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In the aftermath of the battle, there was a great deal that needed to be done. The village was cleansed of the dead, and the enemy was escorted away by Emmel. There was much that needed to be decided, especially about the Fletcher land, which was now under Callan control. There was a ceremony to say goodbye to the dead, and the entire village was moved. The mood was a somber one, and it would take a long time for the emotions to be purged. But life had a way of carrying on, and neither Varrik nor Fiona wanted to be shackled to the past.

Fiona stood before the great pyre that had been lit. The pile of dead bodies was almost too much to bear. The tragedy was too great, and there was not enough room in her heart for her sorrow, so it flowed out over her cheeks as the flames burned.

She gazed at the dancing fire, standing alone to say goodbye to her family. Her father had always been strong and pure of heart. In a way, she was glad that his death had been swift, so he hadn’t had to suffer, but she wept for all that he would miss out on. He would never get to properly know the man she chose as her husband, and he would never get to see his grandchildren grow up. The mark he left on the world, and on her, would never be wiped away—she would certainly see to that—but it was a shame that he was nothing more than a memory now. There was still so much that she wanted to say to him, so much that she wanted to reveal, and she never would be able to again. Varrik was right. Her father would have been proud of her. She did everything she could to save the clan.

She vowed to live a good life in memory of him. She had endured much pain, and all Laird Callan had ever wanted was for her to be happy, so she promised him that she would. She would be patient and kind with Varrik, and she would never let arguments overshadow their love. Fiona was acutely aware that time was a fleeting thing, and life could be snuffed out as quickly as a flame. Right now, the wounds were raw. She wasn’t sure she would ever forget the sight of her father being stabbed, but that wasn’t how she would remember him. She would always remember the way he cared for her, the way he let the safety of his people drive him. This had all begun because he wanted to keep his people safe, and it was such a shame that a man like Laird Fletcher had taken advantage of that.

“I’ll keep the clan safe for ye, Da. Nothing is ever gaeing tae take this away,” she whispered softly, her voice trembling with sorrow.

Then her thoughts turned to Lotta, her dear sister that had often acted like her enemy. How Fiona wished things could have been different between them. Perhaps if they had been able to look past their differences, they would have seen that they both suffered from the effects of trauma, but it was too late now. At least, in the end, Lotta had realized who her true family was. Fiona didn’t want to remember the squabbles or the traitorous side of Lotta. It was impossible to deny the fact that she had been a troubled girl, but when Fiona was going to tell her children about their deceased aunt, she was only going to say the good things—that Lotta was a girl with a lot of love in her heart, and all she wanted was to share it with someone. In her memory, Fiona was going to express her love for Varrik every day, in every way she knew how.

In this way, she would remember and respect her family. She was the last of her bloodline left, each one of her ancestors distilled within her. The future of the clan depended on her now, and she was ready to take the responsibility of helping it thrive. From a single seed of love, an entire forest would bloom, spreading its roots out far and wide. She had been willing to die for her clan. She had been willing to fight for it. Now, she was going to love and live for it. She was going to throw every ounce of energy she had into building a family that would last for generations, and she knew she had the right man to stand by her side.

Varrik came up to her. She made no effort to hide her tears. He opened his arms, and she lost herself in the expanse of his chest, sobbing as she turned away from the funeral pyre.

They got married again, this time in front of witnesses and friends. Vikings and Highlanders stood side by side as Varrik and Fiona pledged their lives to each other, but it wasn’t just them marrying. Vikings and Highland women were married too, having gained an appreciation for each other in the battle. The ceremony was a loud and raucous one as all these couples made vows to each other. Emmel and his family were there, as were other members of the Hoffstad clan that wanted to rejoice in this happy time. It was pleasing for Fiona to see Varrik cheered as a hero, able to take his place as the leader of a Highland clan like the other champions from Norway. He had fully shed his reputation as a villain now, and it was clear to everyone that the futures of the Highlanders and the Vikings were inextricably linked.

The ceremony took place in the same field as the battle, but this time, only tears were shed rather than blood. Hands were bound, and kisses were shared. Libations were poured, and the gods were happy.

Fiona stared into space, and for a moment, the air shimmered. Through blurred vision, she could almost see her family standing there, visiting them from the ethereal beyond, and just for a moment, she allowed herself to believe that it was true. They all smiled at her before she turned back to her husband and repeated the vows she had spoken to him under the moonlight. It was a happy time. Fiona knew that her father would be smiling from the afterlife, for the future and the legacy of the clan were secure. They would be strong again, and nobody would dare to challenge the might of the Callan clan. As a mark of respect, Varrik even wore a kilt.

The first thing that Fiona did was make a new decree as well, that the training field was to be officially opened to anyone who felt the calling of a warrior. There was going to be no delineation between a male and female warrior; anyone who wanted to learn how to be strong was going to be given the opportunity. Fiona led many of the lessons herself, along with Varrik.

The Vikings settled in well and were no longer seen as anything other than a part of the clan. They had their place, and they were happy to stay.

On their wedding night, Varrik and Fiona slipped into the darkness and settled into bed together. Their bodies were a natural fit for each other, and it seemed as though his hands were made to slide against her curves. She kissed him softly and placed her hand against his chest, feeling the steady, pounding rhythm of his heart. She breathed in his masculine scent. It smelled like home now.

The kiss deepened, and she felt the deep stirring of arousal.

“I wasn’t sure this would happen when I came here,” Varrik said.

“When did ye realize ye loved me?” Fiona asked.

“I suppose I knew from the moment we met. I’d never met a woman who was so forthright as you, and to think that you actually ignored my offer of help because you were worried it was some kind of trick,” he chuckled to himself.

“Da warned me about that. He said that I should be more trusting. I miss him,” she said.

“Aye, I miss him too. But he is still with us in spirit, as long as we remember him. They all are,” he said, thinking about the others who had been lost. They spent a moment in silence.

“I wanted tae thank ye, Varrik. After everything that happened here, and the way ye were treated…ye would hae been well within yer rights tae leave for somewhere new. Ye could hae gone back tae Norway or—”

He cut her off before she could continue speaking.

“My place is here. I could have left, yes, but then what kind of man would I be? I came here because I wanted to be better. I wanted to be worthy of the gods and to achieve my place in the Great Hall of Valhalla.”

“And dae ye think ye hae?” she asked.

Varrik pondered the question for a moment. “I suppose one never knows what the gods have in mind for us, and it’s impossible to understand their blessing. I’m not sure I will know for sure until I take my last breath and slip into the other world. But even if I knew, I don’t think it would change the way I feel now. I have to make sure that every deed is worthy. I must be an example to the others, and our children.”

“Children?” Fiona asked with excitement in her eyes.

Varrik grinned. “We do need to make sure the clan has a good future. It’s what your father would have wanted, after all,” he said.

Fiona smiled, but then it was softened by sorrow. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s really a blessing to be given life. There’s so much pain that comes along with it. I think about just my life, ye know, with my mother and uncle, and now Lotta and my da. Should we really curse someone with that?”

Varrik nodded softly. “There is much sorrow, but there is also much joy.” Varrik took her hand and stroked the palm with his thumb. “If a child of mine can experience something like the love we have for each other, then I consider it worthwhile. You are the strongest, most beautiful and impressive woman I have ever met. I know you will bear strong children, and if we go through more pain, then at least we will have each other to help us through it. We will make our ancestors proud.”

“That’s a nice way of looking at it,” Fiona said softly.

She kissed him again, and this time the kiss deepened. Their bodies shifted around to take part in this dance that had quickly become familiar. The passion rose, enveloping them in a blistering cocoon of lust. Fiona embraced the warmth. A smile played upon her lips as his hand descended in between her thighs and reaching into her sweetest, most sensitive area. In turn, she gripped his manhood as well, feeling the strength and the power imbued within it. She groaned as she felt it throb and pulse in her palm. The heat scorched her, and it fed her rampant hunger.

She pulled her over him, and they were making love again. His lips drifted across her body, taking in all the joys of her bosom. He kissed the hollow of her throat and brushed away the wisps of hair that flowed along her chest. She arched her body and traced lines along his muscles, feeling all the scars he had collected over the years, reminders of the life he used to live. But he wasn’t the same man any longer. Now he was a hero, a champion of the gods, a noble husband.

They were both warriors, and they made love as passionately as they fought. She kissed him hard, and he grinned as he pinned her down, every inch of his body aching with desire. He wasted no time in indulging it. The mattress creaked under their bodies, and they fought back against the sorrow with their love and their happiness, ready to embark upon a journey that would take them a lifetime to complete.