Cécile awoke groggily to the sound of the bedroom door creaking open and a distinct sound of two small feet pitter-pattering across the wooden floor.
She wasn't at all surprised to hear Halldór weakly ask for his father, his voice still hoarse from what she assumed had probably been days of coughing.
"Awake already?" Erik mumbled sleepily as he lifted Halldór up into the bed, the little boy quick to crawl under the blankets. If Cécile didn't find him utterly adorable she'd be a little jealous that he had just stolen Erik's chest as a pillow from her.
"Puffin said trolls eat those who sleep late," Halldór whispered.
"Today is a sleeping late day," Erik explained softly and gently ran his hand over Halldór hair.
"Oh," Halldór uttered weakly before turning his still sleepy gaze towards Cécile.
Her heart was surely beating twice as fast. He regarded her with a slight confused look and for a moment Cécile was terrified she'd made a mistake.
What would Halldór think about her sharing a bed with her father? Would he be angry? Confused?
"Did you have a sleepover?" Halldór asked and frowned.
"Yes," Erik chuckled.
"You didn't invite me," Halldór's frown turned into a pout and Cécile let out a sight of relief. So far so good, she thought.
"We thought you should get better first," she explained.
"Don't worry," Erik added. "We didn't build any pillow forts without you."
"Good," Halldór smiled and slid off his father's chest, snuggling himself up in-between Cécile and Erik.
Silence settled comfortably over them as Halldór hummed happily to himself. Erik shifted a little and Cécile welcome his arm wriggling itself under and around her shoulders, pulling her and Halldór snugly up to himself.
"Dad, no," Halldór giggled happily, wriggling and trying not to laugh as Erik's free hand ticked his stomach.
"How cruel you are to the poor boy," Cécile laughed, her own hand trailing up Erik's sides as she watched his eyes widen. A devilish grin spread across her lips, she had clearly just discovered his weak spot.
"Don't you dare," he whispered and Cécile smiled wickedly at him before digging her fingers into his sides.
She wasn't sure who was laughing the most out of them.
Erik from being tickled, Halldór from watching his father at the mercy of Cécile's hand or Cécile herself who unapologetically had the most wicked and stupid smile on her face as she reduced Erik to laughter and tears.
"Not fair," Erik whined as Halldór decided to help Cécile. "Two against one isn't fair at all."
"Yes it is, you're the tallest," Halldór reasoned.
"Precisely," Cécile nodded in agreement as they all sat up properly, Erik's cheeks still flushed red and chest heaving from laughing too hard.
"I'll get you both back for that," Erik eventually muttered somewhat sinisterly.
"Oh no. How shall we cope?!" Cécile smiled and winked at Halldór.
"Send him to the trolls?" Halldór replied with a serious tone, which just sent them all off in fits of giggles once more.
Halldór was the one to steer the moment away from a full day laying about in bed.
"I'm hungry," he whined and crawled into his father's lap.
"What do you want then?" Erik asked, pleased his son had an appetite again.
Halldór's face looked thoughtful for a moment before he announced with glee that he wanted eggs scrambled.
"Scrambled eggs?" Cécile repeated a little puzzled.
"No, no," Erik shook his head. "Scrambled eggs is eaten cold with smoked salmon. Eggs Scrambled is eaten warm on toast," he explained and winked.
"Ohhh," She smiled knowingly and looked at Halldór who is trying to slide of the bed legs first, his stuffed toy puffin still in hand.
"Go find your slippers," Erik told Halldór before the kid could run out the door and down the stairs.
Cécile shivered as her bare feet touched the cold floor, feeling a little silly and embarrassed that she was still in Erik's oversized t-shirt.
"Need a dressing gown?" Erik asked her and Cécile nodded.
Although neither her or Erik could hide their amusement as she wrapped herself up in the dark blue dressing gown – completely swamped by the sheer size of it.
"I think I'd fit one of Halldór's better," she sighed and held her hands out, flapping the sleeves around and swatting Erik with them.
"Maybe," Erik hummed with amusement as he watched the dressing gown trail behind her as she walked.
"Then again, we can just pretend it's a royal gown of sort."
"Excellent. Halldór did say I was Queen," she mused with a sly smile.
"True. Suppose I should offer you breakfast then, your highness?" Erik made a half-hearted attempt at bowing which only made Cécile smile more.
"Breakfast would be very nice, thank you," she replied and tried to shorten the dressing gown.
"Here," Erik muttered and helped her double it a little up before tying it over the fold; allowing her to walk without tripping.
"Thank you," she replied, tiptoeing up and giving him a soft kiss.
"Welcome," he uttered softly, the word barely above a mumble.
"Come on, before Halldór decides to try to cook the food himself," she smiled.
"Oh gods I hope not," Erik looked momentarily horrified as he pulled on a t-shirt (much to Cécile's dismay).
"Did I tell you about the time he tried to cook breakfast for me last fathers-day?"
"No, do tell," Cécile's eyes lit up in glee.
"Granted his mother did tell me it was partly her fault," Erik shrugged. "But anyway, he woke me up with a home made card and then disappeared downstairs. I figured he was playing in the living room, but turns out he had tried to make toast and fried eggs on his own."
"Let me guess, eggs and bread everywhere?" Cécile stifled a laugh.
"I don't know how he got eggs on the ceiling, but he did," Erik sighed.
"Trolls maybe?" she offered.
"Oh yes. Definitively the trolls," Erik chuckled.
Thankfully Halldór hadn't tried to make scrambled eggs himself, leaving that culinary feat to his father.
Cécile made them coffee, sipping it slowly as she watched Erik slowly stir the eggs over a low heat, Halldór clinging to his legs and telling him to make at least double portions.
"Butter on your toast?" Erik turned momentarily, directing his question towards Cécile.
"Oh why not. I'll indulge a little," she replied with a smile behind the brim of her coffee cup.
"Good answer," Erik replied with a wink, and Cécile was most pleased with the appearance of a slice of toast topped with a generous helping of scrambled eggs.
Or in Halldór's words: Eggs scrambled.
Much to Cécile's surprise, it was genuinely delicious.
With the addition of salt and pepper of course – although she figured it was probably better for Halldór to have a more 'bland' diet, and Erik confirmed this when he handed her the salt and pepper and told her she was allowed to add as much as she wanted.
She helped him with the dishes while Halldór ran around the living room making plane noises and occasionally talking to his stuffed animals about his upcoming show.
"He's rehearsing," Erik explained.
"I'm glad he's excited," She mused.
"He's made a troll tail and everything," Erik chuckled.
"Really?"
"Yes. It's right now some rope and a ruined pillowcase, but hey, it's something," Erik smiled fondly.
"Well that's further than I've gotten with the costumes for this show," Cécile sighed.
"Doesn't have to be much more complicated than that really," Erik reassured her. "I don't think trolls are known for their good sense of style," he hummed.
"I'm not that familiar with the lifestyles of trolls..." Cécile stifled a laugh.
"Halldór can tell you all about it," Erik winked. "In the meantime, why don't we brainstorm a little over some more coffee?"
"A most excellent plan," Cécile smiled brightly.
Brainstorming alone in the kitchen lasted for 15 minutes until Halldór demanded their presence.
Coffee cup in hand, Cécile found herself on the living room floor watching Halldór do cartwheels until he was dizzy.
Between the little boy's commotion and energy, Erik occasionally passed her some sketches of possible outfits.
The first three would be too heavy, the fourth had too much fabric.
The fifth and sixth were too complicated (albeit stunningly beautiful, Cécile swore to herself that one day she'd get those made too).
However, Erik's seventh suggestion was perfect.
Some simple green or brown fabric, ripped and sown together again.
A dab of dark green paint to it and coupled with a messy and uneven tutu made for the perfect 'troll' costume for a bunch of excited 4-7 year old children.
Tails could be made from rough rope and wool.
"You said the older group wanted troll costumes too?" Erik mused out loud.
"Yes. Their dance will be a bit more complicated.."
"What light have you got available at the night?" Erik asked.
"Whatever we need usually... why?" Cécile looked at him with curiosity and interest.
"Well... If you can get some ultraviolet light of sorts we can just splash the outfits full of UV and glow paint, making them all a bit more 'eerie'," he mused.
"Oh," Cécile's eyes lit up at the idea. "Wonderful. That would certainly put a new spin to their dance."
"And it won't require much more work for their costumes," Erik added with a wink.
"Has anyone ever told you you're a genius?"
"Only him," Erik pointed to Halldór who was trying to build a pillow fort on his own.
"Nonsense," Cécile huffed and leaned in closer to Erik. "You should hear it more," she said and kissed his cheek – very satisfied he still blushed at her actions.
"Thank you," Erik managed to mumble. "We should maybe plan how to make these costumes, and where to get the fabric..."
"I've got an older brother who can find all the fabric we need. And I'll get some help from my friend to make them, don't worry."
"Need me any more?"
"Probably not for this," Cécile smiled. "But don't think I won't make you stick around regardless," she winked, oblivious so the sight of relief that escaped Erik.
"Oh good. I was worried I'd started to scare you off," he mumbled.
"If that's your plan you're doing an awful job at it," Cécile laughed and shuffled closer to Erik. "I find all of this to be very pleasant," she waved her hand around for emphasis. "And I'd rather not give it away if I can help it."
"Me too," Erik whispered.
Cécile sighed happily and rested her head on his shoulders, laughing softly as Halldór covered them with a blanket and told them they had to help him build a fort.
Moment ruined, she thought without a trace of bitterness. Smiling genuinely and happily as she watched Erik pull the cushions off the sofa and pile them on the floor.
Thirty minutes later they were eating waffles and reading fairy-tales in the pillow fort. Halldór happily sitting in Cécile's lap as Erik read them both a story.
'This', she thought as Halldór smiled up at her, 'Is perfect.'
Nothing short of perfect.