Bleak Midwinter

"—thur. Arthur? Arthur, are you okay?" A velvety touch pulled my face towards itself. Blinking away the grogginess from the plethora of thoughts and long travel from Oslo to Bergen, I opened my eyes. 

As the thin foggy veil was pulled away from my eyes, the first thing to come into focus was Astrid's face, uncomfortably close to my own.

I could see the few freckles underneath her eyes and the two, symmetrically placed moles on the right side of her lips.

"I am." I replied, my voice creaking like a centuries old door.

Perhaps it was a funny thing since Astrid giggled once she heard me talk. Puberty be damned.

"We are here. Your father went inside. They are expecting you." She explained. 

"Your dress. It's different." I noticed. The formal dress was all but gone, replaced by a much more informal attire, consisting of a cream coloured high-neck sweater and a white open jacket on top. The hair that was previously held up in a bun cascaded like a moonlit river down her shoulders. 

She casted one look down at herself, making the loose hair drape her face before looking up. "Yep! Your father stopped to refuel an hour ago. I tried to wake you up but you were too fast asleep. Since you didn't wake up, I changed regardless. Inside the nearby mall." She replied, her eyes softening. Her hand extended slowly towards me. 

I could feel my body twitch. Recoiling back on a pure instinct. Astrid seemed to notice it and the hand stopped midway, before returning to her lap as she awkwardly fiddled with her fingers. "Are you really okay? You look pale…" She spoke, examining me up and down with a worried face.

She was a sweet girl. She was. Is. Perhaps always will be. 

"Don't worry about it too much." I replied, tilting a bit forward. Grabbing the hood attached to her jacket, I pulled it up until it was covering half of her face. 

"Argh—! You— Let go!" She squealed, throwing her hands around haphazardly. Removing the hood just enough so I could see her pale blue eyes, I spoke again. 

"Don't worry, alright? At least not about me." I spoke before letting her go and closing the door after me. The chilly wind welcomed me, sending a shiver down my spine. Grabbing the collars of my long coat, I brought them together, shielding my chest against the frigid winds. 

The whirr of window rolling reached my ears as I started to walk. 

"Hey! Arthur! What did you mean by that!?" Astrid's voice echoed behind me. 

Looking over my shoulder, I spoke, without stopping. "Get my bags out of the car." 

"BAGS? WHY?" 

She was practically screaming at this point. 

Stopping for a moment, I turned around. "I have a feeling we are about to be here for a while."

—------------------------

—15 November 2023—

Arthur Olvasen POV:

Strolling along the pathway formed by crude, uneven textured stones, I walked just behind my father. His wide back shielded most of the view ahead as he sauntered about with his shoulders uptight and his back straight. There was an inkling of discomfort—both in his gait and myself—as we walked closer and closer to our destination. 

"A word of advice." After many fleeting moments of the bustling wind roaring that made it impossible to hear anything other than the eerie murmurs of the western wind, my father—Aksel Olvasen—spoke. "Behave well in front of your mother."

"Lady Sif you mean." I retorted, walking behind him, maintaining a respectable distance. 

"She is your mother, Arthur." His tone seemed to be harsh. It was harsh. No doubt. But deep down, my father was a soft man. Someone who was unfit for being the family head. His timber mellowed out as he looked over his shoulder. 

My own feet came to a peaceful halt. "You are our child."

"Those are merely titles." I replied, feeling the nip on my skin as the winds got frigid. "Just like any other ones. Sentimentality impedes progress and evolution."

Every word that came out of my mouth felt like I was reading from an instruction manual. I could feel his face twist in a melancholic look, the public persona of a tough person melting away like a small ice cube in the palm of a hand.

"Besides, she called for official purposes. I would recommend using the standard procedure."

His lips moved, fluttering… almost gasping, as if out of breath. And then he let out a deep breath, his chest heaving up and down before stabilising. "I— Well, you see, I am— hmm. Should we talk about it? You know, before you meet your moth— Sif, I mean."

"Talk about what?" I asked. 

"You know…" His voice trailed off and the reminiscing look in his eyes, filled with an ocean-deep regret made me realise what he was getting at. 

I shrugged nonchalantly. It was not that I did not care. However, any answer to that haunting memory itself, of her, that woman… It was not pleasing. Not in a bad way. But I would prefer for it to stay undiscussed. Was it even a memory or just a conjuration of my own mind? A memory installed by my own mother? 

"Hmm, yeah— fine, sure. Right." He awkwardly fidgeted. Communication was never a strong point of ours.

As a matter of fact, it was a trait shared by us with most people around us. It's just that the ego from being an ancient lineage alleviated it to an extent that communication for even the necessary things became non-existent.

"Sif would be waiting for us."

"After you."

I spoke as he nodded his head, and started walking again. 

Towering pine trees lined either side of the stone pathway, their bare branches reaching upwards towards the sky like some kind of gnarly claws. 

The remnants of a recent downpour clung to the needles of the tree, creating a gentle pitter-patter as droplets fell onto the stone pavement beneath my feet. 

The scent of damp earth filled the air, mingling with the fresh aroma of pine.

A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I turned my head towards the right. 

The main house stood tall and sturdy. The architecture was nothing short of amazing, housing generations of Olvasens for centuries. 

The wooden façade was painted a rich, deep brown, blending seamlessly with the surroundings. 

However, instead of making our way towards the house, my father turned towards the left. 

As I turned after him, I stopped suddenly, feeling something run up to me. 

*Woof!* 

As I turned the corner, a flash of white caught my eye. 

My pace slowed as the Siberian Husky bounded towards me, its tail wagging furiously. 

A pang of… something, perhaps annoyance, tugged at me, yet I tolerated its exuberance. 

Extending my hand to pat its head mechanically, I felt the soft fur beneath my fingers. 

The dog's excitement was palpable, its eyes shining with adoration. 

Although the overly loving behaviour was an eyesore, I recognized its loyalty. 

It jumped up and down, its tail wagging so hard it seemed like it might take off, before settling at my feet, sitting between my legs as if seeking reassurance of my presence.

"She seems to remember you just well." My father turned around and raised his brows. 

Letting out a sigh, I crouched down. Gently massaging the area around its face, I held the dog—Luna's—face close to mine. "How have you been?" I asked, not expecting an answer. Of course it would be foolish to expect one. Even as the dog—Luna—let out a grumbling bark, I just blankly felt its fur. "Wait for me here, ok?" 

Dogs were such interesting things. Even after leaving it alone for three years, it would seem like it's still loyal to me.

An extent which was nauseating. Humans were like this as well. They could be easily categorised into either dogs that needed to be put down or dogs that you needed to keep beside you.

There was no middle line. 

"Stay." As I pointed my finger, the white-brown ball of fur settled down, placing its cherubic face on its paws. I sometimes wonder if she is even a Husky. The other one— hmm, better not talk about it. It's bound to ruin my mood. 

Passing by Luna, I made my way to the back of the house that opened up to reveal a sprawling lake, its crystal-clear waters shimmering in the artificial flood lights. 

Nestled along the edge of the lake was a small enclosure, constructed of translucent glass and wooden planks. This was the sauna.

"You are on your own from here."

"Surely you don't expect me to find her here, right? A whole colony could be built in this place." 

"Use your eyes, dear son." He replied with a smirk. "I am sure you read it all."

The urge to rip out his tongue bubbled like lava inside me. Biting back a dry grumble, I nodded. 

As he went away, I made my way towards the sauna, the sound of my footsteps echoing softly against the stone pathway. 

I placed my hand on the sauna's exterior. It was still warm and the fog stuck to it on the inside. Recently used.

Immediately, beside the sauna, my gaze fell on a beeline of colourful flowers. 

Each bloom was a vibrant burst of colour against the lush green backdrop. 

A woman stood amidst the flowers, a watering can in hand. 

Looking at the woman from the back, she looked just as fragile as the Viola Pedata—a delicate flower—that she was watering. An extremely petite appearance from behind with thin shoulders and a small frame. The golden locks that spilled down her back felt as if pure gold had been melted down. Ethereal. 

There was someone who was said to have the same hair. Goddess Sif. A goddess whose origins were the same as this country. Northern Europe. A Scandinavian goddess. The thought never bothered me. But she could be related to us. After all, the "Gods"—Zeus and more—that existed after "Adam and Eve" were merely the ancestors of Seven Syndicates, flaunting their powers to the Foulborns. 

As I took a step forward, a voice cut through the air. As sharp as a blade. 

"Dear son of mine." The woman started. "Your footsteps feel heavy."