Mist & Moonlight

Chapter 39 | The Coronation

The sea was calm as the longships glided into Kattegat's harbor, the quiet waves lapping against the wooden hulls. The returning family carried the weight of grief with them. Rorik's death still pressed heavily on their hearts, but duty waited for no one. A kingdom without a ruler invited chaos, and Leif Rorikson had to step forward—whether he was ready or not.

The people of Kattegat lined the docks, murmuring as the royal family arrived. They knew of Rorik's passing, and though they mourned with their rulers, the kingdom's future was now their concern. Leif stood at the bow of the ship, his face stern and unreadable, the weight of expectation pressing down on his shoulders. Behind him, Erik, Freydis, and Meryna disembarked in silence, their faces pale with lingering grief.

Aslaug waited for them at the shore, having arrived before them. Her blue robes trailing across the stone path. Her silver hair glimmered in the misty light of morning, and the staff she carried hummed with unseen power. She nodded once to Leif as he stepped onto the dock. "The time has come," she said softly. "You must take the crown, Leif, and with it, the burdens of your father."

Leif gave a short nod, his throat tight. "I will honor his legacy and uphold the peace as he would have wished."

Aslaug's gaze softened. "I know you will."

***

The family made their way through the streets of Kattegat, the crowd parting to let them pass. Freydis walked beside Leif, her hand resting on his arm in silent support. Erik was close behind her, his eyes scanning the crowd protectively. Meryna followed, her face etched with quiet sorrow but also pride for the son who would soon become king.

Ingrid walked alongside them, her head held high despite the tension in her chest. She wore a simple but elegant gown of deep green, her long blonde hair braided with strands of silver thread. Beside her walked Signe, her older sister, her bright eyes wide with awe at the events unfolding before her.

Ingrid's heart raced as they approached the Great Hall. This was a moment she had never imagined for herself—becoming queen, standing beside Leif as they forged a future together. Yet here she was, and despite the nerves swirling in her belly, she knew there was no one she would rather walk this path with than him.

Ahead of them, the Sons of Shadow stood in silent formation, bearing witness to the crowning of the new king and queen. Their dark cloaks swayed in the breeze, their faces hidden beneath hoods. They had come not as enemies, but as silent observers—watching, waiting, and acknowledging the future that now belonged to Leif and Ingrid.

***

The Great Hall was draped in banners of deep red and gold, the colors of the royal house. The air was thick with the scent of burning sage, a ritual to cleanse and bless the new reign. At the far end of the hall, two thrones awaited—one for the king and one for his queen.

Leif stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest. Aslaug stood before him, holding the crown in her hands. The golden circlet glinted in the firelight, adorned with jewels that sparkled like stars.

"Leif, son of Rorik," Aslaug intoned, her voice echoing through the hall. "Do you swear to rule this kingdom with wisdom and courage, as your father did before you? Will you protect your people, uphold the law, and ensure peace among your lands?"

Leif's voice was steady despite the weight of the moment. "I swear it."

Aslaug's sharp eyes softened briefly with approval. She raised the crown and placed it gently upon Leif's head. "Then I name you Leif, Son of Rorik, King of Norway."

The hall erupted in cheers, though the sound was tinged with both triumph and mourning—a new beginning born from loss. Leif turned slowly, taking in the sight of his people, knowing that they were now his responsibility.

***

As the cheers settled, Aslaug turned to Ingrid. The völva's gaze lingered on her, as if seeing the many paths that had brought Ingrid to this moment—and perhaps glimpsing what lay ahead.

"Ingrid," Aslaug began, her voice low but steady, "you have walked a path few others could survive. Do you stand ready to take your place beside Leif as Queen of Norway, to rule with him, and to protect this land as your own?"

Ingrid's heart thundered, but she stood tall. "I do."

Signe, standing near the front, clasped her hands together, a wide smile spreading across her face. Pride shimmered in her eyes as she watched her sister take her place at Leif's side.

Aslaug placed the queen's crown—a delicate circlet of silver—onto Ingrid's head. The cool weight of the crown felt foreign but right. It was not just a symbol of power, but a promise—to Leif, to their people, and to the child growing within her womb.

"Rise, Ingrid," Aslaug said softly. "Queen of Norway."

Ingrid rose slowly, and Leif reached for her hand. As their fingers intertwined, she felt a rush of warmth—an unspoken vow that they would face whatever came, together.

As Leif and Ingrid took their seats upon the thrones, the crowd erupted into cheers once more. Signe rushed forward to embrace her sister, her joy uncontainable. "You did it!" she whispered, her voice filled with admiration.

Ingrid smiled, her hand resting protectively over her belly. "We did it."

Leif leaned close, whispering to Ingrid. "With you by my side, I know I can be the ruler my father wished me to be."

Ingrid smiled, her heart full. "Together," she whispered. "Always."

Meryna, standing at the edge of the hall, watched with quiet pride as her son and daughter-in-law began their reign. Though grief still lingered in her heart, she knew that Rorik would have been proud to see this day. His legacy lived on—not only in Leif but in the family they had built together.

As the people of Kattegat celebrated, Aslaug stood silently at the edge of the room, her gaze distant. She knew that the future was uncertain and that challenges lay ahead. But for now, she allowed herself to savor this moment—a moment where life triumphed over loss, and the promise of peace was born from the ashes of grief.

And as the flames in the hearth burned bright, casting shadows against the stone walls, the family knew that Rorik's spirit would always be with them.

The wind swept through Kattegat, carrying with it the whispers of the past and the promise of the future. And in the heart of it all stood Leif and Ingrid—king and queen, ready to lead their people into whatever lay ahead.