ache for him now. He needed to see their daughter—needed to hold her, to know that she had fought her way into the world and survived.

Aslaug's voice cut gently through her thoughts. "Freydis, you must rest. Halla needs you strong."

Freydis nodded, though sleep felt distant and impossible. "I'll sleep when Erik gets here," she whispered stubbornly.

Meryna smiled gently, brushing her hand across her daughter's sweat- drenched brow. "You need your rest, my love. We will watch over her while you sleep."

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room as the storm outside slowly began to fade. In the quiet of the longhouse, Freydis held Halla close, every heartbeat a whispered promise: Stay strong, little one. I'm right here. I'm with you.

Though Erik was still far from their side, Freydis knew in her heart that he would return. She had to hold onto hope. Her daughter needed her too- for both of them. And when he did return, he would find both of them waiting.

But until then, Halla's fragile breaths and Freydis's steady heartbeat would carry them both through the long night. They had made it this far.