The playful warmth of the morning vanished as the evening approached. Tonight was the night Bilal had dreaded for years.
Runa was getting married.
Bilal had orchestrated the match himself. He had chosen Leif, the quiet, fiercely loyal soldier he had groomed for years.
But logic could not silence the crushing, suffocating jealousy of a father's heart.
The Great Hall was decorated with pine branches and burning torches. In the 11th century, a Viking wedding was a legal contract of alliances, sealed on a Friday to honor Frigg, the goddess of marriage.
But in Axiomra, it was a blend of cultures. There was no pagan blood sacrifice, no blót. Instead, there was a feast of roast beef, white bread, and honey cake, blessed in the name of the One God.
Bilal sat on his high chair, watching the room.
Runa stood at the center. She was twenty-three, radiating a terrifying beauty. Her blonde hair was intricately braided with silver rings, and she wore a dress of deep, dyed Axiomra-green wool.
She did not look down. She looked like a Valkyrie waiting for a war.
Leif stood opposite her, looking nervous but resolute.
According to Norse custom, the exchange of swords was the ultimate vow. Leif presented an ancient ancestral sword to Runa, symbolizing the passing of his bloodline's protection to her.
Then, it was Runa's turn. She took a pristine, spring-steel broadsword—forged by Bilal's own hands—and held it out to Leif.
The passing of the sword from the bride's family to the groom represented the transfer of guardianship.
As Runa handed the steel to Leif, Bilal felt a physical tightness in his throat.
"He is replacing me," the dark, insecure part of Bilal's mind whispered. "I found her in the mud. I put her on my back. I carried her through the snow, the famine, and the war. She was my little shadow. And now, this boy thinks he is her protector? He could never protect her like I do. He isn't strong enough."
Bilal's jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together. His massive hands gripped the wooden armrests of his chair, the wood creaking under the immense pressure.
He glared at Leif with a look so intense and predatory that the young groom actually swallowed hard and broke eye contact.
The ceremony ended. The feast began.
Bilal slipped out of the noisy, crowded hall. He walked out into the cool night air, leaning heavily against the stone wall of the courtyard, staring up at the stars.
The jealousy and the grief of letting his daughter go were choking him.
He heard soft footsteps behind him.
It was Runa. She had left her own wedding feast.
She walked up to him and leaned against the stone wall beside him, their shoulders touching. For a long time, neither of them spoke.
"You look like you want to throw my husband off the watchtower, Father," Runa said quietly, staring out at the dark treeline.
"The thought crossed my mind," Bilal admitted, his voice a low, rough rumble. He turned his head to look at her.
"I built this world to keep you safe, Runa. To keep you behind my shield. Giving you to another man... it feels like I am failing my duty."
Runa turned to him. The hard, stoic mask of the Iron Queen melted away.
She reached up and placed her strong, calloused hand flat against his chest, right over his heart.
"Father, look at me," she commanded softly.
He met her piercing blue eyes.
"Leif is my husband. He is a good man, and he will fight for me," Runa said, her voice fiercely absolute. "But you are my Giant. You are the man who pulled me from the ice. Leif holds my sword, but you hold my soul. He is not replacing you. No man on this earth could ever replace you."
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, burying her face in his chest just as she had done when she was seven years old.
"You didn't lose a daughter today," she whispered. "You just gained a soldier to help us hold the walls."
Bilal closed his eyes. The crushing weight in his chest finally broke, dissolving into a profound, overwhelming peace. He wrapped his massive arms around her, kissing the top of her braided hair.
"I love you, my little sparrow," he whispered into the Nordic night.
"I know," she smiled against his chest. "Now come back inside. Leif looks like he is going to faint from fear, and Astrid is eating all the cake."