Mist & Moonlight

Chapter 36 | A Warriors Welcome

The creak of the longship's hull echoed across the cold fjord waters as Erik, Eydis, Astrid, Sigbrand and Vidar approached the shores of Westfold. The victory at Kattegat was theirs, but the journey home was filled with silent thoughts and unspoken tension. The warriors aboard were weary but filled with the satisfaction of reclaiming Kattegat. Each face carried the marks of battle and exhaustion, though their hearts were lighter knowing Kattegat was once again under their banner.

As the ship glided into the docks, Erik stood at the bow, scanning the familiar horizon. But his thoughts were far from the fjords—he could only think of Freydis and the child she carried. She was 6 months along when he last held her in his arms, and the fear of missing the birth gnawed at him during every step of the campaign. Now that they were home, the weight of battle shifted to a deeper kind of anxiety.

The gangplank dropped with a thud, and Erik, Vidar, Sigbrand, and Eydis strode off the ship. Astrid followed a few paces behind, silent and reserved as always, her golden hair catching the morning light. The people of Westfold gathered at the docks, cheering their victorious warriors.

"We are home!" Vidar shouted, raising his sword. The crowd erupted with cheers, but Erik had no time to linger.

"Freydis," Erik muttered under his breath, his long strides breaking into a full run toward the hall. His boots splashed through puddles on the uneven stone paths as he made his way through the familiar streets.

Vidar's laughter rang behind him. "He's running like Odin himself is on his heels!"

Erik ignored the jest. The only thing that mattered was seeing her.

Inside the great hall, the warm scents of wood smoke and mead filled the air, mingling with the voices of the people within. Erik's heart thundered in his chest as he shoved open the heavy wooden doors. The room stilled at his arrival, but all he could see was Freydis sitting near the hearth, a bundle wrapped tightly in her arms.

"Erik!" Freydis whispered, relief flooding her features. She rose slowly, her steps tentative, still recovering from childbirth.

Erik crossed the room in three strides, his heart in his throat as his eyes dropped to the tiny form swaddled in furs. The baby was small—too small. His heart sank.

"She's early," Freydis said, her voice trembling. "Our daughter... Halla."

Erik sank to his knees before them, cradling the newborn with hands calloused from war but now trembling with the fragility of new life. Halla's tiny face was pale, her breaths soft and shallow, but she was alive. Erik could barely speak past the lump in his throat.

"You fought your own battle to bring her here," he whispered, brushing a gentle thumb across Halla's downy cheek. Freydis leaned against him, tears falling freely.

"I thought I might have to do this alone," she whispered, her voice catching on the words. "But you came back."

"I'll always come back," Erik promised, pressing his forehead to hers. He kissed her softly, a promise in every touch.

Freydis smiled faintly, exhaustion etched in every line of her face. "She's a fighter, like her father."

Erik gave a soft chuckle, though emotion burned in his chest. "And like her mother."

Eydis, Vidar, and Astrid arrived shortly after, stepping quietly into the hall. Eydis approached the fire where Erik knelt with Freydis, her face softening at the sight of the newborn.

"She's perfect," Eydis whispered, brushing her fingers gently against the baby's tiny hand.

"Small but strong," Freydis replied, glancing down at Halla with pride and relief.

Astrid stood back, arms folded. Though she said nothing, her sharp blue eyes softened for a moment as she looked at the family. Whatever tension had lingered between her and Erik seemed to ease in the face of this fragile, new life.

Vidar clasped Erik's shoulder. "Leif sends his greetings. He stayed behind in Kattegat to ensure order is restored."

Erik gave a nod, though his attention remained fixed on the tiny bundle in his arms. "Kattegat is in good hands."

Vidar grinned. "Aye, though the boy was practically itching to come home with us. He's restless, just like his father."

Freydis laughed softly. "He always was."

As the fire crackled and the hall settled into a peaceful quiet, Erik felt the weight of the past months  lift from his shoulders. He had fought wars, conquered lands, and reclaimed a kingdom, but none of it compared to the simple joy of holding his daughter.

He looked down at Halla once more, marveling at how such a small, fragile life could bring him to his knees in a way no sword ever could.

"You came back just in time," Freydis whispered, her fingers entwining with his.

Erik smiled, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "I'm so proud of you, Freydis."

Freydis's gaze softened. In that moment, the warrior in Erik quieted, replaced by a father, a lover, and a man ready to build the life he'd always wanted—with the woman he loved and the daughter he had yet to know.

Together, they sat by the fire, the flicker of flames casting shadows on the walls of the hall, as Westfold welcomed them home.