Well, this shit just got more complicated. Erik needs to come clean with Dani—she deserves the truth, not this silent shit he's pulling. But fuck me if I'm going to be the one to spill his secrets.
I growl low in my throat and stalk back to Dani's side, leaving Erik to stew in his emotional crap. The fight rages on for another ten minutes before Bryn emerges victorious, like some ancient warrior goddess out of the sagas.
She stands in the center of that ring, snow swirling around her like a victory dance while the crowd loses their collective minds. I glance down at my mate and Christ—that smile could power a small country when she looks up at me, those golden irises that shift like molten metal blaze like the sun. It's fucking beautiful seeing her like this—all hopeful and shit about having a sister to bond with. Someone who gets the whole "surprise, you're half-divine" mindfuck on a personal level.
I can sense her nerves, too, buzzing like a swarm of pissed-off bees. She's worried Bryn might not accept her and see her as the usurper who stole her destiny. I mean, shit—the original plan was for Bryn to be my mate, not Dani. Talk about awkward family reunions.
Buthere's the thing—I don't feel jealousy from my girl. Not a single, possessive spark. She wants to build something tangible with the sister she never knew she had. Destiny bullshit, be damned.
That's my angel—heart big enough to love the whole damn world, even when it's been nothing but a dick to her. She never ceases to amaze me.
Bryn exits the ring, gesturing for us to follow with a sharp nod. Dani's hand slips into mine as we trail after her sister into a longhouse that looks torn from the pages of my oldest memories.
The great hearth dominates the center, flames leaping high enough to cast dancing shadows on the smoke-darkened rafters. Warriors cluster around its warmth, their weapons and armor gleaming in the firelight. Carved dragon heads crown the support beams, their wooden eyes watching our every move. Shields line the walls, each telling its story of glory and death, while spears and axes hang ready for the next raid.
The air is thick with the scent of burning wood, roasting meat, and the unmistakable aroma of sweat-soaked warriors.
I shrug out of my heavy fur cloak, a cascade of snow falling to the floor as I drape it over the nearest bench. The bear pelt is a lifesaver in the freezing temperatures outside, but it's stifling inside this longhouse.
Dani settles beside me on one of the benches, the worn wood polished smooth by generations of warriors. Erik, looking seconds away from collapsing, practically falls onto the table behind us, clearly trying to maintain some distance from the impending confrontation with Dani.
Bryn approaches our table, her movements precise and controlled. The sword finds its home on the scarred tabletop with a resounding clang, its steel catching the firelight. I can't help but admire the expertly crafted weapon, its hilt worn smooth from years of use.
Her attendants descend upon her, removing her armor with practiced efficiency. In moments, Bryn is left in a simple tunic and breeches, her tone frame still radiating the coiled energy of a warrior at rest.
A serving girl appears with a drinking horn, its rim banded in silver and filled to the brim with mead. Bryn raises the horn in a silent toast before taking a deep draught, a trickle of the honey-colored liquid escaping the corner of her mouth. She slamsthe horn back onto the table with a satisfied sigh and finally settles onto the bench across from us, her mismatched eyes locking onto Dani.
"So, how's it going,sis?" Bryn asks, casual as can be, like we're just catching up over a damn pint.
Horns of mead are shoved into our hands, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rims. Dani shoots her sister a smirk, but I can tell she's nervous. "I-I can't believe you exist," she blurts, her cheeks flushing pink. "I-I mean, this is just... wow."
Bryn smiles. "Tell me about it." She takes a swig of her mead like it's water, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "But just know, I hold no ill will towards you, sister. My destiny is my own, and I embrace it full of heart." Her eyes find mine, a challenge sparking in their depths. "And truth be told, the thought of being shackled to this brooding mountain never quite sat well with me."
Dani's laugh rings out, bright and bold. "Oh, yeah. He's definitely an acquired taste." She leans into me, her smile turning wicked. "But once you get past the scowling exterior, he's got a heart of gold. And an ass that won't quit, but that's beside the point."
I choke, coughing on my mead, the burn of the alcohol nothing compared to the heat of my girl's sass.
Bryn throws her head back, her laughter echoing off the ancient beams. "By the gods, I like this one!" Her smile softens slightly, a hint of reserve creeping in as she studies Dani. "At least one of us got something decent from our glorified asshole of a father—besides his spectacular ability to avoid any real parental responsibility."
"Oh my god, yes!" Dani practically bounces in her seat, nearly spilling her drink excitedly. "Finally! Someone else who sees through his 'holier than thou' bullshit! I swear, his head's so far up in the clouds he probably gets high on stardust."
She leans forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Tell me, has he always been this emotionally constipated, or did someone shove his divine scepter up his ass recently?"
I choke on my drinkagain,trying not to spray thousand-year-old mead across the table. My fierce little angel, taking shots at the God of Light himself. Fuck, I love this woman.
I feel the moment something shifts between them—like watching ice crack and melt in spring. The shared pain of Elysium's rejection creates a bridge more potent than blood or prophecy.
Bryn's eyes widen before another laugh bursts from her, genuine and deep. The last of her reserve seems to melt away. "Sister, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship—and our dear father's worst nightmare."
Erik
28
Frommy shadowed corner, I wage a losing battle against my baser instincts, my legendary self-control crumbling like ancient ruins. The sisters' laughter filters through the hall, but my attention remains locked on Bryn, with an intensity that borders on obsession. Propriety be damned—she embodies every dark fantasy I've never allowed myself to acknowledge.
My cock strains painfully against my leathers as I recall watching her in that fight, how she commanded the space, radiating raw power and lethal grace. The way she moved, each gesture precise and deadly. Her presence alone threatens decades of iron control.
The elegant curve of her throat begs for my fangs, while the deadly confidence in her stance makes me want to pin her against the nearest surface and claim her until she screams my name. Those mismatched eyes flash with warrior's fire, and fuck—even the way she gripped her sword makes my blood burn with need. The urge to taste, to possess, to mark every inch of her perfect flesh grows stronger with each passing moment.
