“I am a Valkyrie. It’s my duty to protect those who can’t protect themselves.”
“By aiming your Berserker like a gun? If you think a man should lose his life, then you should be the one to take it. Carry out the sentence you hand down, my daughter.”
“Fine. Teach me how to use that gun.”
Magnus closed his eyes. “That is not the right answer.”
“Isn’t it?” Eir cocked her head to the side. “If you’re not willing to give up your pursuit of vengeance, you’re dragging her into it. And if you put her in the middle of a war, shouldn’t she know how to defend herself?”
“I hadn’t decided.”
“So now it’s up to you to decide her future?”
“Isn’t it?” he threw the words back at her. “You put that on me when you asked me to choose between justice and Mercy.”
“There can be no justice without mercy. It takes a strong man to deliver both.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I think it is. You’ll see that as well, in time.”
“I think you two are forgetting that neither one of you will decide my future. I will. If I wish to learn how to use a gun, I will. If I choose to kill a man that needs killing, I will. And if I choose Magnus’s vengeance to deliver justice for a whole murdered tribe—I am a Valkyrie, and I will choose it.”
The walls of the ship resonated with her words.
Magnus couldn’t have been more proud and displeased at the same moment. The things that he admired in her were the same things that he couldn’t protect her from. He couldn’t protect her from herself—from making her own choices.
But if he chose to let Rollo go and ended up living on some sweet environed planet with waterfalls and beaches, green for miles, could he stand to live with the guilt for letting Boudicea’s killer go free? Could he stand to look in the eyes of his children, meet their gazes knowing he’d walked away from punishing Rollo?
Or worse, could he look in their eyes knowing it was his fault—that he put some ideal before their mother and that’s why she was dead?
Mercy put her hand on his shoulder. “Stop it.”
He found that he couldn’t meet her eyes, much like the imaginary children he’d conjured who wore her face.
“He’s a blight on the ‘verse, Magnus. You wouldn’t hunt him if he didn’t have it coming.”
But did Mercy deserve what this could mean?
“What if I told you that the Commission would see it done? What do you think I’ve been doing with these years of my life? I will end him, but I can’t make him a martyr. These scum are all hydra. You cut off one head, many grow strong to claim the rubble. It takes time.”
“I should let someone else fight my battles?” He bristled at the thought.
“No, but maybe it’s not only your battle. He’s hurt so many. You don’t have to be the hero,” Eir said.
“I am no hero, never wanted to be. If I was a hero, I would’ve saved the Acadians.”
“You were just a boy.”
“I was a Berserker full grown,” he corrected her.
“Barely away from your mother’s house,” Eir added gently. “You have much to think on together. I’ll show you to your quarters. We have a few hours before we reach Lycaos Four.”
Chapter Seven
Her whole world had just come undone and rebuilt itself.
Her mother was alive.
She’d come for her.
Mercy had so many questions, but it seemed like she was unwilling to answer even the slightest. Then it occurred to her that maybe it was simply too hard to speak of. Valkyries were strong, but their intensity applied to more than just battle. They felt everything keenly, much like the Berserkers did.
She tried to imagine what it must’ve been like to make that choice, to leave her child. She couldn’t fathom it, and even though Mercy knew it wasn’t the case, she felt like maybe she was somehow unworthy. That’s why her mother left her—she didn’t want her.
But she knew Eir loved her.
Mercy remembered one of their last trips to a reserve
“By aiming your Berserker like a gun? If you think a man should lose his life, then you should be the one to take it. Carry out the sentence you hand down, my daughter.”
“Fine. Teach me how to use that gun.”
Magnus closed his eyes. “That is not the right answer.”
“Isn’t it?” Eir cocked her head to the side. “If you’re not willing to give up your pursuit of vengeance, you’re dragging her into it. And if you put her in the middle of a war, shouldn’t she know how to defend herself?”
“I hadn’t decided.”
“So now it’s up to you to decide her future?”
“Isn’t it?” he threw the words back at her. “You put that on me when you asked me to choose between justice and Mercy.”
“There can be no justice without mercy. It takes a strong man to deliver both.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I think it is. You’ll see that as well, in time.”
“I think you two are forgetting that neither one of you will decide my future. I will. If I wish to learn how to use a gun, I will. If I choose to kill a man that needs killing, I will. And if I choose Magnus’s vengeance to deliver justice for a whole murdered tribe—I am a Valkyrie, and I will choose it.”
The walls of the ship resonated with her words.
Magnus couldn’t have been more proud and displeased at the same moment. The things that he admired in her were the same things that he couldn’t protect her from. He couldn’t protect her from herself—from making her own choices.
But if he chose to let Rollo go and ended up living on some sweet environed planet with waterfalls and beaches, green for miles, could he stand to live with the guilt for letting Boudicea’s killer go free? Could he stand to look in the eyes of his children, meet their gazes knowing he’d walked away from punishing Rollo?
Or worse, could he look in their eyes knowing it was his fault—that he put some ideal before their mother and that’s why she was dead?
Mercy put her hand on his shoulder. “Stop it.”
He found that he couldn’t meet her eyes, much like the imaginary children he’d conjured who wore her face.
“He’s a blight on the ‘verse, Magnus. You wouldn’t hunt him if he didn’t have it coming.”
But did Mercy deserve what this could mean?
“What if I told you that the Commission would see it done? What do you think I’ve been doing with these years of my life? I will end him, but I can’t make him a martyr. These scum are all hydra. You cut off one head, many grow strong to claim the rubble. It takes time.”
“I should let someone else fight my battles?” He bristled at the thought.
“No, but maybe it’s not only your battle. He’s hurt so many. You don’t have to be the hero,” Eir said.
“I am no hero, never wanted to be. If I was a hero, I would’ve saved the Acadians.”
“You were just a boy.”
“I was a Berserker full grown,” he corrected her.
“Barely away from your mother’s house,” Eir added gently. “You have much to think on together. I’ll show you to your quarters. We have a few hours before we reach Lycaos Four.”
Chapter Seven
Her whole world had just come undone and rebuilt itself.
Her mother was alive.
She’d come for her.
Mercy had so many questions, but it seemed like she was unwilling to answer even the slightest. Then it occurred to her that maybe it was simply too hard to speak of. Valkyries were strong, but their intensity applied to more than just battle. They felt everything keenly, much like the Berserkers did.
She tried to imagine what it must’ve been like to make that choice, to leave her child. She couldn’t fathom it, and even though Mercy knew it wasn’t the case, she felt like maybe she was somehow unworthy. That’s why her mother left her—she didn’t want her.
But she knew Eir loved her.
Mercy remembered one of their last trips to a reserve
Similar Books
