Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 370: The Fire of Love That Thawed the Ice

While General Odin was lost in his reverie, Asael lay on the forest floor some distance away from him beside a quiet stream, beneath a canopy of stars and ash-gray sky. His arm was his pillow. The moonlight slicing through the trees just enough to reveal the longing etched into his face.

"Bella..." he whispered, his voice barely audible above the rustling leaves. "I miss you. I hope you and our child are safe."

Beside him, Galahad stirred at the sound, concern flickering across his face.

"She’s in Calma," he said. "Lara made sure of it. She’ll be alright, brother. She should be fine."

Asael nodded faintly, the ache in his chest tightening like a vise.

Arabella was Sigfrid, his best friend’s younger sister. His shadow for years. At first, he was annoyed by her. She wore her devotion on her face, and he felt that she was very clingy. Her love had once felt suffocating—her loyalty too pure, too bright for someone like him, a soldier hardened by war.

He hadn’t wanted to marry. Not with blood still on his hands and war still in the wind. So he’d kept her at arm’s length, treating her politely but with indifference, because he did not want to delay her if there were men who wanted to be her husband.

But when he had returned from the brink of death two years ago, thanks to the miracle that was Lara—wounded, broken, and sent to recover at the Norse Estate—she had been there. Every morning. Every night. Tending to his wounds. Reading to him, speaking softly to him, even when he couldn’t respond. She said she had already considered Asael as her future husband.

Which man would not be touched by such devotion and love? Only a scumbag would, and Asael was no scumbag. Somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, he realized he had loved her all along. It started when he was just a teenager, but he dismissed it as sisterly affection.

Even the cold General Odin and the formidable Freya and the rest of their sons had seen it—how Arabella was the only one besides Lara who could melt the ice around him. The perfect match for a man who had long believed he was incapable of softness.

After they recovered the borders from Estalis and when Carles was given to them as Odin’s fief, Asael thought the Northem would experience peace for a long time, so a year ago, when peace seemed possible, Asael married her. The wedding ceremony was grand as it was a union blessed by both families. Lara was the maid of honor while Sigrid was his best man.

He believed their time together would finally begin.

But peace was fickle. In a cruel twist of fate, the proud general had been cast down, stripped of his title. Who would have thought that in just a year, he would be reduced to a fugitive running for his life?

"You need to rest, brother," Galahad murmured. "You inhaled too much smoke putting out that fire Vidal’s men started. You need to recover your strength."

Asael hummed and exhaled slowly, the breath ragged. His eyes drifted closed, searching for sleep, hoping to find her there—Arabella, and the quiet, golden days that followed their wedding.

...

Dawn crept in like a whisper, the first light of morning casting a silvery sheen through the gauzy curtains of the manor. Outside, the frost clung stubbornly to the windowpanes, but within the stone walls, warmth was slowly blooming, like a hearth being stoked after a long winter.

A soft knock stirred Lara from sleep. She sat up slowly, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders as the door opened. Reya stood there, framed in pale gold light, her face drawn with the weariness of another sleepless night. In her hand was a folded parchment, and in her eyes, the weight of hope worn thin by waiting.

"Miss Lara, they’ll be hungry when they arrive," Reya said, voice quiet but steady. "If not today... then soon."

Lara took the parchment, her fingers brushing Reya’s. She scanned the list—ingredients, rations, numbers of mouths to feed—all calculated with the precision of someone who had not only hoped, but prepared.

"You’ve always looked ahead," Lara said softly, offering a small smile.

"Since Madam Freya and Madam Arabella arrived, I’ve always been waiting for them to come home," Reya replied, her gaze distant. "Even when I didn’t say it aloud."

"Hmmm. For now, ask the chefs to prepare breakfast for everyone."

Reya nodded and left with a spring on her feet.

Below, the manor pulsed with life. Freya had taken command of the kitchen long before sunrise, her calm authority guiding the household staff with silent grace. The air was thick with the aroma of simmering stews, warm bread fresh from the ovens, crushed herbs, and wood smoke curling from the hearth. It was the smell of comfort...of memory...of survival.

In the nursery room, Arabella refused to rest, her hands busily folding sheets and sorting cloth despite the weight she carried—both in her belly and her heart. Her sleeves were rolled up, her cheeks flushed from effort, her eyes shadowed but determined.

"You should sit," Lara said gently, approaching. She looked worried.

"I should have my husband by my side," Arabella replied, her voice calm yet laced with a poignant ache, as if her words had been forged in steel. The absence of his presence weighed heavily upon her, an unyielding reminder of the incompleteness she felt. "But since he isn’t here... I will do what I can."

Lara remained silent, her gaze fixed but distant. With a gentle touch, she extended her hand, fingers gracefully enveloping Arabella’s. In that simple act, a profound connection sparked between them—two souls intertwining in the stillness. It was a moment heavy with unspoken emotions, yet a flicker of strength pulsed through their shared silence, binding them closer together.

"They will be just fine, returning home before we know it. Who knows, when the sun rises tomorrow and lights up the world anew, we might uncover a delightful surprise: their familiar faces, filled with joy and laughter, greeting us once again."

"Who knows before Eos ushers the dawn tomorrow, and before her rosy fingers and golden arms, could scatter the light and dew, you will already see Asael."

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