“Bullshit. You cannot deny me in my own hall, Father. I am your son. And this clan’s rightful Jarl—whether you like it or not.” Bjorn is heating to the max now, as his power tries to simmer all around him in a vivid gold halo, though not much can manifest with his manacles on.
As pure fury boils off my First Bloodmate towards his father, I inhale at Bjorn’s words. Because Bjorn’s just insinuated that he is this clan’s rightful Jarl instead of his father.
A shocking detail that makes Ström’s and my eyebrows lift as we watch.
The two drakes snarl now in proximity. I see true hatred spark in their eyes for whatever bad blood lies between them. It’s something Bjorn never talks about; even with me, in our relationship long ago, the subject of his father was taboo.
Sparking his rage in the worst kind of way.
I see Bjorn fight to control that rage now, as father and son come face-to-face. As Bjorn takes deep breaths, working hard to contain the roaringheat of his battle-ready drake, a massive cascade of Bloodwind whirls all around him. It’s shackled by his manacles, and he can’t shift with it; the Bloodwind still sweeps the hall, powerful, as dragons stare in a watchful silence all around.
Jarl Oggi does better, not displaying his power, though I feel the energy of his drake rise all around me like I’ve just been plunged in a thousand scalding baths. As Ström steps behind Bjorn now, touching his shoulder to restrain him from making this audience any worse by provoking a fight with his father, I take Bjorn’s hand.
I am squeezing tight, digging my fingernails into his flesh. The pain brings Bjorn back, as I feel him recede from his sudden Bloodrage.
Berserk with how much he hates his father.
And with how much his father hates him right back.
“You are an ungrateful whelp and will never be Jarl of this hall or this clan.” Jarl Oggi does not have nice words for Bjorn, as they see each other again for the first time in I don’t know how many years.
“And you are a murderer and usurper.” Bjorn is livid, snarling back at his father. “May the blood of all the Ancestors stain your hands and draw nightmares to you.”
I’m shocked to hear the wordmurderercome out of Bjorn; it makes me wonder who in seven hells Oggi’s killed. But the ancient Blood Dragon curse Bjorn has spoken to his father is bad news.
Dragons inhale throughout the hall, astonished that he would use it.
“You know my reasons for what I did,” Jarl Oggi says back as he stares his son down from his low dais. His face austere, his eyes flash a deeper gold with the power of his drake, though still not pure gold like Bjorn’s. “Astrid was an abomination, and could not be suffered to live within our family line. The Magnussen Clan tolerates no weaklings, Bjorn; your youngest sister was no different. She knew what was in store for her. Only your mother could not bear it; she was wrong to step in to defend her youngest child when the Ancestors came calling, and you were wrong totake Friksvila’s side. Ancestors rest her soul. I stand by my punishment for you. And the outcome.”
Shock cascades through me to learn Bjorn once had a sister who apparently didn’t live up to the family standards. From the conversation, I understand his father offed her.
Suddenly, the vision I once saw from Bjorn, of a small girl nearly beheaded by a massive dragon-talon ripping across her throat makes so much sense. That was Bjorn’s youngest sister, and the dragon killing her was Jarl Oggi Magnussen, her own father.
It’s beyond horrible; as I seethe with rage towards Bjorn’s father now, echoing Bjorn’s deep hate, I feel Ström set a hand to my shoulder, as well.
As he holds us both back now, pouring a calming energy through us all.
Bjorn and his father stare each other down in a tense standoff. They are a moment from shifting up into their drakes and battling out their ancient hatred—if Bjorn even can shift in his manacles—when I feel Maryse’s voice in my mind, coming to me from deep within the Void of Ancestors.
Not now, child. This is for father and son to work out. Jarl Magnussen is not your fight. Not today.
My old mentor’s voice in my head makes my rage snap out. Though I’m still not sure if the voice I’m hearing is Maryse or someone else contacting me from the Void, I blink as a brisk energy flows through me now, casting out my rage.
I shake my head quickly and am clear-headed again. I see Jarl Oggi’s gaze snap to me as if he heard Maryse in my mind, though his irises continue to blaze. As his gaze snaps to Ström next, he finally settles. Drawing his energy back, he stares his son down now like he’ll never have anything more to say.
Then turns his back—walking away.
The Jarl has left the hall. Bjorn is beyond wrathful, as his father so suddenly and thoroughly dismisses him, and us, along with our audience.Ström’s got an arm wrapped around Bjorn’s chest now as my First Drake snarls, then roars out his powerful anger to the hall. It shakes the fortress’ foundations, despite his manacles. I step in front of him, making him look me in the eye as I touch his face and put a hand on his heart.
Making him stay here with us, rather than go Berserk into his rage.
“Stay with me, Bjorn,” I say to him now as the entire Magnussen court watches us, minus their Jarl. I put the bright, blood-hot power of my drakaina in my hand now as I touch him, whatever can reach him with our manacles on. “I need you with me right now. I need my mate to stay and fight who we’ve come here to fight—the Black Dragon of the Usurper. Not rage away at ancient wrongs and atrocities his father committed, though they were terrible. Can you do that for me? For us? All of us? Right now?”
Drawing several deep breaths, Bjorn looks at me. Though the gold in his eyes is blistering, his pupils already gone vertically slitted with the power of his drake, he finally sees me before him, and feels Ström at his back.
I feel it as he recognizes the terrible predicament he’s put us in. He begins a deep calming breath that he probably learned in all his anger management therapy classes these past few years, as he’s worked to calm his shit.
As Bjorn feels me, hears me, and becomes aware of Ström and I pouring as much grounding energy into him as we can via our dragons, he at last calms. I feel it as his dragon is put away; as those massive talons of pure hate slide back into his aura and then into his skin, I know he’s willing to play ball, for now.
