Page 87 of The Magic of Vanaheim
“Or you leave.” Håkon took a step to the side, opening the way to the door for his father. “Whoever wants to accompany you is free to do so. And I’m sure one of your old friends will offer youa place by his fire. But you’ll never set foot in Jotunheim or King Talvinen’s realm again. If you do, I won’t be so polite anymore.”
Bergelmir opened his mouth, and Håkon could sense Talvi readying himself. But the king didn’t utter a sound.
And then he stepped down from the throne.
Just like that.
Håkon felt a little detached, a little dreamlike.
With a whispered command, Talvi freed the frozen warriors. Most of them collapsed to their knees, gasping and shivering.
“You may accompany your chieftain,” Talvi said. “Or you pledge your swords to your rightful king. Make sure you mean it.”
Rightful king? Gods, Talvi meant him. Håkon searched for Anya’s gaze, and she responded with a radiant smile.
Fewer warriors than Håkon would’ve expected followed Bergelmir. If his father hadn’t forfeited all the warm feelings Håkon had harbored for him by trying to hurt Talvi and Anya, Håkon would have felt sorry for him. As it was, there was only a vague sadness expanding in his chest.
Bergelmir walked past him, a look of pure hatred contorting his features. Håkon would have to make sure that his loved ones stayed safe.
“You even look likehim,” Bergelmir growled under his breath.
Who?
The hiss of an arrow made Håkon flinch. He positioned himself protectively in front of Talvi, but he needn’t have worried. Håkon stared at the arrow stuck in Bergelmir’s back. The old king stumbled, and another arrow pierced his neck. Silently, Bergelmir collapsed, blood staining his white fur collar. Disbelievingly, Håkon looked up to where Anya stood next to the throne, bow still in hand.
“I’m sorry, my king,” Anya said, eyes wide and face pale, but her voice was as steady as her hand. “I couldn’t let him live. Ifyou knew what I know, you wouldn’t have either. You secured Vanaheim for us, and that ungrateful creature had nothing better to do than plot your death.” She walked over to him and then, gracefully, Anya sank to one knee, ignoring the corpse of their father only a few inches away from her. “If you disapprove of my actions, I’ll accept any punishment, but I couldn’t watch him plot and scheme against his own son any longer, against our best warrior.”
“Stand up,” Håkon said helplessly. He’d never punish his little sister for killing the man who’d ruled over both their lives with an iron fist. “He tried to ruin your life by forcing you into an unhappy marriage. It was your right to kill him.” Jumping to her feet, Anya pulled him into a crushing hug. Only when she was wrapped in Håkon’s embrace did she start trembling, crying softly against his shoulder. Vaguely, Håkon registered Talvi giving orders, securing the hall, and instructing men to carry Bergelmir’s corpse out. Håkon was so grateful to have him, he would’ve had no idea what to do without his wonderful husband.
Composing herself, Anya pulled away from him. “Ready?” she asked quietly.
“No.”
She smiled and wiped away her tears before turning to the assembled crowd. TheJötnarwere silent, stunned by the turn of events.
“Jötnar!” Anya called. “Bow to your new king! Kneel for Håkon Bloodaxe!”
Håkon exhaled. Then he stepped in front of the Frostland Throne, turning to face his clan.
“My father was a great warrior once. But these times have long passed.” Håkon’s voice didn’t waver. “Cowardice and intrigue have ruled in Jotunheim for far too long. But this changes tonight. We’ll have trade with Vanaheim again and rich plunder in the lands of theÆsir. The time of downfall is over!”
The warriors roared their approval, not only Talvi’sVanirand Anya’s men, but the whole hall. Håkon would’ve never expected that theJötnarwould follow him that easily.
“All hail, Håkon Bloodaxe!” Gudrun shouted, and the men echoed her call.
Håkon waited until the cheering subsided. “And if one of you is dissatisfied with my rule, we can settle any disagreement with a duel.”
“Also remember that you’ll have to go through me first if you want to harm him,” Talvi growled, and with a swift gesture of his hand, he covered the yellowed bones of the Frostland Throne with a glittering layer of ice that made the whole chair look like it had been carved from rock crystal.
Avalaweaving such a powerfulseiðr, and a male one at that, was unheard of in Jotunheim. TheJötnarstared in wonder.
“May I?” Talvi gently touched Håkon’s brow, and he could feel the weight of a crown settling on his head. Judging by Talvi’s mischievous grin, Håkon could imagine that his husband had whisked something similar to Anya’s ice flower circlet into existence. Talvi pressed an adoring kiss to his lips before he allowed Håkon to step up to the throne.
“All hail, Håkon Bloodaxe, King of Jotunheim.”
When they finally retreated to the hurriedly redecorated chambers of the king, Håkon was dead on his feet. For hours, he’d sat on the Frostland Throne, Talvi, Anya, and Gudrun at his side, and accepted the pledges of fealty from his father’s warriors. There were new men and women in whom Håkon intended to place his trust too—his ownliðas well as thewarriors loyal to Gudrun and Anya—but he couldn’t reshape the powers that ruled the whole kingdom in one evening.
“How do you feel?” Talvi had been an anchoring presence during the whole evening, leaving no doubt that Håkon had his unwavering support, and no one had dared to question them.