This is the story of a girl called Astrid, and it starts with a prophecy.
A prophecy of a life that is not hers but one that will be forced upon her nonetheless.But prophecy are always up to those you believed them, and Astrid didn't think further o...
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I returned back to my own village after we had given our son a proper burial, refusing to return to the Mikaelson village and not having the energy to explain why.
Finn, Elijah, Niklaus and Kol all agreed with my demand.
Although I suspect that it was more to do with making sure I did not unravel at the seams than any respect for my wishes.
The loss of a child gnaws at the soul in a way that no other pain can mimic.
I found my village just as I had left it - an untouched cocoon of normalcy in a world that was rapidly changing.
My father stood in the doorway of his hovel as my husbands escort me towards me, insisting that it is to make sure that I get there safe. But I have a feeling, they fear I may run off again and hide away in a place that not even them would be able to find me.
The look on my father's face already told me that someone had informed him of our recent tragedy. His weather-beaten face, usually stoic and unyielding, now bore a softness that was rarely seen. He opened his arms to me, not saying a word, and I fell into his embrace.
"What should have been a joyous occasion," he muttered softly to me. "has become a mournful one."
I nodded, my face buried in his rough tunic.
The familiar scent of him – earth and woodsmoke – was a small comfort. It brought me back to the days of my girlhood, running through these very woods, learning to hunt with him.
My husbands stepped away respectfully, giving us a moment alone but I could feel their gazes on me even from afar.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the clearing. My father held me for a few moments longer before stepping back, placing his hands on my shoulders.
Of course, he didn't understand the full complexity of my sorrow, but he was doing his best to empathize.
It was enough.
My father released me from his embrace, his weathered hands holding my face gently. His eyes, so much like mine, held a sadness that mirrored my own.
"You should rest," he said, his voice gruff with unshed tears.
I nodded, too exhausted to argue. Elijah stepped forward then, placing a gentle hand on the small of my back.
"I'll escort her, sir," he offered, and I could see the respect in his eyes for my father's strength.
My father nodded his silent approval, patting my cheek affectionately before retreating into the hovel.
Elijah led me towards our own dwelling within the village, a gift from village people in celebration of our union.
Finn, Niklaus and Kol followed closely behind us, close enough that could feel them against my back with every step I took.
