Mercy thought about what must be her mother’s grand plan and how meticulously all of the events had to have been orchestrated to get them to this moment. Or how many things had happened by sheer, dumb luck.
The people were bowing down to him.
“No, stop.” His voice broke and then it was Magnus the Destroyer who went down on one knee.
Mercy might have hated them in that moment—the Acadians. She knew without him telling her that this had made the choice for them. Vengeance above all else. She didn’t begrudge him justice, in fact, she’d encouraged him to kill Rollo, but for a single moment she imagined them living quietly here.
A cabin by some lake, surrounded by warmth and green and growing things. Fields upon fields, open and wide.
But she’d forgotten that Valkyries did not live quiet lives.
They lived hard, they lived fast, and burned to ash.
She looked at Magnus and realized that while the quiet life seemed pretty because it was safe, it wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted Magnus—all of him.
And that included the hard things, the ugly things. The things she feared. But she realized she’d rather burn out with him than ever go back to the life she had on Hel.
Mercy would do everything she’d said she would. She would learn to shoot, to fight, she’d be an asset to Magnus rather than the wilting flower that needed protection.
A woman approached, a priestess of some sort. She bore a crown. “May I?” she asked Mercy in the common tongue.
She tried to imagine her father waiting on a woman’s permission for anything. That would happen when the sun shone in the Great Dark. Mercy nodded to the woman and she placed the crown atop Magnus’s golden head.
In truth, it looked so right. He was King of the Acadians—small population though they may be, they were his people.
Now hers.
“And you? Will you accept your crown, Mercy, daughter of Eir, Valkyrie to the Destroyer?” the woman asked her.
Emotion welled thick in her throat. She’d been raised to be a leader’s wife, not to lead herself.
Magnus took her hand and she bowed her head.
She didn’t expect the crowd to cheer.
She didn’t expect this to feel so right.
Most of all, Mercy didn’t expect to belong.
The crown was a slight thing, simple, but lovely. Yet it weighed heavy on her brow.
The woman led them both through the throng of people to a conveyance and then she spoke again. “You don’t know how long we’ve waited for you, Magnus.”
“I’m sure I do.” He nodded.
“We’d heard you were imprisoned on Hel.”
“Yes.” He didn’t offer any further explanation.
“My name is Anae. I know you don’t remember me, but I brought you into the world, Destroyer.” She turned to look at Mercy. “It’s such a transformation seeing them go from fat-cheeked darlings to… that.” She offered a kind smile.
Yes, looking at Magnus it was hard to think that he had ever been small, helpless, or round-cheeked.
He arched a brow as if daring her to visualize it, but then his expression melted into one of seriousness. “Tell me, how did you come to be here? And how did Rollo not know of it?”
“With you captured, he left us in peace.”
“And when he gets word of my return, there will be war.”
“Yes.” Anae nodded. “But it is a war we’re ready for. We knew you’d return and avenge Boudicea. We prepared for your coming when we heard about what happened on Hel.”
“There’s news of Hel?” Mercy interrupted.
“Oh yes. It’s been all over the ‘verse.” Anae pushed a few buttons and a screen slipped down from the ceiling.
“Breaking news,” a voice said. “When following up on an SOS dispatch from prison planet Hel in the Asgard system, Interstellar Commission officers found this.”
And there, on the screen, was nothing but fire. A planet, engulfed in flames.
“The last transmission from Hel shows that a global riot had overtaken the planet and steps were taken for containment. Hel All-Father, Warden Lokison was on Holle when it happened and Stigurrson Brie is on the evac site with him now.”
She was torn between being glad he was still alive and wondering just how things would’ve gone down if Magnus hadn’t taken her. Would she have been among the casualties? She waited with baited breath to see if he mentioned her or Magnus.
Odin Lokison wore a proper mask of severity and empathy when he faced the reporter. Yet, for all of the struggle and the horror, his hair was perfect. Not a strand out of place. His Galaxy Corrections uniform perfectly starched and smooth.
“All I can say is that our hearts are with the families of those officers lost.”
“What about the families of the incarcerated?” Brie asked.
“Of course. It was a tragic loss of life.”
“Then why did you elect that course of action?”
“It was the only humane thing to do. A militant group within the population seized control. If they were to get off-planet, the devastation would have been a galaxy wide event.”
“It’s rumored that your own daughter was still on Hel when you deployed the containment measures,” Brie said conversationally.
He stopped then and stared in to the camera, and it felt almost as if he was looking right at her, that he knew she was watching. “Yes, she was. And as I’ve said, it was a kindness.”
Her heart twisted in on itself and for the first time, Mercy felt like an orphan. It was one thing to suspect her father had no use for her, even to know it in her bones. It was quite another to hear him say it on galactic television.
“We’ve had reports that she may have made it to safety, assisted by the notorious Magnus the Destroyer. Is that possible?” Brie asked.
She saw the blade of his jaw clench so tightly it looked like a knot. “No, it isn’t, as much as I wish it was. It’s unkind to offer false hope of anyone’s survival. The containment protocol is designed to eliminate all threats and, with them, all life.”
He was warning her to stay dead. He knew she was alive and didn’t care. No, he didn’t want her to be alive. She was more useful to him now dead.
It begged the question of why Eir had left her with him. There had to be more to it than engineering proximity to Magnus.
“Fuck him and the six-legged horse he rode in on. The man is not worth the breath it would take to grieve him.” Magnus growled and pulled her against him.
Maybe he wasn’t worth the breath it would take to rail against her pain, but that didn’t change the fact that he was her father and she’d admired him and loved him like all little girls and their daddies.
She tried so hard to please him, and she couldn’t get past that place in her head that said she wasn’t good enough. There was something wrong with her. That’s why he didn’t—couldn’t— love her.
“You have me, Valkyrie. That’s all you need.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder.
Anae held her hand. “One of the ancients said to be careful hunting monsters, lest you become one. I think that is what happened in the case of Odin Lokison. He has become a monster to keep monsters. Do you understand?”
Mercy nodded. They were saying all the right things, but there were no words in the ‘verse that could ease this ache.
Chapter Eight
Magnus had a hole inside him where Mercy’s pain lived. He knew that she wasn’t comforted by his words and that the only thing that could fix this was time.
Or for All-Father Lokison to not be the giant asshole he appeared to be, but that was as likely as Rollo to be begging his forgiveness.
He looked up and saw Anae watching him and something about her regard was wholly unsettling. Perhaps it was because she was a priestess. He’d never had much use for them. They handed down edicts, and wove the thread of fates, but they did not fight like other Valkyrie.
Perhaps his resentment
was simply that he blamed her, and himself for his mother’s death. It was much easier to channel it everywhere else but at himself and look at his own failings.
He thought about what Eir had said. That he was just a boy.
Even so, he was a man—a Berserker—now.
“We’re almost there,” Anae said. “The palace at Gylf is beautiful this time of year. You’ll have some time to settle in before the advisors arrive.”
When the conveyance stopped, it was in front of a white-pillared grand creature that stood much more in keeping with the natural beauty of its surroundings. And he saw why Eir had chosen that spot by the water—it was reminiscent of this place. A pale, lavender ocean lapped at pink sand just beyond the palace. The scents of blooming flowers tangled and twisted in a pleasing way to ease the tension from his neck and the slight breeze that ruffled his hair was like a welcome home.
Anae led them inside and to a room that overlooked that lavender sea. Long white curtains billowed at the doorway, dancing in the sea breeze and he imagined what lay beyond the waters. Were there other strange lands with new sands? He longed to build a ship and sail toward the horizon like his ancestors had in days of yore on earth.
“There is fresh produce and ration packs for your consumption. The royal chef will come with the advisors. I have much to do before they arrive.” Anae kissed both their cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re finally here.”
As soon as Anae was gone, Mercy pulled off the crown and set it down on a nearby table with a careful reverence.
“I suppose it’s unkind, but I don’t really like her.”
“Priestesses have never been my favorite people.” The golden crown on his own head felt like a lie and he followed suit and removed it.
“Me either. Pompous and pushy.” She wrinkled her nose.
He laughed and drew her near.
“Although I did like that she asked my permission before crowning you.”
“That’s how it is in Valkyrie society. I keep forgetting that you weren’t raised that way.”
“I wonder how my mother and Odin ever…” She shook her head. “I think she’d have been miserable.” Mercy shrugged. “Him too, most likely.”
Magnus leaned his head against her heart. “I don’t think we’re safe here.”
“I don’t think we’re safe anywhere.”
“It’s just, it was too easy. I know Eir meant well, but something just feels off.”
“Our welcoming did seem a bit showy for last minute,” she sighed. “Maybe it’s okay that we’re not safe. Maybe being here will cause our enemies to strike and we can defeat them in the light, for the whole ‘verse to see.”
His arms tightened around her and even though she knew what he was going to ask next, it was still a shock to her system when he said the words.
“Even if that enemy is your father?”
“He will always be my father and I hope you understand that when he is gone, I will mourn the loss of my father, but I won’t blame you. Not if he comes after us.”
“And Rollo?”
“We’ll just have to hope we can meet him on our own terms.”
“What your mother said—”
“I choose you.”
He lifted his head. “What?”
“Whatever happens, I choose you. We’re not going to hide from him and hope he doesn’t come steal our happiness. Even though it’s only been a short time, I know you like I know myself. I guess it’s the Valkyrie/Berserker bond or something, but I know you’d never be happy, never be able to breathe while he lived.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?” She pushed her hands through his hair.
“For not asking me to choose, because I would choose you, Mercy.”
His grip was so tight, it was almost pain, but she didn’t move. It was as if he were trying to anchor her there, or maybe it was himself.
“A Valkyrie worth her salt wouldn’t ask you to.”
“No, but maybe a smart woman would,” a voice sounded from the door.
Mercy had had just about enough of surprises, but unlike when she’d be alone with Fenris, she wasn’t afraid. It wasn’t only because Magnus was with her. She wasn’t afraid because there was nothing he could do to her now that mattered. She’d finally found her own place in the ‘verse, her own purpose.
Rollo, the bastard who would be king, couldn’t take that away from her.
He stood like some melodramatic villain, dressed in a black tech suit—mech wings spread out behind his shoulders, and the black forest of his hair hanging down over his pale brow.
“You just killed yourself,” Mercy said. “You’re dead, and you don’t even know it.”
His eyes slid to her, and they reminded her of the Great Dark. No light. No hope. Endless nothing. “You’ll be an interesting addition to my harem. I’ll put you in a cage with my other Valkyrie. Maybe I’ll let you fight to the death for the honor.”
She snarled.
“I like that fire. You didn’t have that last time I was on Hel. I would’ve accepted when your father gave you—”
Magnus cut him off with the deadly song of his war hammer. He swung the beast through the air in a killing arc, but Rollo, for all his theatrics was a hardened warrior. He would’ve had to have been, to have defeated Boudicea. He met the blow with one of his own.
The clash of war hammers echoed throughout the great white-pillared halls.
But Mercy wouldn’t be just an observer to this battle. She was engaged with a cool hand closed around her throat from behind.
She had no training, but the something that flowed hot and volcanic through her blood spurred to life and guided her movements. She grabbed the restraining wrist and used her own body to leverage the other woman, so that Mercy threw her forward and evened the playing field.
Anae scrambled to her feet and produced a thin silver blade from her armlet. “Time to die, princess.”
Mercy didn’t bother to respond. She didn’t need to threaten the other woman, didn’t need to enumerate the ways in which she would dis-articulate all her moving joints. No, Mercy was about action, not promises.
It didn’t matter why Anae had joined with Rollo. It didn’t matter what her evil plan was. All that mattered was that Mercy knew that she’d learn what it meant to take a life.
There was a moment when it seemed as if time stopped. Everything slowed down as if they were all moving through anti-gravity. Her vision narrowed, so all Mercy could see was the priestess’s neck and the thin blue veins under the ivory skin. So fragile.
So breakable.
The priestess drew her blade, held it high, and launched herself at her opponent.
Mercy saw her coming in slow motion, her muscles and ligaments moved without any conscious instruction and her left fist extended with so much force, bolstered by Magnus’s strength, that she punched through Anae’s throat.
In one fluid motion, she dropped the priestess, caught the silver blade and spun through the air, her body guided by instinct, passion, and the connection to her Berserker.
She put that silver blade through the back of Rollo’s head and he dropped like a stone.
Mercy ducked just in time to avoid losing her own head to Magnus’s war hammer.
The look of horror on his face told her just how close she’d come. The war hammer dropped from his hand and instead, his arms were full of her.
“Sweet fucking Valhalla, what the hell were you thinking?”
She clung to him, unmindful of the blood and sweat on them both.
“I wasn’t thinking. I was being a Valkyrie.”
“You are certainly Eir’s daughter.”
“Mercy Eirsdottir. I like it.”
“Then wear it. You’ve earned it.” He kissed her hard.
“You’re not angry I took your chance at vengeance?”
“You’re safe. That’s all that matters. That’s all that’s ever mattered.”
“You say the prettiest things, Berserk
er.”
“Yeah, but you’ve got other uses for my mouth.”
“That, I do. And I intend to work you hard, once we’re somewhere safe.”
“And where is safe, do you think, Mercy?”
“Is that your way of saying you want to stay here?” She put her hand on his cheek.
“The Acadians are my people. Your people. You’d be a queen.”
“My father raised me for a life in politics. I could do worse.” She shrugged. “We’ll have to get a contingent of soldiers here, until we’ve rooted out all of Rollo’s supporters.”
“And here you thought you didn’t think like a Valkyrie. I have you almost naked in my arms, post battle, and there you go talking about strategy. It’s kind of sexy.”
“Only kind of?”
“Yeah, I like it better after the talking.” He nuzzled her ear. “And so do you.” He carried her out the doors and, still clothed into the fey purple waters that washed away the blood, the fear, and all that was left of Odinsdottir.
She’d been quite right when she said she was the girl who used to be Mercy Odinsdottir because all that was left was Valkyrie.
Eirsdottir.
Valkyrie to Magnus the Destroyer.
Receiver of Happy Ever After.
Epilogue
Magnus the Destroyer, bad-ass extraordinaire and King of the Acadians, had a tankard of mead halfway to his lips when a screech sounded from the upstairs room where his beloved lay sleeping.
He paused—debating which reaction was appropriate. To run up the stairs swinging his war hammer ready to do murderous things to any who’d dared disturb his love, or slinking outside to work on the special dagger he was carving for her.
Actually, if anyone had dared disturb Mercy’s slumber, he wouldn’t give a six-legged horse’s turd for their future.
He brought the mead closer to his lips, and she screeched again.
Damn it, it was like she knew.
Eir took the tankard out of his hand and drained it. Since Rollo’s death, with her fifteen year mission at an end, she’d retired and come to live on Lycaos Four. “Sounds like your ladylove is in need of your services.”
“Why don’t you go see?” he dared her.
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