It was Fenrin who returned home first. He'd found his father and was to bring his mother back to her husband before his journey south. Fenrin knew something was wrong when the first buildings appeared through the trees. It was too quiet.

He kept to the shadows, dread growing. The estate windows were dark, the door broken. He drew his sword, rushing in. The house was a wreck, everything was broken or stolen. Blood stained the floor and walls. He called his mother's name to not avail.

The basement was charred—it was lucky the fire hadn't made it upstairs. In the sooty darkness Fenrin screamed. Then he made his way to the Jarl's manor, murder in his eyes.

The guards tried to stop him but he cut them down easily. People were screaming warnings but he couldn't hear over the pounding in his ears. When he burst through to the throne room, his mother was on the floor. She was on a white cloth, her hands folded peacefully on her chest, over the copper stain.

"Mother..." He knelt, gentle stroking her hair.

"It was Jarl Hurson, his men stormed the estate. I had no prior knowledge and no means to stop them."

Fenrin looked up at the Jarl who was sitting in his throne head hung low. The Wolf growled and stepped forward. Jarl Soren looked at him with empty eyes. "Before you kill me. Please know my family had nothing to do with this. The king gave him authority to attack without my knowledge. The messenger who was to inform me that he was coming was found dead in the river this morning. Please, spare my son."

Without acknowledging the man’s words, Fenrin plunged his sword into his chest, cutting through him and the back of the throne. He cried in rage, anguish, and frustration. Unable to pull the sword back out, Fenrin left it there, holding the Jarl's corpse upright.

Fenrin retrieved a guard's sword and killed everyone in the manor who had not already fled before stalking back into the woods to find his father.

His sister found him first. Slipping silently to his side in the night. "Fen, I was right, it's Hurson. We've got to—"

"It's too late." His voice was hollow. She grabbed his arm and spun him around. He screamed in her face. "It's too late! It's gone. Our home, our wealth, Ulris, all gone! And Mother....she's dead, Ly."

Lyra cursed. "Damn it. If he'd listened to me earlier..."

Fenrin ripped his arm out of her hand. "What does it matter? It's gone and the High King gave the order to have us exterminated. We have to tell him. He has to know."

His sister bit her lip, unwilling to press her point when Fenrin was being so emotional. "You know where he is?" she asked.

"Yeah. I was supposed to bring Mother to him. Oh gods...what'll he do?"

Lyra cocked her head. "Well, what did you do?"

"Killed the Jarl."

"Then that's what he'll do. Jarl Hurson has breathed his last. Let's go."

She pulled her brother through the trees. Her Aryi slave was ordered to return to town and retrieve their mother's body and wait there. The siblings found Bryn at the bottom of the mountains and the edge of the fenlands.

Lyra sat back and watched everything carefully as Fenrin broke the news. Bryn watched them closely, his body betraying his suspicions.

"Hurson attacked the estate. He killed Mother and—"

Even Lyra jumped at the roar that ripped from Bryn's throat. The Bear grabbed his sword and left without a word, heading north towards Hurson's Jarldom. His children stalked after him.

When Bryn burst through Jarl Hurson's keep, the guards were crushed almost immediately. Civilians screamed and ran indoors and more guards gathered. Despite her injured arm, Lyra took out a half dozen and Fenrin lost count of how many he cut down. They stormed through to the Jarl's castle.

Guards shouted to each other and the huge oak doors were shut tight. Bryn roared and lifted a guard, snapping his spine before tossing him aside. Fenrin and Lyra shot left and disappeared into a side door, reappearing above and cutting down archers who were peppering Bryn with arrows.

At least half a dozen fletched shafts stuck from Bryn's back but he paid no mind. He dug his fingers into the door and pushed. It groaned and Bryn growled with strain. Then there was an ear splitting crack as the lock beam was split in half and the door swung open. It was fast enough that Fenrin got a good look at Hurson's victorious face melting into horror.

The guards charged and the fight continued. To Hurson's credit he stayed at his throne shouting orders until his men lay dead or dying on the floor. Fenrin, gasping and covered in gore, shut the door and leaned against it. Hurson ran.

Lyra appeared from a side entrance and Fenrin yelled, "Grab him!"

Quick as a snake, Lyra tackled the Jarl, jumping on his back and slicing at his sword hand. He shook her off and she yelped as she landed on her injured arm. But her attack had given Bryn enough time to reach the man who'd killed his wife. His huge fist grabbed Hurson's neck and lifted him off the ground.

Fenrin half expected the neck to snap and it be over, but Bryn spoke, "Was it you?"

Hurson gasped, unable to speak. Bryn turned and tossed him on the floor like a rag doll. Fenrin and Lyra surrounded him. Hurson wheezed but his eyes flashed with hatred.

"Finally...you've come...out of hiding," he gasped.

"Did you kill my woman?" Bryn asked again, his voice stone.

"I was after you but you were hiding and the bitch wouldn't tell me where."

Jarl Hurson flew three feet, blood splattering from his face as the bear of man kicked him. He glared at Bryn, one eye red. "Even if you kill me it will only prove me right. The High King will find you and finish what I started. Valhym will be rid of your filth!"

Bryn Grey-bear grabbed his hair and lifted him off the ground. "I'll deal with the king. But first you. You will suffer pain that will make your journey to hell a relief. I will peel the skin from your body and after you've seen your insides, I will pluck your eyes and roast you over your own hearth. I wonder if your men will try to save you once the screams begin."

Before the ashen Hurson could reply, Bryn broke his arms. Fenrin approached, his eyes crazed. "Grab him, Lyra. I'll start with the fingers."

Hurson's screams filled the halls for hours. As Bryn predicted, no one came to the Jarl’s rescue. When the job was done, Bryn left Hurson's flayed corpse in the fire and walked out. The people watched him and his children go, covered in blood like demons from hell.

Fenrin shook with both rage and horror. Lyra's face was dark and distant. Bryn marched on, his fingers flexing, driven with purpose. Although they wanted to ask, neither twin questioned where their father was going.

After days on the move, barely a word spoken between them, they realized their father had told Hurson the truth. They were going to face the king.

Fenrin dropped a bit back, pulling Lyra with him. He whispered, "Do you think we'll make it to the palace?"

The fear Fenrin felt against going against the enemy he'd been warned against for so long was absent from Lyra. Instead her eyes gleamed with excitement. "Not if we go through the front gate. But they aren’t expecting us so..." She gave a wry smile. "I'm more worried about getting out."

She quickened her pace until she was beside her father. "I know a shortcut to the palace. It will get us into the city beyond the first defenses."

Bryn grunted but allowed Lyra to take the lead. She led them along the edge of the mountain the great city of Stadrhym was nestled against. There they went through a system of caverns that led to the base of the wall. Bryn ripped the iron bars from a drain and the three slipped inside. Bryn had to squeeze through the tunnel but they emerged near the palace entrance.

Fenrin drew his sword as Bryn pulled out his axe. As the Grey Bear roared and charged the palace, startling the guards and wandering nobles, Lyra slipped through a side door in the confusion.

Desperately, Fenrin defended his father's back as the juggernaut of a man burst into the palace doors. The High King sat on his throne, nobles fleeing to the sides and being replaced by armed guards. The queen sat beside him, screaming at the commotion and a young man leapt from a third throne, drawing a jewel encrusted sword.

The king watched the battle for a moment until a man ushered the royals to the side. Fenrin tried to break through to them but there were too many. His sister had foreseen this though, and appeared at the escape once more, daggers red and gore streaking her face. Seeing the king’s personal guard approaching, she uncorked a bottle with her teeth and splashed the contents on him as he tried to lead the king away. The man screamed as the liquid burnt away his flesh.

The prince stood between her and his elderly parents. He attacked and she held off his clumsy attempts easily and with amusement. By the time Fenrin had secured the main doors and Bryn annihilated the guards, she'd backed the royals neatly onto their thrones.

With a mock curtsy to the king, she waved an arm at them to her father. "All yours," she said before sauntering to the side and leaning on the prince's abandoned throne. He still stood, sword in hand, in front of his parents.

Bryn roared, "I am Bryn Grey-Bear and you will pay for your attack."

The High King stared Bryn down despite his trembling. "Bryn? Ah, the bandit Jarl Hurson told me about. I see he failed to bring you to justice."

Bryn grinned. "I apologize for not bringing the failure. There wasn't enough of him to carry. He was the sword that cut down my woman and suffered dearly for it. You however, let the sword fall."

"How dare you attack the palace like this! You cannot just—"

Bryn flew forward, knocking the prince to the side with his huge arm and grabbed the king by his robe, holding him aloft. "I am Bryn and I do what I wish. Thank your ignorance of me for it is why I will grant you a swift death."

"NO!" The prince lunged at Bryn, managing to sink his sword in his thigh. Bryn looked down surprised and pulled the sword out with his spare hand. The prince looked at him in horror as Bryn laughed.

"Your son has more balls than you. He at least seemed to understand fighting his own battles."

Lyra snuck behind the prince, placing a dagger at his throat. He stood proudly. "Leave the king, I offer my life."

Bryn laughed again and then stopped suddenly, his eyes narrowing. "Perhaps the king shouldn't be my target."

He tossed the High King on his throne and in one fluid movement drew a knife and approached the prince as Lyra slipped out from behind him. Bryn pushed him to the wall and slammed the dagger through his hand, pinning him to the wall. The prince yelled in pain and Bryn turned back to the king.

The monarch yelled, "You'll die for this. I'll see you hanged!"

Fenrin tutted and Bryn loomed over the king.

"I've beat you. Understand this, you are at my mercy. You've been scrambling at the scrapes of your kingdom for years as I've gorged on its plenty. I have walked into your palace and slain your guards. Do you think you have any power over me?"

The king glanced pained at his family, his wife screaming hysterically at her bleeding son and the hosts of bodies. The king's situation finally fell on his shoulders with full force. Fenrin could practically see his heart stop for a moment as he realized that all he was now was a frightened deer in the jaws of a bear.

"I...I..."

"You are nothing and don't deserve to be called a man. I offer you a choice. I could take your wife here in front of you, kill your son, or destroy your body."

The king trembled and his mouth opened and shut wordlessly. Finally a wordless whine escaped.

"No choice. Then all three it is."

There was a scream and Bryn turned to see the prince rip his hand free. He took the bloodied dagger and lunged. "Do not touch them!"

Bryn laughed, sidestepping the wobbly prince. He grabbed his arm and twisted, catching the dagger and tossing the prince at Fenrin who put him in a headlock.

"Once again your son proves he is more a man than his father. This is for my woman." He plunged the knife into the queen’s chest as the prince screamed.

"And this is for your cowardice." He took his axe back up and swung it. It split the throne between the king's legs, blood pooling as the king was demanned.

"As for you, prince, it's up to you what story to tell. I'm sure it wouldn't do for others to know how easy the King of Valhym was disgraced. Learn from this to leave me and mine alone. For your fighting spirit I grant your life." He spun and slammed his fist into the side of the price's head and he crumpled down unconscious. Then Bryn Grey-bear huffed and eyed the scene with disgust before turning to his children. "We're leaving.”

Fenrin nodded and turned to his sister. She was staring at the prince like a cat watching a fish. "Lyra."

She snapped up. "Oh, yes. Best we go out the side. I think we can handle a jump off the wall into the river, yes?"

Bryn nodded and charged out the door. There weren't many obstructions to the top of the wall, most the guards forming at the main entrance. By the time the archers spotted them and arrows and even some magic balls of fire starting raining down, they leapt from the walls.

Fenrin crossed his ankles and Lyra pointed herself down like an arrow. To both's surprise, Bryn pulled them into his huge arm and turned. He hit the thin crust of ice with a snap and sunk down. They were whisked down river under ice until Bryn's fist punched through and he tossed his bedraggled children to shore. The river ran red and Bryn lumbered out.

He took a dozen steps then collapsed. Fenrin gasped, shivering from the cold water. Lyra crawled up next to him and whispered. "We could do it now."

He blinked and realized what she meant.

"No. I've already lost one parent." Realizing how childish he sounded, he added, "We need him to rebuild."

Lyra frowned and glanced back in the direction of the palace. "I suppose."

Bryn lurched and coughed blood. "It's not my time yet," he growled and Lyra flinched, unsure if he'd heard her.

Slowly, Bryn muttered and his fists glowed, healing some of his many wounds. The twins watched fascinated, it wasn't often they saw their father use magic. With a groan he stood and they set off for home.

When they arrived, half the townsfolk had fled. Bryn retrieved Dyla's body and left again to bury her where he wished. Fenrin decided to use the Jarl's abandoned manor and nursed his wounds there. Lyra went back to the estate, content with its ruins and Vai's tender care.

In the following months, Bryn was scarce, only occasionally returning to check on the rebuilding of the estate under Lyra's direction. He seemed more withdrawn, although he made it clear he was still not to be questioned. Fenrin found the remnants of Bryn's forces turning to him and soon he was leading raiding parties in his father's place.

As the estate reconstruction finished, Lyra began disappearing as well. Fenrin confronted her, "Alright, what are you up to?"

She smiled slyly. "Just planning the future, dear brother. You seem to be doing fine on that front yourself." She nodded a head towards the barracks and Fenrin frowned.

"And Father?"

Lyra's eyes glittered, "I'm actually enjoying watching him wither away slowly. And a coup here would...complicate things."

Fenrin's skin crawled, she was hiding something. Something big. Ever since their trip to the palace, Lyra seemed to have a new lease on life. She didn't walk around with a chip on her shoulder anymore. Fenrin shrugged. "Fine. As long as you stay out of my way."

She nodded. "No problem there. Feel free to run the Bear's little empire. Pretty soon everyone will know they answer to Fenrin the Wolf." She laced his epitaph with mockery and he growled but she just waved and strutted off. Fenrin decided he didn't care and turned back to his men.

Lyra did have plans. Big plans. She journeyed back once more to the palace. For weeks she'd watched the place, waiting for security to calm down and laxness to return. As she climbed the palace walls, she counted windows. Two more and it should be his. There.

Silently, she opened the lock and slipped into the darkened bedroom. The blankets rose and fell as the prince of Valhym slept. Her eyes, well adjusted to the dark, examined his outline. She remembered his face so clearly as he'd lept defiantly in front of her father. He was barely older than her and not unhandsome. Nothing on Vai, but that was an unfairly high bar.

She reached out and stroked his dark hair. Strange it was dark and not blonde, his parents had been blonde. Imperial blood must be in his veins somewhere. She lay down next to him, drawing a dagger. He twitched in his sleep and she grinned. Prince Eirik of Valhym. She wanted him and what Lyra Bryndotter wanted, she took.