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As she laid within the warm comfort of her sheets, Astrid stared blankly at the walls, unable to fall into a slumber.
Behind her, Niklaus was nestled up against her, his arm tightly wrapped around her waist, pressing his chest to her back. Even in his sleep, he tevered himself to Astrid.
Sighing, Astrid couldn't rid of the toxic, unbearable thoughts that circulated around her skull.
This would happen every so often, every couple of hundred years she would have one night, a night where loss lingered and consumed her.
She thought of Ivar, her sweet son. How empty his glassy eyes had looked as he stared lifelessly up at her.
He had been so small in her arms, weighing little to nothing like a baby bird.
Sometimes Astrid wondered how things would have turned out if Ivar wouldn't have been stillborn, if the God's she had once worshiped weren't so cruel.
Her son had been innocent, and it seemed his death had spiralled them all into chaos.
From Henrik's death to Niklaus' real father being a wolf, from the poison that Esther had given the to turn them into the very demons they were, to the horrors they had caused. It all had followed from Ivar's death, the tip of the iceberg.
Swallowing, Astrid's eyes grew glassy, her long lashes fluttering as she tried to blink away the tears. It was maddening how after four hundred years, after all the death and destruction they had caused, she was still wounded so deeply by the death of her son.
As much as she tried to insist, she had never gotten over it. It had harmed her, leaving her broken and in pieces.
It wasn't as if she could confine in Niklaus, he refused to even mention Ivar's name.
When she had made the mistake of trying to confine her loss with Niklaus, he had sharply told her that Ivar had been a lifetime ago, so it mattered no longer to him. The words had cut her deep and she had refused to speak to Niklaus for a week.
She hadn't even slept in the same bed as him, she had stayed in one of the many guest rooms, much to Niklaus' annoyance.
As if he was unconsciously aware she was thinking of him, Niklaus' grip tightened on her waist, his fingers digging into her nightgown. Tomorrow was Niklaus' birthday ball, but at least Kol would be attending.
It had been a while since she had seen Kol. She missed his carefree nature and his sharp tongue. He had a nick of casting light and humour upon any situation. She needed his positivity right now.
Not that she would ever admit it to her highly territorial and paranoid husband, but Astrid often thought of Kol. She would wonder what he was doing, where he was.
