Chapter 1
(Eret's POV)
It's been less than 24 hours since we arrived on Wolfsbane, and, already, we're thrown into preparations for our chief and chieftess ceremony.
We've been washed, and my outfit has been picked out by my new right hand man, and Becky's outfit has been picked out by her new right hand woman. Our three children, Ruby, Dustin, and Eira have been outfitted in the fanciest clothing a chief's money can buy...which isn't saying much because chiefs here on Wolfsbane, along with their families, are literally treated like royalty, and don't have to spend anything on, well, anything, unless they want to. Granted, we are treated with respect, and there aren't many enemies that Wolfsbane has to deal with – or there weren't really any when I left, besides Drago and Grimmel, and they're both long gone.
Speaking of enemies, there's been no sign of Michael or Stephen Harrison, or any of their offspring.
Good riddance. I never want to see their faces again, if I can help it, not after what they did to my wife, and to Ruby.
Loki will be sure to be in attendance at his biological daughter's chieftess ceremony, despite no one here knowing of Becky's true paternal heritage. And we want to keep it that way for the time being, until the hubbub has died down, and we're accepted as residents, despite our social status.
Ruby, the poor girl, keeps staring out her bedroom window longingly, probably thinking of her lost baby, or of Rachel, her ex.
Dustin and Eira, when they're not busy preparing for the chieftain and welcoming ceremony, busy themselves with our home library, reading about faraway lands and battles and princesses and such.
What I'd give to...yeah, never mind. Despite being an adult means barely any fun, or so they say, being a kid again means I'd be without my wife...we didn't meet until she was 18, and I was 23. Despite the age difference, we're close with each other, and our family is close.
Speaking of family, Becky and I are putting on the finishing touches on our banquet menu, when my Aunt Grace and Uncle Edward come by. Aunt Grace and Uncle Edward, being my father's sister-in-law and brother, could have become the new chieftess and chief of Wolfsbane, but, according to tradition, only the offspring can become chief or chieftess, no siblings or cousins or such can.
"Eret, my darling nephew! It's been a while."
"It's been less than a year, Aunt Grace. But how are you?"
"I'm quite well, dear. And are those my darling grand-nieces and grand-nephew? Oh, they're growing up so fast. Ruby, dear, let me have a look at you."
Ruby, reluctantly, comes over to see her Aunt Grace and Uncle Edward.
"Oh, Eret! This poor girl is not getting enough sleep. I know just the thing that will help: a good night's rest."
Ruby pushes her great-aunt's hands away from her face.
"Really, Aunt Grace, I'm fine."
Aunt Grace clucks her tongue.
"You're lying through your teeth, Ruby, dear. What seems to be the trouble? A boy, perhaps?"
I clear my throat, and Ruby takes this opportunity to scurry away.
My aunt and uncle, my aunt especially, are very, shall we say, traditional? There's this new religion that's called "Christianity", and my aunt has accepted it much faster than she'd ever accept a bisexual nephew, and a gay great-niece. Which is why, I hate to say, that I never plan on telling Aunt Grace that I'm bisexual...or that Ruby's gay...if Ruby chooses to come out (and that's the only choice she'd be making when it comes to her sexuality), it must be Ruby's decision, and hers alone.
ANYWAY...
Aunt Grace fawns over Dustin and Eira before the Nordisk family of five is whisked away to continue preparing for our ceremony later this evening.
Once the menu of chicken, beef and whole roasted pig is finalized – Becky's and my official wedding wasn't this extravagant – we're offered a break, filled with mead and ale and drinks for everyone, including the children.
Becky, having stopped drinking long ago, politely declines the alcohol. I can see Ruby sneaking a few drinks here and there, and, though she's of legal age, I can't help but worry.
I don't want my daughter to turn into an alcoholic, like my grandfather...it's one of the things that killed him. In the twenty-two years I've had to get to know my firstborn daughter, I've never known her to be like my grandfather...but, as her father, I still worry.