"Who else knows she's your mate?"

Lucas' fist curls as he turns around to Arun Saleh, who still had amusement shining in his pale blue eyes.

Lucas Roland hadn't seen his girlfriend in three very long weeks. He'd rushed right to the airport from the hospital after witnessing his ex-girlfriend and his best-friend birth a son. Boyd was supposed to pick him up from the airport and help him set up a surprise, but it was Lucas who'd been surprised. He watched in horror as airport staff and travelers all in a trance-like state led Arun to him. The handsome man who looked younger than him smiled deviously and jovially said

"Fróði...So that's what's under all the hair and black dye."

At that time Lucas had only known the reclusive billionaire by name, reputation and portfolio, he could even admit to having admired the man. He hadn't known that Arun wasn't human, that he was an alpha creature from the highest of ancient orders. Lucas didn't like to think about the creatures that walked the earth in human skin, it reminded him of his mother.

"No one." Lucas growls, his glare searching the house for ears out of habit rather than necessity

Boyd had disappeared and Funke had just left for her business meetings under the protection of another creature. California seemed to be full of them.

"I see you haven't claimed her..that's smart." Arun notes as Lucas turns to him

"And yet somehow you knew immediately that she was my mate." Lucas accuses the being, barely holding himself together

It had been like this since their meeting at the airport last night. Arun Saleh seemed to know all of Lucas' deepest secrets and mentioned them so casually it made his blood boil.

"What do you want me to say Fróði? I never forget." Arun shrugs, Lucas' fist curling again from the vague reply

"Relax. Your secret is safe with me."

"Follow me." Lucas states, turning for the tiny yard by the pool.

It felt odd to discuss something so important, a secret so haunting, out in the foyer like this. He could see Arun wasn't about to drop the topic, judging from the way he'd teased it right in front of Funke and Boyd. No one had ever mentioned Lucas' mother so casually, in fact Lucas wasn't of the habit of entertaining anyone who could call either of his parents by their first names. They had died one after the other in his early teens, leaving him and his sister Carlen under the care of an aunt from Úlfhéðnar, another thing he didn't like to think about.

"Go ahead." Lucas urges the man who'd openly flirted with Funke and then softly considered entrancing her

"Do you want me to explain this to you like you're two?" Arun Saleh wonders, running his fingers through the granite counter of the small outdoor kitchen lazily while his gaze rests on Lucas Roland

In his many years in this realm he had cursed his immortality, his long memory, the times he'd bumped into his oldest friends and they hadn't recognized him and he'd been forced to watch them die. Not once had they all been reborn at the same time; this must be a sign. If only he could find Zujuni now. If only he could show her she had been right to suspect Frode was actually handsome under the furs, beards, hair and black dyes.

"There's a rank of ancient beings called the fallen and they are about to start a war for this world. I get that part. The part where it has anything to do with me...explain that." Lucas instructs, leaning back and crossing his muscled arms over his chest

Arun Saleh hadn't entranced him yesterday, in fact he'd been so sure Lucas would comply that he simply explained that he was putting the alliance back together and Rikke had vowed Úlfhéðnar would be with him if he ever needed it. Until then Lucas had thought of Úlfhéðnar as his mother's birth place that he'd never visited and she rarely spoke of. Now, as he mused over saying No so that Arun Saleh heard him clearly, he wondered what exactly his mother and aunt Anja had left out.

"There's six thrones, one of them is yours..." Arun reiterates

He'd already said this before and Lucas had pointed out that the only throne he knew belonging to him was that of Whitlam, whose title he held as Earl. Arun had found it laughable, a little seat like shropshire didn't compare to the throne of Úlfhéðnar.

"What that means is everyone is very interested in seeing whether you ascend to it or not. It could change the outcome of the war."

According to Arun's version of events Riike had died as she did because she'd refused to ascend to her title. From what Lucas remembered his mother was beaten to death by his father, and so this version of events wasn't adding up.

"Rhys, was that his name? Yeah he didn't kill Rikke." Arun shrugs, once again speaking so casually about Lucas' parents and family secrets Lucas glares at him

He'd seen his mum's bruises, he'd heard the fights, he saw the state her dead body was in. If Rhys Roland hadn't done that to his wife, who had?

"Wallahi...you don't believe me?" Arun wonders, stretching his hand

Lucas had barely registered the shiny blade before it hit his chest, knocking the wind out of him. He grabs his chest, the pain spreading across it and through his neck to his head, the blade falling to the ground. His eyes flip as he glares at Arun but why had the blade dropped instead of stabbed him? And why wasn't there any blood? And why was the pain diminishing into a distant soreness?

"You think little old Lord Shropshire could bruise that?" Arun teases as even the soreness in Lucas' chest disappears, returning him to his previous state.

He crouches down at the shiny blade, investigating it for slight. Was it fake? Retractable? A dummy?

"Rikke died because it was her time to. She died miserably because she tried to reverse her choice too late...and there is a choice to be made. I'm sure she mentioned it. You either ascend to the throne and live a long tedious life fraught with the perils of administrating over Úlfhéðnar or live a short life free of its responsibilities and betrayals. Rikke chose a short life, then she met your father and had you and your sister and suddenly a short life was too short. She died trying to ascend to the throne so she could have more time with you."

The blade was real, sharp, heavy with no signs of foul play. In fact it sliced Lucas' finger as he tested it, and the sharp pain was swiftly followed by blood. If it cut him now, why hadn't it stabbed him when Arun launched it at him?

"She was 37...you turn 36 soon." Arun hums as Lucas remembers aunt Anja telling him life was short, that he should live it to its fullest, that he shouldn't settle down or be trapped in a unhappy marriage like his mother

"Are you saying I'm about to die?" Lucas wonders, watching the wound from the sharp blade seal itself, the sharp sting of the tear long gone

"I could promise you a long life..." Arun sighs, crouching down so they were at eye-level

"I could promise you riches and that your little mate will be safe and a long list of victories will be sung in your name...but I'm going to be honest with you instead Fróði. You always enjoyed when I was honest with you." He adds, the heady power he'd shown while arguing with Lucas in the kitchen completely gone from his pale blue eyes, all that was there was a fond softness

Why did Arun Saleh keep calling him Fróði? Lucas didn't know enough of his Danish heritage to know what it meant. He didn't speak Danish at all. He had concentrated more on his Scottish-Gaelic.

"If you truly want to die in a year, if that is your wish, I will not stand in the way. I'll even make sure your little demon mate is protected, cared for and lives a beautiful soft life. You haven't claimed her and so your mate will not die when you do, your powers will not flow through her and none of the people who count themselves as your sworn enemies will come to harm her. If you die, one of two things will happen. The throne will fall to your sister and then her infant son. Those who have been incapable of harming you will go after her in the hopes of killing your line...and when your line is ended the throne falls on the person that possesses Hrotti, the sword that fights on its own, your sword. Do you know who that is?" Arun pries

Lucas shakes his head, surprised by his ability to understand and accept what was being said to him. He remembers aunt Anja asking him if his mum had left him something, searching the house frantically, questioning him over and again. His mum hadn't left him a sword, let alone one that could fight on its own. She had insisted that he take his wrestling and swordsmanship seriously but she hadn't left him anything of that sort. Was that what aunt Anja had been looking for?

"Brynhildr." Arun whispers, her name the only thing he held sacred enough to say softly,

None of Lucas' family secrets had received this treatment from the ancient being, but the name doesn't have any effect on Lucas. Did he know a Brynhildr? Was that a cousin from the Danish side of his family? Was she suited to the throne of Úlfhéðnar or not?

"I want you to think for a moment with me Fróði. If you die next year, your sister turns 28 then, she dies when your nephew is 9, a terrible and very vulnerable year for him because the earliest his abilities might kick in is 11. That means your nephew and all of his siblings can be killed, wiping out your line. Is that something you want?"

"What's to stop me from dying as my mother did, while trying to ascend." Lucas pries already dissuaded from the short life option.

It would have been wonderful to spend a year in absolute bliss with Funke, Carlen, his nephew... but if him dying passed this on to Carlen, he would have to live. He watches a smile spread across the handsome billionaire's face. Things had been bad for over a year before his mother died, when she had been 36. Lucas was turning 36 in slightly over a week. Maybe it was too late for him.

"We'll need someone who has power over death itself...A valkyrie." Arun chimes, his eyes shining with untold mirth and nothing else

A valkyrie...

Lucas knew of werewolves, vampires, fairies, elves, baobhan siths and other subterranean creatures, the rare chaos of all-knowing nephilim but he had never heard of valkyries just as he wasn't sure what Arun Saleh was to begin with. Unless...

"I'm not a valkyrie Fróði, you know that. However, I do happen to have your favourite one staying with me." Arun chuckles softly, the fondness in his eyes hard to miss

Who was his favourite valkyrie?

"I arranged a little reunion. She should be heading this way as we speak." Arun confirms, and in less than five minutes a very beautiful winged woman in a flying black wolf was hovering over the pool, her eyes and that of the most perfect wolf he'd ever seen glowing red.

"Brynhildr." He mumbles breathlessly, not sure what he was even saying

He should be freaking out about the flying wolf, larger than any beast he'd ever seen but his gaze was stuck on the very beautiful woman. Her curly black hair was in a loose high bun falling over her forehead and as she dismounted and made her way to them over the water, Lucas breathed out so loudly he shocked himself.

Her big eyes shift from red to hazel to green and then the most gem-like brown he'd ever seen, just as Lucas stands to his full height, not sure what kind of greeting to offer her. So this was his favourite valkyrie...

"Hi. I'm Sarai." She bashfully says, smiling the warmest dimply smile he'd ever seen as she stretches her hand out to him

"Lucas..." He shakes her hand, something in his chest moving at the contact

"I'll be your guide to not dying."

"So I've been told." he mumbles back

So this was what valkyries looked like? Near angelic, so human, warm and pretty... someone you'd easily follow into battle, into death... someone you could trust with your dying wish...

The conversation was too normal for what it was

"Are you nervous?" Her eyes were so genuine, her voice so warm it snuggled him

"Yes" he confesses as if she were an old friend he had nothing but fondness for, nothing but an open field of kindness for them to navigate hand in hand

"Is this your first time?"

"No, I've been nervous lots of times"

"Me too." She chuckles and then he's chuckling and they are leaning into each other chuckling

"Yeah... Woo isn't going to like this." Arun mumbles before he separates the giggling two