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Halloth hates the way her husband is hovering over her. In fact, the sight of him makes her want to throw something at him, possibly an axe. There is one hanging just above the door, safely out of reach. She had been told that men were useless in the birthing chamber and at the time she had ignored the advice.
Her husband had been sweet and doting for the entirely of her pregnancy and it had seemed like a good idea to allow him in. Normally he seemed to know what to say and do with himself when met with difficulty. This appeared to be the one exception.
Instead of being at all useful he stands before her looking incredibly worried and entirely useless. His attempts to comfort her, only enrage her. He had been the one to put this horrid thing inside her and then had named it after his cousin who was by all reports a giant among men.
Their child seemed to be attempting to live up to that name.
“It’s going to be alright,” He says, as if that helps somehow.
It does not.
“It would be, if you hadn’t named your offspring after your cousin. The large one.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” He says, squeezing her hand and moving in closer to hold her.
She hisses in pain as another contraction passes, “It’s tearing me apart and you’re sitting here looking more tortured than I.”
“I can kick him out.” His cousin offers. Héra has actually been useful in this endeavor, ensuring there is plenty of hot water and clean linens at hand so that the bed is not made foul.
Halloth considers this, “Can you keep him out?”
“I fended off an army of Dunlendings, I can manage my cousin.” She says, “Say the word and I’ll do it.”
Her husband balks at this, “Don’t you want me to—“
“No. Out.” Halloth decides.
“But what if something goes wrong?” Fréaláf asks.
“We will send for you once it’s been fixed.” Héra tells him coldly.
He kneels at the edge of the bed, unwilling to leave, and reaches for her hands again when his wife cries out in pain.
“Halloth,” her name is a plea on his lips but she will have none of it.
“Get out. I love you, but I cannot stand to look at your face. Go. Go visit your cousin who this creature is named for.” Halloth orders.
“That is outside the city. What if—“
“Husband, I do not care where it is you take yourself, only that you do it now.”
Héra sets down the wet cloth she had been holding and points towards the door, “You heard the queen. Don’t make me get my sword.”
The two of them stare at one another, her husband dumbfounded at being sent away by the two women he loves most and his cousin already looking for a suitable weapon to drive him off with.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would and it would not be the first time.” She assures him, “Remember when you tried to dismiss my protection after your coronation?”
He does, and though he had deployed some cruel words to dissuade her from it he remembers at least trying to be kinder about it initially.
“It’s not the same.” He protests.
“I will call for Olwyn,” She threatens.
“Fine, but should anything be amiss you will send for me?”
Both women regard him with such annoyance that he is cowed into taking a step back towards the door.
“Halloth…”
“Out,” Héra demands, opening the door with one hand and attempting to shove him out with the other.
She is strong for her size and eventually Fréaláf relents. Héra pauses to squeeze his hand, “I will send for you if you are needed.”
He stands in the hallway to listen. The walls are not so thick that they cannot be heard through.
“Gods I hate him.” His wife says.
He pauses, not having expected to hear that.
Héra consoles her, “Yes, horrible man. Have some water.”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time, bedding him. He’s so sweet mannered and lordly and handsome and then before you know it you’re bleeding all over the bed trying to bring his offspring into the world.” Halloth tells Héra, her breath ragged.
“Right, I suppose I’m at fault for introducing you?”
“Yes.”
“Mmhmm. My apologies my lady.” Héra offers.
Halloth cries out in pain again and he reaches for the door but is stopped by a firm hand. Olwyn has managed to sneak up on him, “Ah, I see they’ve kicked you out then.”
“Is that usual?”
She nods, “If only we had Haleth, he would have found something to do with you.”
That brings a fresh pain to his heart, “I wish that too. Is she in danger?”
Olwyn listens at the door, “It is hard to say, there is always a danger in bearing children. That is the risk we are taught to face, just as you were raised to face battle.”
He inhales sharply, “Would Héra stay if something happened?”
Olwyn nods, “If you asked it of her.”
Fréaláf sits down heavily against the wall and waits. Olwyn spares him another pitying glance and rejoins Héra and Halloth in the bedchamber.
Héra finds him an hour later when she leaves, “Have you been sitting there on the floor this whole time?”
“Of course, do you think I would dare be more than a few steps away?”
“No, but I do think you should go for a walk. She will be fine, they both will be.” Héra encourages.
“She does not truly hate me does she?” Fréaláf asks tentatively.
Héra laughs, “Oh cousin, of course not. She hates feeling as though she has to console you when she is in a world of hurt. Do not take it to heart.”
Eventually he does go to Haleth’s barrow and there he stays well into the night. Poor Leif is sent out to find him every hour and assure him all is well. Twice he is sent along with food and drink. It is close to dawn when Héra comes to find him. She has chosen not to walk and instead has ridden Ashere bareback from the citadel.
“You have a daughter.” She tells him.
“And my wife?”
“Exhausted, but well.”
His shoulders lower in relief, “Still angry with me for getting her with child?”
“I think that has passed, everyone is cooing over baby Haleth.”
“I forgot that name goes both ways, there’s no need to save it for a son is there?” He smiles, wishing the original Haleth were here.
Héra looks down at the barrow, “He would be so proud of you and would be fighting off everyone for his turn to hold the baby.”
“He would.”
The relief of it floods him, his wife is well and he has a daughter waiting for him in the great hall.
“Héra?”
“Yes cousin?”
“Does she look like me?” He asks.
She sighs, “She has your eyes and faint wisps of light hair. As for her skin, she is still bright red so it’s anyone’s guess.”
Another mercy, with any hope the new princess would be more kindly received than her father.
Fréaláf is smarter than to accept a ride behind his cousin. Instead he runs up the hill and is breathless by the time he reaches his bedchamber. Olwyn is holding the baby, rocking her gently where she stands by the hearth. Halloth is abed, in what appears to be new bedding. The room still smells of blood but there is something else too. Olwyn is smiling down at the infant and singing softly to her
He goes to his wife first, kissing her temple and offering words of praise. She is exhausted, but as Héra had said she is not unwell. Halloth has even decided her husband is worthy of affection again, allowing his doting until he pulls away long enough to get eyes on his daughter. Olwyn is by the bedside and offers him the baby, a rather robust infant swaddled in a soft woolen blanket. He takes her in his arms and is overcome by beauty of her, “Hello Haleth.”
“It’s been too long since you’ve said that.” Héra says, beaming from the doorway.
“Yes it has. Have you seen her?” Fréaláf says, there are tears streaming down his face. There have been so many these past few years, tears of grief and sorrow, but these are of joy and they will not stop. He presses a kiss to her head, and looks back to Héra.
She smiles at him, “Yes, I helped pull her into this world with my own hands.”
He gazes down at his newborn adoringly and then glances at his wife, “Thank you.”
“And to think you were ready to forgo having children on my account cousin,” Héra smirks, “You appear smitten already.”
“Of course I am. You are sure you never want your own?” He asks.
“Certain, I am content to be Haleth’s favorite aunt.” Héra says as she helps Olwyn clear away the last of the mess.
“My sister will give you competition on that front,” Halloth smiles.
“I welcome it. Now rest, and call for me if you need me to remove my cousin again.” Héra tells her.
“I think I have use of him now.” Halloth relents, “He can stay.”
The next morning Halloth wakes her husband and forces the baby into his arms, “Take your child with you.”
Fréaláf is exhausted and at first does not understand, but it quickly comes to him. For the entirely of his reign Fréaláf has started each day by walking down to the gate of the city to visit his cousin. To take counsel he jokes, though in truth it is a ritual of remembrance. He thinks Haleth would have been a finer king than he ever could be, and his people had loved him in a way they had never loved Fréaláf. If nothing else it shows his people he has not forgotten the circumstances under which he has become king and how delicate his position is.
He makes sure the baby is warmly swaddled against the cool spring wind and partially covered by his cloak before leaving the hall. His wife welcomes the chance to sleep unbothered, if only for a short while.
The day is new and the city is still waking when he makes his way to his cousin’s grave. He prefers this, to slip by unnoticed by all except the guards who greet him.
He does not have to order the gate opened, after several years of this his habits are anticipated. They let him through and watch carefully as he walks to his usual spot, kneeling in the grass with the infant in his arms.
How he wishes he could place her in his cousin’s arms, he would have loved her, protected her as his own had he been alive to see her.
He has not spoken aloud to his cousin in some time, though he visits often enough.
“I have given her your name Haleth, I think she will bear it well.” He hears his voice choke in his throat, “We have hope again. I have not seen Héra smile like this since you were with us still.”
The baby cries softly and Fréaláf rocks her gently until she quiets. He hopes she will never have reason to cry in earnest as her forbearers have. She will grow up in a city still recovering from it’s sacking, with charred black marks reminding those who lived to see it of the horrors that took place there.
When he starts back up the hill he is stopped by his people more than before. In past they had hesitantly approached him with their troubles and squabbles looking for their king’s justice or aid. Now they approach with softer faces, eager to see the princess in his arms.