His words were soft, slow. It was all very unlike him. Her heart sped up, and then slowed down. “What do you mean?”
“You are right. I saw myself and you as symbols. And I began to make progress, but that progress felt too intense, and so I pulled away. That progress was what knocked the walls down inside of me and brought my memories back. It’s why I ran from you. Why I turned away so resolutely. Because being with you made me feel safe for the first time in years. And that was what brought those memories out. I… I built a wall around them when I was a child. I didn’t want to know that my father did that. I didn’t want to remember what had happened to my mother. Or that he wanted me gone. It was easier. To survive. As long as I believed that the villain had come from outside of our family. I couldn’t handle the truth.”
“Few people could. It’s a monstrous thing to have to face. It’s… Few people could’ve survived what you did. You did what you had to do.”
“Yes, I did. But somewhere along the line, I was okay. I just didn’t feel like I was. I forgot that I was doing more than surviving. It’s the only thing I know how to do. I do not know how to live, Fern. Except… I kept remembering that my mother is the one that told me the story about Freya.”
“And what did she tell you?”
“The reason that some warriors don’t go to Valhalla is because they choose a different path. They fight for love and not glory. They fight for love most of all, above honor, above country. She cared about that. It was what she wanted me to know. Because I think…my father wanted his own glory. He spoke of Valhalla. My mother… She wanted me to love. And all of these years took that away from me. That understanding. That story. You brought it back.”
“I did?”
“Yes. You did.”
“I still love you, you know,” she said. “It didn’t go away just because you weren’t ready.”
“Oh, Fern.” He moved forward and touched her face. “I am grateful for that. I am so much more than grateful. Because I want to change. I want to learn to live. But I’m going to need you to do it. I… I think I love you. For all that it’s worth, coming from a man who has spent his life building walls around his heart.”
She moved forward, and gripped his hand. “That means even more.”
It was like their wedding, except there was no cloth binding their hands together. It was only them. Only their choice. Only their love.
“Would you come with me?” he said. “Please.”
“Yes,” she said.
He took her hand, and led her through the house. Her brother and Vincenzo were sitting on a chaise, and watched as they went past.
“I’m going with him,” she said. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”
“I expect an invitation to a party,” Ricardo said. “And,” he added, “if you break my sister’s heart, King Ragnar, there is no corner of this earth that will be able to conceal you. Remember, I found your father.”
“I’m not my father,” Ragnar said. “I stand and fight my battles.”
“Even if you’re a little late,” Ricardo pointed out.
And Ragnar surprised her by laughing. Really laughing. Perhaps the first real laugh she had ever heard from the man. “Yes,” he agreed. “I was a little late indeed.”
He opened the front door for her, and for a moment she thought she was hallucinating. Because there was a horse. His horse, in fact, right outside.
“You brought your horse?”
“Yes. I bring him to every important battle. I would never trust myself if I left him behind.”
“Are you superstitious?”
“Yes. I told you. I believe in trolls and giants. And luck.”
He mounted his horse, and extended his hand. She accepted, and he pulled her up onto the steed, nestled right at his front. It was so very different to that first time. Where he had run her down in the field. This time, she was going very much willingly.
“I also believe in Freya,” he whispered against her ear. “And I worship at her altar. And will, for the rest of my life.”
He didn’t need to say it. She knew that it was true.
He was driven by love. Whether he knew it or not, he always had been. The love for his people, the love for a mother that he had lost.
And now, his love for her. He had never been a man who felt too little. Only a man who felt too much.
