Éire was divided into nine kingdoms, each one subdivided into smaller petty kingdoms. Dallan’s uncle, Morda, reigned as the king of Laigin, one of the nine kingdoms. Mumhain, Brian’s kingdom, was another. In the bloody battle over Dyflin, Morda and his cousin Sitric had lost to Brian, who had forced them to swear fealty to him as their overking. Though they kept their oaths, everyone knew it was but a temporary solution.
Technically, he could be sworn to Brian and also his uncle’s second. Plenty of future kings swore oaths of loyalty and service in their youths. But he was no fool. Dallan knew that his family prepared to shake free from Brian’s dominion at the earliest opportunity. Nay, he was no fool—and neither was Brian. Both knew that if Dallan became his second, it was only a matter of time before they were once again on opposite sides of a battlefield.
As he stepped into the large solar, Brian walked to meet him. Dallan had never been fond of the king, as his family had always been at odds with Brian’s, but after spending some months in his service Dallan found himself gaining respect for the man.
“I’ll be waiting for you in the hall,” Brian told him before leaving Dallan alone with his uncle.
The moment the door closed behind the aged king, Morda walked to embrace Dallan, slapping him on the back and smiling wide.
“You’ve been gone far too long, lad. Your aunt will have my hide if you don’t come visit soon.”
The temptation of returning to the familiar pulled at his resolve. It would be a comfort to return to the place of his childhood, to the kingdom where his family had reigned for centuries, to the land of his birthright. But Dallan was not interested in comfort.
“I’ve only just sworn my oath to Brian,” he replied. “And I cannot leave Eva or these men I’ve fought beside. I am needed here.”
Morda nodded solemnly. Only a hair shorter than Dallan, his uncle was nearly a twin to both Dallan and his late father. “You’ve always been an honorable lad. And I understand your duty to Brian and your fellow Fianna. But Eva doesn’t need you anymore. Is she not happily wed now?”
Dallan didn’t like the ring of truth to his uncle’s words. Only a sennight earlier, his sister, the entire reason he’d come into Brian’s service in the first place, had been married to his best friend. Though Dallan couldn’t imagine a better man to marry his little sister than Finn, a warrior who could play the harp as well as he could swing his sword, it irked him that he was no longer needed.
“Your family is calling you home, Dallan,” his uncle continued. “I need you to stand beside me in the days to come, to learn to lead our kingdom. Eva doesn’t need you here any longer, but I need you in Laigin, as my second.”
Dallan took a step back, turning to face the crackling hearth fires. “I swore an oath, uncle. I cannot simply walk away.”
“You swore an oath to your family long before the one you made to the Fianna. The time has come to uphold it. I’ll give you a few days to decide, then I’ll return for you.”
Dallan nodded his understanding. Though grateful that Morda did not yet plot rebellion against Brian, his heart ached at the thought of choosing between his family and the Fianna. In the short time he’d spent with his fellow warriors, he formed bonds stronger than he’d ever expected.
He followed Morda from the solar, bidding him farewell in the courtyard before heading to the feasting hall to speak with Brian. Pushing open the heavy oak doors, Dallan found the massive hall empty, save for the wizened king in a chair before the central hearth.
Brian motioned for Dallan to sit across from him, smiling sadly as he did so. “I feared this very thing when you came here for your sister,” the king began without preamble. “Tell me, what did your uncle want? Rebellion or you?”
“Me.”
Brian leaned forward in his chair. “Family is everything. I’ve razed cities to the ground for the sake of my family, and I would do so again.”
“I didn’t agree to go with him.” Dallan stopped himself from adding “yet” to the end of his statement.
“You’ve been loyal to me the entirety of our time together, to the point of defending my life from your kin. But you cannot swear fealty to both Morda and me. It would only work as long as the truce holds, and I know that will not be forever.”
“What would you have me do? Forsake my family or betray you?”
“I would adopt you as my own son.”
Dallan hadn’t expected that. “To what end?”
“Loyalty. You would break all ties to Laigin, refuse the oath of the second, and join the house of Mumhain. You would, of course, inherit wealth but no title. You would be with your sister, remain with the Fianna, and gain renown as one of the best warriors in the nine kingdoms. And I would have no cause to question your loyalty again.”
Dallan sat still as a stone, yet inside he reeled from the abundance of possibilities presented to him today. Return to his family and become a powerful king, keeping his people safe and living a life of service to his kin? Or forge a new family, bonded by the blood of combat, here with his brothers in arms and his sister? Though he knew his kin resented Brian’s overlordship, Dallan had seen Brian’s efforts to unite Éire and create peace for his people.
Was Dallan a king or a warrior? Did he belong to Mumhain or Laigin? Should he return home or stay with Eva?
“You and Morda have given me much to think on,” he said at last. “I am grateful for your offer of kinship, and I will give it due consideration.”
Brian stood. “I won’t hold it against you if you choose your family, but you’ll no longer be among the Fianna. Let me know when you decide.”
Dallan watched Brian walk out of the hall. Tall and lean, without his grey hair it would be difficult to tell the king’s true age. When Dallan first arrived at the Fianna trials, he had little respect for the king who had taken his sister captive. But, in spite of his best efforts, every interaction with the man only left Dallan liking him all the more.
No matter how long Morda waited to return for his answer, Dallan knew it wouldn’t be long enough.
