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“ Oh , Nina,” Matthias said, feet grinding to a halt, stopping to glance into the trees, head tilted to the side as his eyes trained towards the smallest bundle, barely there.
“Yes?” Her head popped up from the path, where she was waddling behind him. Pregnancy had made her slower, their trip back from the village taking longer than normal. But it was winter, and they needed supplies. Matthias pulled a wagon behind them, their purchases from the market strapped in for the journey home.
“Look,” he whispered, gesturing towards the lump of fur he had spotted within the snow, hidden by a mound of rocks next to the towering trees.
“Is that -” Nina started, her head straining to try to see what Matthias had seen, what he was pointing at.
It was so small, any ordinary person would have missed it. But Matthias was no ordinary person, he had been a Drüskelle. And a Drüskelle could recognize the sight of them anywhere.
“ An Isenulf pup,” he finished. Matthias approached the creature quietly, and softly, careful not to let the snow crunch under the weight of his boot. He didn’t want to startle the thing, scared and cold as it was.
He remembered what had happened when he had first met Trassel, and he certainly didn’t want a repeat of that now. But this pup was alone, and unlike Trass, was still a puppy, not even old enough to be without his mother in the wild.
“What’s it doing this far south?” he mused, scooping it up into his arms, bringing the small white bundle back to Nina, who hadn’t strayed far from the pathway, one hand on her back as she supported her belly with the other.
She had two months left before the baby came, by the healer of the village’s best estimation. They weren’t Grisha, but they had experience with delivering babies, and Nina had stopped by for a check-up on their trip into the village, a rare occurrence during the height of winter.
No one bothered them in their cabin on top of the hill, a place where they were just Matthias Helvar and Nina Zenik, not Fjerdan and Ravkan, not drüskelle and drüsje, not soldiers or Grisha: just them. If the locals knew who they were, what they were, they did not question it, did not question the matching golden wedding rings they wore on their fingers or the way they would slip in and out of their native tongues with each other.
It didn’t matter here, now.
~ ~ ~
They had married twice. Once, two years into the war, when they thought that perhaps they might lose each other before they saw the end of it.
That night, under a Ravkan starry sky, they had shared vows with each other, sharing no rings, only a promise of the future.
They promised each other that they would keep fighting, that they would get married once everything was over, that they wouldn’t lose each other to this cause. They had almost lost each other so many times, and neither one of them could picture a life without the other.
“Jer molle pe oonet. Enel mörd je nej afva trohem verretn.” Matthias swore to her. I have been made to protect you. Only in death will I be kept from this oath.
The vow of the drüskelle to Fjerda, his promise to her, the words he uttered on that night, low and soft into her ear, as he indulged himself in the sinful pleasure of her body for the first time. It was wrong, he thought, but Djel, how could something be wrong and feel so right?
They were curled up under the sheets, bodies pressed together, her hand on his chest like it had been when they had first shared a bed in the whaling hut, pressed together to stay warm.
“Do you want to go home?” Nina had asked, “To Fjerda?”
“Nina, I am already home,” Matthias had simply responded, looking at her, “Home is wherever I am with you.”
He intertwined his fingers into hers, placing a soft kiss at her knuckles, before closing his eyes and falling fast asleep.
After the war had ended, they continued to live like husband and wife. Yet, Matthias wanted a proper courtship, one that Nina had tried not to laugh at. They had already shared their first kiss, and so much more than words could ever describe. They had pledged themselves to each other in every way . But she loved him, so she had gone along with it. The moonlit walks, the bundles of roses, the waffle dates; well, they were just one more thing that made her love him.
And when he had proposed: nothing fancy, despite the money they had gotten from Kaz: a small ruby gemstone set on a golden band, she had said Yes. Of Course, yes .
So they had married a second time, this time in front of their friends and her saints, in the chapel near the Little Palace. Zoya, the Queen of Ravka now, had blessed their marriage.
Nina had worn the traditional Ravkan wedding gown: a dress of red, completed with perhaps the most elegant kefta Matthias had ever seen her in, and the traditional headpiece pushed into her light brown hair. Matthias thought he had never seen her green eyes sparkle as brightly as they did on their wedding day.
Röed fetla, he'd called her , little red bird, for the color of her Grisha Order. The color she loved.
Matthias felt out of place in his attire, not quite Ravkan, but not Fjerdan either. He knew if he had been there , he would have worn the formal dress of the drüskelle to be married, his long blonde hair tied back into a ponytail and brushed away from his face. But he had never let his hair grow out completely after his stint in Ketterdam, choosing instead to let the blonde hair curl around his ears. Nina preferred it that way, and he liked when she curled her fingers in the hair at the base of his spine.
They spoke the traditional vows of both Ravka and Fjerda, and Nina said the vows of the Grisha to him.
We are soldiers. I will march with you in times of war. I will rest with you in times of peace. I will forever be the weapon in your hand, the fighter at your side, the friend who awaits your return. I have seen your face in the making at the heart of the world and there is no one more beloved, Matthias Helvar, brave and unbreakable.
Matthias spoke his vow once more. I have been made to protect you, Nina Zenik. Only in death will I be kept from this oath.
After their wedding, they bought a small cabin in northern Ravka, near the border, by Ulensk.
There was no spying left to do, no wars to fight, only the occasional trip to the palace or other diplomatic mission for them to serve on, and they settled into their new lives, peaceful but restless. Zoya would occasionally send them word on what was happening, whisperings on the Shu Han border or request their presence, but even those spaced further and further apart as time grew on and everyone got used to peace.
They both had to admit they had missed having something to do, a cause to serve. Nina thought about their friends, often. What they might be doing - Jesper and Wylan, living together in their apartment in Ketterdam. Kaz and Inej, sailing on the ship he bought for her. Kuwei, living in the Little Palace, learning what it meant to be Grisha.
Yet, something blossomed in them there; after he had carried her across the threshold the first time that fall, then amidst the first cold winter, the long nights lent themselves to more togetherness than they had ever had before.
It was hardly a surprise to either of them after the long winter when they found out she was pregnant, on a spring morning where the snow had almost completely melted off of the ground.
~ ~ ~
Matthias’ eyes glanced over the sight of his wife’s sleeping body, curled up on their bed, the small pup curled up over her belly, head resting on top of her as her chest rose and fell steadily.
“Well, aren’t you just her little protector?” Matthias cooed, bending down to scratch behind the pup’s ear, before bending down to place a kiss on Nina’s forehead.
He should go to bed, to curl up beside Nina and take his place next to her, but his mind was back on the ice in Fjerda. He looked so much like Trassel, but he was so small, smaller than Matthias had ever seen Trass .
Matthias’ heart hurt when he thought of Trass, the creature of his heart. Was he still out there, wandering on the ice, howling for Matthias, the way Matthias’ heart screamed for him?
The tiny, abandoned wolf pup had warmed up to them instantly, curling into Matthias’ arms as he carried him back to their cabin. Nina had helped give him milk, dripped into his mouth through a towel, and when the pup had finished licking at it, the pup had yawned, closing his eyes in Nina’s lap and drifting off into warm sleep.
Ever since, he had been attached to Nina, following her around, never taking his eyes off of her. The first time he had growled at Matthias for coming too close to her, Matthias had simply laughed. A deep, warm chuckle, one that Nina loved.
After Matthias had placed a soft kiss on her lips, the pup had decided that Matthias could be trusted, but nonetheless stayed by Nina’s side, determined to protect her and the baby she carried inside of her.
“That would be a good name for you, wouldn’t it, pup? Skjyttër?” Protector.
The pup gave a small bark, wagging his tail in response, and Matthias patted him on the head.
“Good boy,” he whispered, finally blowing out the candle in the cabin, letting the room descend into darkness as he curled up next to Nina, who’s hand found her way to his chest as soon as she had felt his warmth beside her.
He closed his eyes, letting his heart fall into a steady rhythm under her touch.
~ ~ ~
Nina’s labor had been long, but Skjyttër did not waver from her side for one moment, nuzzling his head into her lap as Nina breathed through her contractions, clasping at Matthias’ hand so tight she could have sworn she had left impressions on his skin from her fingernails digging into him. Yet even through her cries, the wolf pup remained ever present, his tiny white form curled into her, soft nose pressing on her occasionally to remind her that he was still there, beside her.
Matthias brushed the hair away from her face, dabbing at the sweat at her forehead with a wet cloth, Nina’s eyes closing under his soft touch.
From the moment she was born, their daughter captivated Matthias’ entire heart: his eyes filled with tears as her tiny fingers wrapped around his pinky.
Freya, they named her.
Little Lady, he called her, as he cooed to her, rocking her to sleep, singing her old Fjerdan lullabies that Nina didn’t quite recognize.
She was theirs, and she was this tiny, precious thing.
~ ~ ~
The winter slowly faded to spring, the ice still dripping onto the ground, the first signs of spring finally beginning to peek through. Their daughter slept, curled in her small basket on the floor. Skjyttër was curled up next to it, head resting on his paws as he surveyed the cabin for any immediate sign of danger.
But there was just Nina, sitting on the rocking chair by the basket, fingers entwined in yarn as she attempted to knit her husband a new pair of socks. She wasn’t very good at it, but she tried, anyway. She was a soldier, and she hadn’t prepared her whole life for this, for being a housewife, for staying at home with their baby.
Yet she relished in it - in peace - in knowing the conflict between Ravka and Fjerda was settled, that the Grisha would no longer be persecuted, hunted for simply being. Zoya had told them they could return to Os Alta whenever they wanted, back to the Little Palace. But what was left for them? They had been spies for the five years, saving countless Grisha from death, returning them to a life they could thrive and prosper in.
But when she held little Freya, Nina thought that putting all of that behind her and just being here, with him, their little family completed by Skjyttër was enough, that it would be enough , just to be here, to be loved, and to love in return.
Freya was almost three months old, growing bigger every day. Her cheeks had grown pudgy, and she was always smiling. She was a happy baby, in every sense of the word.
Skjyttër had grown too - from the tiny thing they had found shivering in the cold into an almost full grown wolf, his white coat shiny and beautiful, but since that first day, he had never strayed far from their sides, always curled up on the floor next to either Nina or Freya, always content to lay by their side or sit and have his ears scratched and small kisses placed at the top of his head.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the small cry from Freya’s cradle, which quickly turned into fussing, and Nina set the pair of socks aside to scoop Freya up into her arms.
“Shhh, sweet girl,” she crooned, kissing the top of her head, rocking her gently, before pulling her blouse down and bringing Freya up to her breast to feed. She latched on tightly, and Nina couldn’t help but admire her small babe in her arms.
Freya’s hair was growing into short curls now, just a shade lighter than Nina’s own, and her blue eyes were the same icy blue as Matthias’, mirrored by Skjyttër’s own, who was sitting and peering up at Nina. Sky whined at her feet, bringing Nina’s attention back to the present.
“I’ll feed you later, boy,” Nina laughed, petting Skjyttër’s head, before he curled up under the chair, angled towards the door as they waited for Matthias to return.
Nina finished casting off the pair of socks, lips turning into a grimace as she laughed at their mangled appearance - well, she had tried with them , at least. Matthias would appreciate her efforts all the same.
~ ~ ~
Matthias had started training Skjyttër as soon as he was weaned from the milk: at first, just simple commands of obedience - sit, stay, down, fetch - and then as he got bigger, he taught Sky the way he had taught Trassel. To fight by his side, to protect their family, to be his companion.
It gave Matthias something to do, a purpose, and he had to admit to Nina that it was good to have a sense of self again. It was something that tied him back to his homeland that he loved and missed. He still loved it, even if he was a traitor, even if he couldn’t go back.
It was worth it, for her.
Matthias barked another command to Sky, who sat at his feet, head tilted in the way that he always did, with one ear tilted. And then he was off, running through the forest, a blur of white among the trees, searching, hunting, seeking.
He returned to the cabin with a pair of rabbits they had caught, as long as a deer he had strung up alongside their house for later - Skjyttër was becoming a skilled hunter, always finding prey in the dense wilderness.
Matthias opened the cabin door to find his wife and daughter on the floor, Nina attempting to entertain her with a set of wooden blocks and babbling to her, speaking whatever came to her mind first.
“Drüsje,” he smiled, a term of affection now, not hatred.
Nina looked up from the floor, standing to brush her apron down, before wrapping her hands around Matthias’ neck.
“Drüskelle,” she responded, before placing a kiss on his lips. Matthias always loved kissing her. He always had: he always wanted more. Her lips were warm and soft and just for him. He loved calling her his wife, being able to be with her like this.
They broke apart, Nina’s eyes landing at the rabbits on his hand, and she raised an eyebrow.
“Dinner?” he said, raising them up. They were plump, with decent meat on their bones, courtesy of a beautiful summer. The warmth had attracted more animals out, giving Matthias and Skye more to hunt and, luckily, more meat on the table for them to eat.
“Only if you don’t make me skin them,” she said, placing a kiss on his cheek and moving towards the kitchen to prepare dinner.
He laughed, “Of course, Nina. Anything for my wife.”
“I wish we could have waffles,” Nina moaned under her breath. She missed waffles.
Matthias paused thoughtfully, thinking about the small inn in the village that served meals, and nodded to himself. He could take her tomorrow. They could all use a trip into town - Freya would be needing new clothes soon - she was six months now, and quickly outgrowing her current set of frocks and jumpers.
Matthias paced towards his daughter on the floor, placing a hand on her hair as he ruffled her curls. “Little Lady,” he smiled, picking her up into his arms. Freya reached for his face, eager to stick her hands in his mouth or ears as she always did, but Matthias was faster, catching her small hand and bringing it to his mouth, planting a kiss on it, before he made kissing noises up her arms, making her giggle under his touch.
He stopped his playful attack on Freya and walked back to Nina, peering at her with a smile on his face. “What do you think about going into town tomorrow, Nina? ”
~ ~ ~
Time seemed to move faster in the warm months. Freya turned seven months, then eight, and suddenly it was winter again, in the blink of an eye.
There was one particular date that both Nina and Matthias remembered fondly from the previous winter - one of the nights before Freya had arrived, where Skjyttër had curled himself up on the bed directly in between the two of them, warm and content in his new home.
He was over a year old now, fully grown, a massive thing, yet even with every wolf quality he had, Sky liked nothing more than to lay under the table in the kitchen and be given table scraps, or to be scratched between his ears in that one, specific place.
He left with Matthias more, now, on hunting expeditions, and even Nina had to admit that the house was quieter when they were gone, like she would turn and expect the padding of his paws along the floor, and then frowned when she remembered they wouldn’t be home for another few nights.
Then she was learning to walk, teetering along the cabin floor, balancing herself carefully as she took one step, then another, towards her mama.
Matthias stood at the opposite side, watching with careful eyes to make sure she didn’t fall.
Skjyttër, even fully grown, was still as fiercely loyal to Freya as ever, and padded up beside her, his paws thumping on the wooden floor each time he set one down. When she tumbled, falling backwards, he was right there, using his nose to push her back up, giving her a lick on the cheek as she buried her tiny hands in the fur at his collar.
She giggled, raising her hands over her head before putting one foot in front of the other and taking her first steps toward Nina, who picked her up in her arms, twirling her around the cabin.
“I’m so proud of you, milaya,” she said, placing a kiss on her daughter’s forehead.
And then she placed her back on the ground, facing towards Matthias, who was crouching now, arms outstretched, waiting for her.
“Go to your Papa,” Nina encouraged, letting go of her arms as Freya trudged along.
“That’s my little Lady,” Matthias said as she approached him, before his arms closed over her, wrapping her in the biggest hug.
~ ~ ~
Soon after Freya turned two years old, they traveled outside of the tiny town again, heading towards Os Kervo, where they had arranged to meet their friends.
It had been so long since they had seen either couple. Kaz and Inej, and Jesper and Wylan, that they weren’t sure if it was going to end up happening or not.
But they all met, the other four sailing from Ketterdam on Inej’s ship, and got to hold Matthias and Nina’s daughter for the first time.
“Inej!” Nina squealed, hugging her old friend tightly.
“It’s so good to see you, Nina,” Inej smiled, turning to Freya, who was next to Matthias, burying her head in his pants.
“And who’s this?” Jesper asked, crouching down next to her, holding out his hand. Freya looked up, and Nina nodded.
“It’s okay,” Matthias whispered into Freya’s ear, “they’re friends.”
She hesitantly peeked her head out from behind her father’s leg, watching Jesper in awe as he brought a small bear from behind his back.
“Everyone,” Matthias said, as Freya loosened her grip on his pants and stood in front of him, eyes wide as she looked at the toy, “this is our daughter, Freya.”
Nina smiled as they all greeted her, Freya accepting the present from Jesper and tucking it into her chest.
“Just like her mama,” Matthias whispered in Nina’s ear, standing at her side and wrapping an arm around her waist, “already making friends .”
Nina laughed. It was good to be around friends again. The three couples spent their time laughing, sharing in old memories, and catching up after the time they had spent apart. Freya loved the never ending attention from her newfound aunts and uncles, even Kaz who could still be distant at times, not quite healed from the ghosts of his past.
Kaz and Inej were the last of the group to marry, a culmination of their time spent on the ocean. Even now, after all this time, they didn’t share in affection outwardly, but the occasional touch or glance showed how deeply they loved each other. They had married the year before, a bright sunny day in Ketterdam, a rare sight in the normally overcast and rainy town.
Finally, the time had come to return home. They had spent the week indulging on waffles, walking the streets of the port city, being members of the Dregs only a memory of the past. Like all good things, this too had to come to an end.
“No mourners,” they said as they waved goodbye on the final day, words echoed from the last.
“No funerals,” the others responded. If anyone had been listening to them, they would have found the exchange strange, but between friends, it had more meaning than any stranger would ever know.
The journey back north was quiet, Matthias and Nina sitting hand in hand, Freya on Nina’s lap, where she stroked her daughter’s long light brown curls, arranged in the back with a red ribbon, tied into a pretty bow. She was holding on to the bear tightly, hugging it as they rode.
This , Nina thought, this was what life was supposed to be.
Happy.
~ ~ ~
And then she was three, picking flowers from the garden with Nina by her side.
Sky sat at the gate, ears perked as he listened to the woods for Matthias, who had taken an unexpected trip into town to fetch supplies to repair the barn.
“Mama,” Freya said, tugging at Nina’s skirt hem, “when Papa coming home?”
“Soon, milaya,” Nina said, looking towards the path to see if she could get a glimpse of her husband’s blonde hair approaching the house.
“Pretty flowers, Mama,” Freya babbled, turning back to Sky, who tilted his head to look at her, curious about the little girl’s hands. She had a bundle of flowers
“Oh, Freya,” she scolded, “don’t pick those ones.”
Freya frowned, "You don't like?"
"No," Nina laughed, "Those flowers aren't for picking, sweet girl. They're poisonous, they can hurt you, okay?"
"Okay mama," Freya said, dropping the flowers to the ground and bounding off to another part of the yard without another thought. Her energy never ceased to amaze Nina.
~ ~ ~
“Freya!” Nina called, peering out the door to the familiar bark she heard outside.
The house was eerily quiet, empty, and devoid of her daughter’s usual laughter that filled the halls.
She found them outside, in a patch of dirt, wet and muddy after the spring rainstorm had rolled through.
“Freya!” She scolded, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Nina looked at Freya, her dress covered in mud, and Skjyttër next to her, whose coat was a matted brown, splattered with mud that clumped to him.
“I’m going to have to bathe you both before your father gets home,” Nina groaned, “my two little troublemakers.”
Sky howled in response. Despite his docile nature and living with them inside his whole life, he did not like baths. Not any more than Freya did, decidedly always finding herself dirty, covered in smudges that Nina was never quite sure where they came from. Nina thought that perhaps Troublemaker didn’t quite cover the shenanigans Freya was always getting herself into these days.
~ ~ ~
Another year came and went, Freya growing bigger with each passing day, and in the blink of an eye, she was turning five.
They had kept up with an annual trip to visit Kaz, Inej, Jesper, and Wylan, and it was all Freya could talk about after the last time.
“When will we get to see them again?” Freya asked, brushing the hair back of her new doll that sat in her lap, “Auntie Inej and Uncle Kaz told me they would take me on their boat next time! And Uncle Jesper and Uncle Wylan said that when we came to Ketterdam, they would take me to the biggest candy shop I could ever imagine!” She was sitting at the kitchen table, talking instead of eating the bowl of breakfast that Nina had placed in front of her.
Nina laughed, “We’ll see, Freya. Now come on, eat your breakfast.”
~ ~ ~
Nina was washing dishes after dinner, sleeves pushed up to her shoulders as her arms were deep in a bucket of soapy water, and she could hear them through the house.
They had spent the better part of a year building the new house, a two story thing, big enough for Freya to have a room of her own in the upstairs and for Nina and Matthias to have the privacy of a door again.
Nina dried her hands off, leaving the plate she had just washed on the rack to dry, before finding her way up the stairs, to the room they had built for Freya, and leaned on the door frame, watching them.
Nina always loved watching him tell their daughter bedtime stories. Sometimes he would tell her stories about how they fell in love, about their time on the ice or how Mama had rescued Papa from the worst year of his life; other times, stories about their lives as spies, helping the Grisha; but it was his stories of Fjerda that Nina loved to hear Matthias talk about most of all.
He would tell their daughter about Djel, the sacred white ash tree, about how the people believed he built the Ice Court.
“The Fjerdans believe all the world,” he would start, “is connected through its waters—the seas, the ice, the rivers and streams, the rain and storms. All feed Djel and are fed by him.”
He didn’t tell her daughter about the drüskelle, how they hunted down Grisha and found them an abomination, something demonic and evil. Matthias had seen how Djel worked through Nina, that the Grisha were every bit as human as him, and he didn’t believe in those teachings anymore.
“Tell me more, papa,” she begged, resting her head on her hands as she laid on her bed, legs kicking up towards the sky, “Tell me about Sky,” she would ask.
And he would tell her about Skjyttër’s kin wolves, the isenulf , how they would go to the Ring of Stones in the far north to choose a puppy. He would tell her about Trass, the creature of his own heart. Sometimes when he looked at Freya, curled up next to Sky in her bed at night, his heart ached for his own wolf companion.
Then he would tell her about the stars in Fjerda, how they shone so brightly in the sky. How sometimes, in the cold nights in the deepest part of winter, the sky would light up in a ray of colorful, shimmering light, and how captivatingly beautiful it was to see.
But, of course, there was no sight as beautiful as Mama in her red kefta , the one she loved. She didn’t wear it much here, but it sat in the middle of the armoire that Matthias had built for her, the one that he had intricately carved with depictions of Ravka and Fjerda intertwined together.
Nina wondered if Freya would wear a kefta one day, if she would go to the Little Palace and learn and train and see the world through a new pair of eyes like Nina once had. She tried not to think about what that would mean for them. Would they leave? They had carved out a life here, together, but what would that life be without their daughter?
Instead of worrying, she leaned her head back on the doorframe and closed her eyes, listening to Matthias teach their daughter about Fjerda, imagining how life might have been different for him if not for falling in love with her. If he had married a Fjerdan girl, and could have raised his children in Fjerda, learning about their culture firsthand, instead of from a small house in Ravka.
He had never uttered a single word of complaint, of course, no hesitation in their future together. It was just assumed: they would stay together. Of course they would.
“Wanden olstrum end kendesorum. Isen ne bejstrum,” he told Freya, then taught her each word and the meaning of the phrase. The water hears and understands. The ice does not forgive.
“Off to bed, Little Lady,” he would say, and Freya would slip under the covers, closing her eyes as she fell into a peaceful sleep. She wouldn’t dream of the ice, or of Hellgate, nor of parem or the horrors her parents had faced. She would dream of wolves, and magic, and a life that seemed just out of reach to her small self.
And once she was asleep, Matthias would take Nina in his arms, sometimes carrying her to bed from the rocking chair downstairs, sometimes walking hand in hand from Freya’s doorway, and they would find each other again, every inch of exploration as blissful as the last.
~ ~ ~
“I can hear your heart, mama!” Freya, taller than a usual 6 year old but still filled with every bit of wonder and amazement at the world, chimed.
Nina stopped, turning around to look at her daughter, sitting on the floor next to Sky, her fingers intertwined in the wolf’s silky white coat.
“What?” Nina asked, looking between her husband and her daughter.
“It beats with Papa’s,” she said, shrugging, turning back to Skjyttër, rubbing between his ears as she had learned he liked.
“Matthias -” Nina’s eyes were wide as she looked at him.
“I know,” he said, smiling, “my drüsje wife and my drüsje daughter.” He took Nina’s hand, slipping back into his native Fjerdan tongue, “Fel holm ve koop djel.”
Our home is better for it.
Nina sighed. She had liked their peace, this life they had carved out with each other, a place where they were just Matthias and Nina and Freya. Freya being Grisha meant they would have to go back to a world where Matthias was Fjerdan and Nina was Ravkan, and their daughter would have to learn to be both.
Even with the peace that had prospered over the last ten years, they could never quite escape that.
She felt her eyes filling with tears. The power that she loved, the belonging that she had always craved - Freya would have that too.
“Mama?” she asked, peering up at them across the room, attention leaving Sky as she stood up, walking closer to them, her long light brown hair pulled back from her face with a simple headband, and her hands came up to grasp Nina’s, pulling her focus from Matthias.
“You are Grisha,” she breathed, turning to her and placing a kiss on her forehead, straightening out the collar of her dress, “everything is perfect, Freya.”
Nina taught Freya what it meant to be Grisha.
Just as Matthias had always taught her about Fjerda, Nina had always loved to tell her about her time in the Second Army, training at the Little Palace. She would teach her about the Small Sciences, the way Nina’s own power worked, and Freya had always been captivated. Now it was her story too, something that Freya loved and was all too happy about.
~ ~ ~
“Matthias?” Nina said, pacing into the study where he sat, reading a book, absentmindedly flipping through the pages, “have you seen Skjyttër or Freya? They’re not in the house and I didn’t see them out in the yard -”
“Nina,” he mused, “I’m sure they’re fine. Come on, let’s get your coat and we’ll go look for them.”
“A storm is about to roll in,” she fretted, “I don’t want them to get caught in it. Oh, Matthias. What if something happened? If, I -”
“Nina, she’s with Sky. I trained him, I know he’ll keep her safe.” His hand found her chin and he tilted it up so her eyes would meet his. Even though she was tall, he was taller, and there was always something about the way he simply looked at her that made her feel so safe and secure - the way she always had in his arms.
Nina shrugged on her coat, her hands pausing over her red Kefta for a moment before she found her woolen coat in the wardrobe.
They searched the yard and surrounding buildings they had constructed over the years: a barn, a chicken coop, a small shack for storing tools, but found her in none of them.
“Freya!” Nina called, “Freya!”
“Skjyttër!” Matthias called out, listening for the familiar sound of his bark or howl.
They searched farther into the wilderness, Nina fretting even more as the clouds grew darker overhead, before they finally found them in a grassy clearing, hidden under a cluster of low hanging branches, Freya curled up in a ball and Skjyttër nuzzled up next to her.
Sky’s eyes flew open against the sound of Matthias’ boot crunching in the dirt, and he raised his head in alarm before realizing it was only them , and he sat up, Freya’s arms loosening their grim from his fur.
“Our little troublemakers,” Nina smiled, watching as Matthias scooped Freya up into his arms, the way he had when she was a baby, and carried her still sleeping form back into the house.
She had twisted her ankle, they found out later, as she was running through the forest, and when the pain had grown too much to walk on it, she had simply found a safe, dry spot to rest.
Smart girl , Matthias had mused.
~ ~ ~
When she was nine, Zoya came to visit. They had always kept in contact, writing letters back and forth, the occasional visit to Os Alta when Zoya requested their presence, but Zoya had never come to them before.
“Nina,” she said, “She’s Grisha. You told me so yourself. She should be at the Little Palace, training with the other children, learning to use her powers.”
There was no denying the fact that Freya was Grisha. Nina had known that ever since Freya had told her she could hear her heartbeat, and had begun to teach her herself, as much as she could.
“Zoya -” Nina protested, “I can train her here, with us, where she belongs.”
“You know we have the best teachers with us. She’ll be safe and well taken care of. You can even come back - back to Os Alta, back to the Little Palace -”
“I know,” she sighed. It wasn’t like she didn’t love her time in the Little Palace, it was what came after that truly scared her. Here? Here they could keep Freya safe, protected.
“The offer always stands. Whenever you’re ready, we will always welcome her. Don’t shield her from this decision forever, Nina.”
She had stayed for a short visit, bringing Freya a small gift from the palace, and when she left, she looked at Nina with a sad look in her eyes.
~ ~ ~
Despite Nina’s protests, she eventually realized that Zoya was right, and there came a day where they packed up their small house on top of the hill. Matthias sold the property, receiving more money than they had paid to begin with; and finally, finally, they journeyed back to Os Alta.
One of the last nights before they moved, Matthias had wandered into Freya’s room, sitting on her bed as he always used to back when she was young.
“Papa,” Freya requested, sitting up straight in her bed, “Will you tell me about Fjerda again?”
He smiled, eyes lighting up the way he always did when he told her about his country. Nina liked hearing him talk about his country as much as she did when Freya asked her to talk about Ravka.
When they arrived in Os Alta, Matthias and Nina bought a small house in the city, and Freya moved into the Little Palace the day after she turned 11, learning to become a Heartrender and a Tailor just like her mother had.
She came home every weekend, where Skjyttër would sit by the door, tail wagging, waiting for her to take him out into the woods, to run with him, to train with him as they had her whole life, running and dodging and operating in sync, just like the Fjerdans did with their isenulf.
He had always been bigger than her, enough for her to be able to ride on his back, until one day she looked down, as tall as her mother, and realized she was no longer the same small child who could cling onto his hair and sit on the floor petting him between the ears.
Nina blinked and suddenly Freya was 16, finding herself torn between the calling of her heart and her destiny as a Grisha.
Freya wanted to go to Fjerda, to stand on the ice and experience her father’s culture firsthand. She wanted to see where the isenulf were raised, far up north, to see the ice court and the sacred lands he had always told her about.
~ ~ ~
“I think he’d be proud, you know?” Nina said one day, staring at their daughter and Skjyttër training in the yard. She was a full-blown Grisha now, wearing her own red kefta, fresh from graduation from the Little Palace school. Matthias and Nina stood in the window of their home, watching her as
“Who?” Matthias asked, eyes not leaving Freya and her ever faithful wolf.
“Trassel,” she said, a name she had mentioned less than a handful of times during their two decades of marriage, “I think he’d be proud of you, and Skjyttër. How you’ve raised him and Freya together.”
“I wish I could have brought him home, Nina.” He frowned. No matter how much time had passed, Trassel was a wound that always made his heart ache.
“I know, Matthias,” she said, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his shoulder.
So they stood, and when Freya and Skjyttër returned inside, they enjoyed the warmth and joy of their daughter, safe and home.