by Susan Harris
“He cannot have what is not his!” Her voice echoed in the still of the island, for neither a tree nor an animal dared to disturb the stillness and risk her wrath. She had never felt so angry in her life. He who was her father had relinquished claim over their home to her, his only daughter, and he could not have it back. Ever slammed her fist down on the ornate wooden table, and little Marya jumped at the sound.
They gathered at the back of their home, the decking overlooking the sandy beaches that surrounded them, the golden brown such a tropical sight that it was strange to feel angry in a place so beautiful, so untainted by the outside world. Perched at the top of the table, Ever addressed her sisters who had come to her—some standing, some sitting, but all attuned and ready for attack. An attack was imminent.
Somewhere in the distance, she heard the crashing of the waves against the cliffs, and it eased her somewhat. The sea always had a calming effect on her, and today, when everything was at stake, she needed to feel centered. Ever glanced around at her sisters, the ones who had been able to gather here today, all dressed in the finest of battle attire—from the powerful Danae, to her second, Erika, and even little Marya wore clothing fit for a warrior. The littlest of all her sisters also wore a stunning short blade that Ever had used herself when she had been nothing but a babe.
“He will not take it from us without a fight, Systir. We are who we have been for centuries, and your father cannot change that. You have a choosing ceremony to prepare for.”
Ever narrowed her gaze at Joslyn’s words, the tall, dark-skinned warrior reminding her that she had to choose her champion today and that was why she was dressed in the ridiculous clothing her mother had forced her into. A long, flowing, golden gown sat atop her skin, the straps thin with a neckline that plunged down to reveal her cleavage. The dress ghosted the sand as she walked, her bare feet the only comfortable thing about the ensemble. Today, she would be wed, taking her champion as her own, and be blessed as queen—a burden she felt tightening like a noose around her neck. It panicked her. She no more wanted to be queen than she wanted to wed, but something about her chosen champion made her insides quiver.
“Do you not think we have far more important complications than my having to pick a champion?” she scowled.
“Since it is evidently clear who you have chosen as champion, we see no need to prolong this any further, My Queen.”
Her cheeks flamed at Joslyn, and her sisters laughed—a welcome sound as doom came riding through the night like a horseman of the apocalypse. Ever fidgeted with her dress as she leaned back in her chair. Her sisters straightened, suddenly becoming serious as a familiar aura came upon them.
“You sisters are right, Ever. It will do morale good to finally usher you in as queen.” Her mother ran her knuckles over her cheek in affection, but the affection was gone in an instant, only to be replaced with the face of a hardened warrior, one who had no issues dealing out death. Her mother may be considered by most as the person to invoke for love, but Freya was far from a romantic, and she was considered—amongst those in the know—a death goddess.
Ever huffed, causing Erika to lean in and whisper, “Must we remind Mother that you have already had a taste of your champion? Or does she not know that he sweeps from your room before dawn most mornings?”
Lashing out at her sister, Erika simply chuckled and dodged out of her way with the biggest grin on her face. Freya sent them both a rather disapproving stare, which sent them both into fits of laughter. When they managed to compose themselves, Freya strode around the decking as if these warriors were her own. She tightened the breastplate on Marya before ruffling the little girl’s hair. Marya growled, but her eyes lit up at Freya’s attention. Not only mere mortals worshipped Freya.
“Who is watching over Folkvang, Mother?”
Freya sighed. “I have left Almira in charge for a time. The girl seems more at home there than I ever have.”
Ever understood. Despite Almira being a full-blooded Valkyrie, the young warrior did not hold the stomach for battle and would likely get herself killed. She lacked the lust for blood that the rest of them seemed to hold. She would be much happier in Folkvang. Ever had only ventured there once, and the place had been so peaceful it had creeped her out. But the light that emanated from Almira as she wandered through Folkvang proved the girl was meant for different things.
“I blame her mother,” Freya snarled.
Yet, like most of the warriors who were destined Valkyries, they had been given to Freya at birth to train for their destiny. None except for Ever herself knew for certain who had given birth to them, yet now, Ever suspected that Freya knew more than she let on… if the whispers on the wind were true.
“Enough of this,” Ever insisted. “Mother, we need to plan on how to contain Father. He does not wish for me to become queen and accept the claim I have on Valhalla. It is my birthright to rule and bring warriors over from the brink of death to join my army. We cannot let delusions of a centuries-old myth allow us to go back to the mead-bearing wenches that history appraises us to be. We, the Valkyrie, are powerful warrior women who are not in need of a man to dictate to us how we should rule our kingdom. I will not allow it. If you want me to be queen, then Father has to be banished from Valhalla; his rule no longer is valid here.”
“Such a pretty speech from my beautiful daughter.”
The scrape of metal ripped through the air as her sisters pulled their blades from the sheaths at their hips. Ever raised her head, smiling at the massive sword that rested in Danae’s palm. It was almost as tall as her sister, and nearly as bloodthirsty. There was a reason why Danae called her sword the god slayer.
Holding up her hand, Ever held her nerve and refused to turn to acknowledge the man responsible for her birth. “You are not welcome here, Father, and if you had wished an audience, then it should have been done through proper channels.”
“Can a father not simply show up to see his beautiful daughter on her special day?” he questioned, stepping forward so Ever could make out his profile out of the corner of her eye.
“Not when you have murder in mind, Father.”
He leaned down and brushed his lips over the top of her head. Ever dug her nails into her thigh so she would not flinch away from his touch. His power spread out over her, crawling across her skin and forcing bile to race up her throat. But she had learned as a young babe in Odin’s care that a sign of weakness or fear would not be permitted in his presence. A daughter born of his blood would not be weak.
“It is customary, in the human world, for a father to walk his daughter down the aisle on her wedding day.”
“It is also customary for old men to die and leave their children in peace. Could you do that, instead?”
Odin boomed with laughter, and then struck out, his palm making a cracking sound as it met with Ever’s cheek. The face once caressed so lovingly by Freya now bore the marks of Odin’s rage. Much like Freya, the world at large had Odin confused. He may wear the guise of an old man, complete with white beard and wrinkles, but Ever knew her father. He was a cruel, power-hungry god who craved ultimate dominion over the world. All of his children had turned their backs on him, and it displeased him.
“Odin!” Freya screamed. “Do not dare test me. You are lucky that her sisters have not run you through with a blade and ended the curse that you are.”
Odin rounded on Freya. “Do you think me so easily disposed, lover? Many men have tried to take me out and failed. Our privileged whelp will not succeed where better men have failed.”
He was a cocky SOB, her father.
Odin turned back to face Ever, who had remained seated without having moved an inch, as if the wallop to the face had caused her no harm. Oh, it had hurt; Odin had the strength reminiscent of the great leader of men he once had been; yet Ever would not react to him.
“Say your piece, Father, and leave us. We will not entertain the ramblings of an old fool.”
Odin dragged his finge
rs through his beard, assessing the situation before edging toward Ever once more. Erika slipped from her seat with the speed only Ever’s second possessed. She twirled her twin blades in her hands and stepped in front of Odin and Ever. Ever rose and rested a hand on her arm. Not breaking eye contact with Odin, Erika eased her stance and retreated, but only a margin, still ensuring she would be able to lay down her life for Ever if needed, as was her sworn duty.
“I have come to take back what is mine, Ever. Valhalla should belong to the gods. I need to take hold and prepare for the impending battle. The first rumblings of the prophecy have come to pass. Heimdallr has already been lost to us… Ragnarók is upon us.”
With a snort, Ever shook her head. “Ragnarók is a myth, Father. You have succumbed to the madness of old age. Many have tried to restart the world before, and it has never been a success. Thousands would die, but Ragnarók is a bedtime story told to keep the gods in check. I will not let you ruin those men and women who have joined us in battle. I will not let your berserkers into our home to pillage and plunder.”
Odin clenched his fists, and lightning flashed in the clear blue sky. Odin, it seemed, was not as composed as he was made out to be in stories, his anger sending dazzling and dangerous flashes of lightning into the sea. Ever swallowed hard and waited for another strike, which didn’t come. Odin’s eyes slowly closed as he breathed in and out for a number of minutes. When his eyes snapped open, the lightning flared in his eyes.
“I would think you would be more cautious with your words, Ever, since you have already lost two of your kin. It must hurt to know you could not protect your sisters. It would be a shame if you lost any more, would it not? Some of your sisters are quite young… bones will break quite easily.” His lips curled into a vicious snarl as he shot a look at Marya. A testament to her fire and spirit, the girl stood up, straightened, and returned his stare.
Dismissing her with the wave of his hand, Odin’s focus turned back to Ever and Freya, who had come to stand by her daughter’s side. “Ragnarók is coming sooner than you think. It is necessary to rid the world of the perversion and evil that clings to the humans like a shadow. You cannot prepare the warriors for what is to come. You do not have a choice in the matter, Ever. Do as you are told!”
The command rang true in his voice, yet Ever simply folded her arms across her chest. “I do not bow to you, Odin. I have held the traditions of Valhalla for many centuries without your aid or input. The Valkyrie has evolved since your rule, and we will not go back to being lesser beings to men who wish us to serve and bed them. Change is coming, and you, Father, do not have a place here.”
“Well said, sister dear.”
A voice from behind them was enough to wring a groan from almost every being standing on the decking. A deep chuckle eased her tension as she drank in the sight of the male entering her line of vision. He was femininely beautiful, her half brother, with high cheekbones, angular facial features, and long, dark lashes that had caused more fair maidens to weep then Ever could count. Dark eyes accompanied those lashes, and when he smiled, she knew the trickster had mischief on his mind.
Whipping his long, black hair from his shoulder, Loki bent down to kiss her cheek in obvious affection, and Ever gently tapped her fingers across his cheek. He beamed at her, but Loki’s charms were lost on her. She knew behind the beauty and smiles lay a conniving and manipulative creature who delighted in causing havoc.
“Hello, Kyria.” Using a name given to her at birth by Odin, the old meaning of Valkyrie as a term of endearment… the name she used more often, Ever, a name given to her by Freya.
Dressed in simple black combats and an emerald woolen sweater, he looked like any normal twenty-odd-year-old human, if power did not leak from every pore, that is. When he slung a protective arm around her shoulder, Ever delighted in the look of pure rage on Odin’s face. Just because his children had deserted him did not mean they had deserted each other. Sometimes, having overprotective brothers was a blessing by the gods.
“Sorry I’m late to the party. I was reluctant to leave the bed of the human beauty who I spent the night with… legs for days, that girl had, and a very wicked—”
“Loki, please,” Ever scolded, her tone light and affectionate. “I’m sure Marya does not want to be tainted by your exploits in the human world.”
Marya giggled, and Ever peered up at Loki, who had stuck out his tongue at her.
With a sigh, Ever asked, “What brings you to Valhalla, Loki?”
“I came to interrogate your champion. See if he is worthy of bedding my sister.”
“Too late for that…” Erika mumbled, and Loki laughed again, the sound so melodic and calming that she knew he was doing his best to influence those around him.
“Enough.” Odin gnashed his teeth. “Ever, you will hand over the keys of Valhalla to me, or I will lay waste to all of your kin and end the line of Valkyries right now… Their blood will mingle with the sand and become no more.”
“Jeez, Dad… melodramatic much?” Loki said in his best human voice. “I may have a solution that could put a halt to all of this bloodshed and fighting. A powerful seer has advised me this is the best course of action. Let Ever prove she is capable of ruling Valhalla without you. If she wins, you leave, and if you win, then Ever will hand over the keys to Valhalla.”
Narrowing her gaze, Freya spoke for the first time since threatening Odin. “What are you up to, trickster? Why interfere in matters that do not concern you?”
Loki installed himself in Ever’s chair and slung his boots atop the table. He leaned the chair back and grinned widely up at Freya, who stood just over his shoulder. “Of course matters concern me, evil Step Momma! I love Ever as much as I could love anyone, and her health and life matter to me. But Odin is right. The first warnings of Ragnarók have begun, and I, for one, do not wish to be lost in the chaos. I quite like earth when I visit. They adore me.”
“I am curious, son. What do you propose?”
He conjured an apple and began to chew earnestly on it before he answered the all-father. “I propose a test. Terms will be laid out, and both parties will agree before it can commence. Ever will be cast into the world with no knowledge of her powers or who she is.”
A startled cry left the lips of her kin, but as Ever held Loki’s gaze, something whispered seductively in her mind.
Trust me, Kyria. I wouldn’t hurt you.
And she did trust him… more fool her.
“She will be reborn and left to discover her true nature by herself. If she is destined to be queen of the Valkyrie, then fate will intervene and bring her back to us. If not, then Odin will have Valhalla to lessen the blow of Ragnarók. Though we all know if Ragnarók happens we are all dead, regardless.”
“You cannot expect Ever to venture through the human world by herself. No, this is ridiculous,” Erika yelled, fear a pungent scent around her.
Ever had yet to open her mouth, she simply motioned for Loki to continue.
“Right, so, of course we cannot leave Ever alone in the big bad world of humans. We will set her champion on the same course as well. The Valkyrie queen’s champion is supposed to be written in the stars, right? So let them stumble upon each other on earth. And before you complain, Odin, they will have no knowledge of each other—merely a cosmic pull that may or may not lead them to one another.”
Odin tapped his finger to his chin. “And what is to prevent me from slaying her before she discovers who she is or finds her champion?”
Loki’s smile grew wider, and his eyes danced under the sun. “The rules, of course. There is nothing I can do to stop you from killing her, but I think since you are all mighty and powerful that Ever needs a little advantage as well.”
They all waited for Loki to continue, but the trickster simply let his chair fall back down and leapt from it. He slid across the floor like a dancer and twirled Erika around, ignoring the growl emanating from her chest.
“So the rules will be that
you cannot tell Ever who she is or imply to her what she is, but we can assist her in her endeavors. You can become friends, allies, and steer her in the right direction. If anyone tells her, then Ever’s life is forfeit. Ever and Ever alone must uncover her destiny.”
Ever let his words sink in but she felt no fear. Deep down, bone deep, Ever, despite all her hesitations, knew that this was who she was meant to be. Queen of the Valkyrie, saver of souls and defender of the weak. If she had to prove herself to do so, then so be it.
“I also think, since I know what Odin is contemplating, that we will not be able to track her or know where she is reborn. And since Odin plans on killing you as soon as he locates you, Kyria, I propose a gift from me to you.”
“I’m not sure I like your gifts, brother. The last time, it was that horrific pink dress. The one you thought would look—what did you say? Fetching? —on me.”
“This gift you will like, I swear it.” He circled around and raised his hands up. “As there are seven Valkyrie sisters left alive, Ever will be gifted with seven lives. Each time she is slain before reclaiming her throne, she will be reborn as a babe, the slate clean. If, after attempt seven, Ever is no longer alive, then Valhalla will become Odin’s once more.”
“I agree,” Ever told him, her voice firm and her will strong.
“As so I,” Odin chimed in.
Freya grabbed Ever’s face in her hands. “You cannot agree to this, Ever. Odin will kill you if you are human.”
“Then help me remember that I am not, Mother. I do this for our kin. For the sake of all Valkyrie.”
Loki clapped his hands together. “Fantastic. Now, if anyone breaks the rules, Ever will die, but Odin, if you break the rules and set your berserkers to hunt Ever, then for each rule you break, you will lapse into slumber for a year, essentially giving Ever a head start. Do you agree?”
Loki had tricked Odin into thinking he was a step ahead, and Ever silently thanked him for it. Odin simply grunted.
“Excellent. Now Ever, come here,” Loki demanded, extending his hand that she took. He pulled her close and planted a kiss right on her lips for a moment before he let her go. Her lips tingled, and she felt magic seeping into her. He leaned in and whispered in a low voice.
“I have faith in you, Ever. Hold strong. I’m betting on you.”
Louder to everyone else he sang, “It has been agreed, and the rules set. We shall wait with baited breath as Ever finds her way back to us. Now, bring her champion so we can begin the spell.”
There was a flurry of movement, and suddenly Odin had his arm around her chest with a dagger to her throat, the tip pressed against her skin.
“Round one to me,” smirked her father, but she had already reached for the blade under her dress and stabbed backward, sticking it right into Odin’s eye as he sliced her open with his blade.
Odin bellowed, and she heard a roar in the distance and knew Deryck was coming for her. But life faded from her as the crimson mess that was her blood began to seep into the wood at her feet. The life she had lived for centuries faded away in front of her eyes, and as she felt death tug at her, Ever was certain she saw the trickster wink before she was no more.
