Mist & Moonlight

Chapter 40 | In His Arms

The night sky over Kattegat was dark and silent, stars scattered faintly across the black expanse. Inside the royal hall, the fire in the hearth had burned low, casting soft embers that glowed like distant memories. Freydis sat near the window, knees drawn to her chest, watching the flickering light dance on the cold stone floor. The weight of grief pressed down on her, making her feel like she couldn't breathe, as if the world had shifted into a colder, emptier place since her father's passing.

Rorik was gone. Her father—the man who had always been larger than life, unyielding like the fjords themselves—was now a memory. The ache in her chest felt endless, raw, and sharp.

She closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against her knees, tears slipping down her cheeks in silent surrender. No matter how many battles she had fought in her heart, she couldn't fight this. This pain was too vast.

In the corner of the room, nestled in a wooden cradle, Halla slept soundly, her tiny chest rising and falling with soft, even breaths. The baby's presence was the only flicker of comfort in Freydis's heart—a reminder of new life even as she mourned the loss of the man who would never see her daughter grow.

The small sounds of Halla's sleep filled the room—a gurgle here, a soft sigh there—and though the baby's world was simple and peaceful, Freydis's heart was tangled in sorrow.

Erik found Freydis sitting alone in the quiet corner of the hall. His boots tapped lightly against the stone as he approached, but Freydis didn't lift her head. She didn't need to. She knew it was him—his presence as familiar as her own heartbeat. He lowered himself onto the floor beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders without a word.

At the feel of his warmth, the dam inside her broke, and the sobs came in waves.

"He's really gone," she whispered, her voice cracked and broken. "I don't know how to live in a world without him, Erik."

Erik pulled her closer, his arms tight around her as if shielding her from the weight of the world. "I know," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "I know, love."

She buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking into his tunic. "He wasn't just my father—he was everything. My protector. My guide." She choked on her words, clinging to Erik as if he were the only solid thing left in the shifting landscape of her grief.

Erik ran his hand gently over her back, soothing her with soft strokes. "He loved you more than anything, Freydis."

"I should have told him more," she whispered. "I should have told him how much I loved him."

"He knew," Erik said softly, tilting her face up so their eyes met. "He always knew."

For a moment, Erik glanced toward the cradle where Halla lay, her small face relaxed in sleep. He reached down and touched Freydis's hand. "Look at her," he whispered. "She's part of him too. A reminder that, even though he's gone, he's still here—in you, in her, in all of us."

Freydis followed his gaze, tears blurring her vision as she looked at her sleeping daughter. "He met her," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "At least he got to meet her."

Erik kissed her temple, his lips lingering against her skin. "And he loved her the moment he saw her. Just like he loved you from the moment you were born."

Freydis closed her eyes, exhaling a shaky breath. The sorrow in her heart felt overwhelming, but Erik's words wrapped around her like a lifeline. She rested her head on his shoulder, letting herself sink into his steady embrace.

"You don't have to be strong right now," Erik murmured, running his fingers through her hair. "You don't have to pretend you're okay. I'm here, Freydis. I'll hold you through all of it."

Freydis clung to him, the warmth of his presence slowly easing the sharp edges of her grief. She knew the pain wouldn't vanish, but having Erik beside her made it bearable—like the weight was shared between them.

"Do you remember the stories he used to tell?" Erik asked quietly. "About how he could out-drink Thor and trick Odin into lending him wisdom?"

Freydis gave a soft, tearful laugh, the sound bittersweet. "He told them so often I started to believe them."

Erik chuckled, the sound low and soothing. "I think even Thor would have been impressed."

Freydis smiled through her tears, leaning into Erik's warmth. "He was impossible."

"And unforgettable," Erik added gently. "Just like you."

The soft gurgle of Halla's breath filled the quiet between them, grounding Freydis in the present moment. She looked toward the cradle again, watching her daughter sleep so peacefully, unaware of the grief that surrounded her.

"She's what's keeping me together," Freydis whispered. "Halla."

Erik kissed the top of her head. "And you'll keep her together, too. Just like your father did for you."

Freydis sighed, her heart aching but no longer feeling quite so shattered. "I don't know how to do this without him, Erik. How do I keep going?"

Erik pulled her closer, his voice soft but steady. "You don't have to do it alone, Freydis. I'll be here. Every step, every moment."

She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against his. "Thank you," she whispered. "For being here. For loving me."

Erik kissed her gently, his lips brushing hers in a silent promise. "You never have to thank me for that, my love."

They stayed that way, wrapped in each other's arms, while Halla slept soundly nearby. The fire crackled softly, casting flickering light across the stone walls, as if reminding them that even in the darkest times, warmth and light could still exist.

Grief would come in waves, and the road ahead would not be easy. But for tonight, Freydis knew she didn't have to carry the weight of it alone. Erik was with her, and together, they would find a way to move forward—one step, one breath, one moment at a time.

The embers in the hearth glowed faintly as the night deepened. And as Freydis drifted into a restless sleep in Erik's arms, with Halla's quiet breaths filling the room, she knew that somehow, life would go on. She wasn't alone.