Legends Never Die: Expanding the Family (ch. 181) (Patreon)

Britannia was meant to be the last time I would expand the borders of my empire. Alba, Northumbria, Wessex, Wales, and Ireland -- those kingdoms would be the last additions, granting my children a chance to distinguish themselves during the conquest. While I feared they would never truly escape my shadow, the conquest would allow them to establish themselves and prove they could stand on their own two feet. 

The kingdoms that gathered on my border, while I did think they would eventually be absorbed into the empire by my successors, I had no plans to do so during my lifetime. I didn’t simply because there would be no benefit- not really. Everything was simply too new. It hadn’t even been twenty years since my empire was formed. Barely more than a decade since the kingdoms framing my border were created. 

Things needed time to settle. To set. For generations to come and go until the idea of a Polish kingdom was something that had always existed. For the tribal mentality and ancient rivalries to fade away, either because the bad blood was spilled upon the floor or because they were absorbed into the ruling powers. 

When I assumed the throne of Denmark, I had an idea of the shape of the future. Details were missing, of course. Men like Charlemagne would absolutely have a voice in my plans, though I was loath to give them one, but so were people like Siemowit. Ambitious men who saw the change coming, embraced it, and used it to their advantage. 

Poland was in an interesting position. It did not sit directly against the Roman border, but it did against the kingdoms of Bohemia and Moravia, which were firmly under Charlemagne’s thumb despite my continued efforts to change that. Their eastern border was dominated by the White Rus, a larger kingdom but not a strong one. While their south was marked by the Bulgarian border. 

Meaning it wasn’t… exposed in a way that worried me. Krum continued to rule Bulgaria. He lost some territory, but his borders were marked by the Danube River and mountains. He was firmly an independent king, something he made abundantly clear with various diplomatic overtures over the years, but we were allies for reasons beyond having a common enemy. 

Poland had strong borders similarly marked by rivers and mountain ranges. It had a few notable settlements. Our influence within the kingdom was quite strong -- while I hadn’t outright forged the crown, the kingdom itself was ‘inspired’ by how the kingdoms within my empire were ruled. It benefited from migrations toward my empire; trade flowed freely through it, and many would-be migrants decided Poland was good enough and chose to put down roots there. 

It had a population of around five hundred thousand, though that figure might be out of date with their rapid conquest. It had plentiful resources, even if they didn’t bring anything new to the table. As far as kingdoms to incorporate among the Friends of the Allvaldr, it wasn’t a bad choice. I’d even call it a good one. It wasn’t exposed; it was strong, and it was well defended. 

What made it of particular interest was the timing and the politics. The power blocs were forming ahead of schedule. Haldur was establishing one around Sweden. King Rurik was forming one around Novograd. Meanwhile, I was establishing my own around Denmark, which Poland would absolutely be a factor of. 

Allowing Poland to formally join the empire would add a new factor at play for the broader schemes of the various players. Especially one that was bound to my family by marriage. 

Alternatively, refusing would have consequences. King Siemowit thought highly of himself. He was clever and ambitious. If I refused him, he would take great offense. Not enough to run into the open arms of Charlemagne -- that would be a death sentence for Poland, and Siemowit seemed smart enough to recognize that. After all, his kingdom sat on my border, surrounded by nominal allies to my empire. 

Failing that, it would be simple to undo whatever progress Siemowit had achieved. His conquest was still recent, so a well funded rebellion or two would divide Poland once more. A well placed blade would see his realm fracture before he had a chance to consolidate. Still, short of murdering him, it would put a potential ally of Charlemagne on my border. 

There was an opportunity with Poland. It was a worthwhile consideration. However, one that came with a price tag. 

“Siemowit is too old. He's had his sons, though most of them are dead,” Thorkell began, seated nearby as he kept an eye on his son playing with mine in the gardens. Which mostly consisted of beating each other with sticks -- some things just didn’t change. “While I’m sure he’d be happy to accept one of your daughters as a bride, he’d accept a marriage between one of your daughters to his surviving heir.”

I let out a small hum. “Marcin,” I ventured, recalling the name. I paid close attention to Poland’s conquest, curious as to see the extent of their goals, so I heard of the young man of around seventeen years of age. “He won the battles in his father’s name.”

“Smart lad. Big fan of yours,” Thorkell added, tipping his head to me as if that was a selling point. It was, admittedly. “He mentioned to me during my stay that he wants to attend the university you're so proud of. Honestly, ‘s far as the kid is concerned, the sun rises and sets on your shoulders.”

My lips thinned a tad. “Religious?”

“Honestly, I think he’d think less of you if you were a god.” That was promising. “You’re more of an extreme example of what a man is capable of.” That was something. If anything, it drastically made the marriage prospect… possible. To my children, I wasn’t a god. I was barely the Allvalr. I was just their father. Scáthach and Aífe in particular took a scathing view of anyone who would declare me a god, mostly because they knew I didn’t consider myself one. 

“It’s not a bad match,” I admitted. That was the core of it. My empire would grow stronger, I would gain another worthwhile ally, and it would shift the power blocs decisively within my favor. It wouldn’t matter what Haldur or the others did. Even if they decided to split the empire in two upon my eventual death -- between Denmark, Norway, Saxony, Pomerania, and Poland? That power bloc would dominate the others for generations. 

“Think you’re going to accept it?” Thorkell asked, never shying away from the hard questions. 

The Allvaldr in me said yes. The Fahter… “Not without consulting my daughters, first,” I admitted. “I see no reason to refuse Prince Marcin’s desire to attend the university. If anything, I encourage it. As my daughters will be here… I’ll let them take the measure of him.” 

It wouldn’t be the answer Siemowit wanted, but even if I were to accept the marriage outright, there would be a process to incorporating the kingdom into my empire. One that lasted a few years -- it wouldn’t be as simple as bending the knee and presenting the crown. Poland would need to accept our laws, customs, our weights and measurements, and more. The process would be lengthy enough for Marcin’s attendance at my university. 

Thorkell snorted, “Good luck with that.” That earned a tired glare, which he just laughed at. “Least you’ll have an easier time with your boys. Handsome lads. Don’t seem to have much going upstairs, ‘cept for your youngest,” he added. 

By that, he meant Hakon was getting irritated with his brothers playing near them and he was attempting to beat some sense into them with a book about the size of him. It probably weighed as much too. Which, of course, delighted Radahn and Bjorn because they thought he was playing with them. 

A small sigh escaped me, which prompted a tilt of the head from Thorkell. Then a knowing glimmer entered his eyes. “Ah. Too tough of a time choosing your heir?”

“More like my eldest sons are exiling themselves to Britannia. Radahn would rather bite off his tongue than become Alvaldr. Bjorn might take up the title eventually, but he doesn’t have much interest now. And Hakon…” I trailed off, watching him gut check Bjorn and making Radahn laugh so hard he doubled over. “He’s so young.”

All of my children had immense potential, but Hakon… Hakon was a genius. A true, genuine genius that left me in awe at times. He learned to speak in full sentences by a year old, even before he was able to walk. Alexios described him as a sponge that just absorbed everything he tried to teach. But he was still so young. Three years old. 

There was no promise of tomorrow. For all my plans decades in the making, I could simply drop dead from an arrow or poison or Thor could grow annoyed with me and strike me down with lightning. It would be twelve years before Hakon could call himself a man. Another decade before he would be ready to rule. 

If I perished in the wars to come, leaving behind a young heir, my empire would shatter like glass. 

“Children change their minds as they grow up. It's practically all they do. I wouldn't be so quick to count them out,” Thorkell advised. I inclined my head to him, accepting the advice. “When are you going to speak to your girls?” 

“Better sooner than later,” I reasoned. Scáthach and Aífe both wanted to attend the university because they wanted a measure of independence. The plan to take the measure of Marcin would be an unwelcome factor for them both. 

Thorkell held up a cup of mead. “I'll keep an eye on your little ones. And I'll pass the crown to one of them if you don't make it back. Morrigan is the scariest and fiercest of your wives, and they're every bit their mother's daughters.” 

“Ha. Careful now. Morrigan still gets cross with people calling her my wife.” I retorted, silently admitting he was more right than wrong. 

Thorkell's lips twisted into a smirk, “But she doesn't protest so much when people call you her husband.” I just shook my head, though a small grin tugged at my lips as I left the room behind with a wave over my shoulder. 

There was little hope for privacy as an attendant fell in step behind me, along with a dozen guards. I paid them no mind with practiced ease, focusing more on how to navigate the conversation with my daughters. Ragnar had pursued a bride on his own accord, even if she wasn't the bride I would have chosen for him. Magnus was betrothed to Thusnelda, with his marriage scheduled to take place in another year. Both of them readily accepted their matches. 

I did not expect that to be the case for my eldest daughters. Honestly, there was a… considerable chance they really might just kill the boy to rid themselves of him. And I knew Morrigan would approve wholeheartedly. 

I found myself taking a winding path to the lecture halls, where I knew them to be. Distracting myself by exploring the campus in greater detail than the curated tour. It was difficult for me to not take a measure of pride in what I saw -- the university was a place of learning, first and foremost. In Constantinople, the university served as a field ground for nobles rather than scholars. 

Here, people learned about the natural world. They learned how to tame it. They became artists, or innovators, or they learned a trade. Knowledge was gathered, debated, expanded upon, then added to the library. All the while I took steps to prevent what happened to the Library of Alexandria or what was happening to the libraries in Constantinople. Parchment decayed. It rotted and crumbled apart, even if it might take a century or even two or three. 

Which was why clay tablets were being etched, dried, and stored across the island. It wasn't a perfect solution. It might not even be a good one, but it gave the university a means to keep the knowledge instead of being forced to choose what was saved. 

It wasn't an opinion that many shared with me. Thus far, only Alexios did, but I considered the university to be the second most important place within my empire. 

It, however, offered only a short-lived distraction as my feet carried me to where my daughters were located. Unsurprisingly, I found them in the middle of another spar in a quite corner of the campus, save for the near rhythmic sound of their clashes and grunts. When I rounded the corner, I saw both of them were going at it with their spears, unleashing a flurry of blows as they seamlessly transitioned from offense to defense to offense once more. 

Scáthach noticed me first, tilting her head ever so slightly. An opening, I knew. Aífe knew it too, but she still acted on it. It was a reflex. Or perhaps desperation. The result was the same because her sister dipped low, lashing out with the butt of her spear to sweep Aífe’s legs from underneath her. Aífe recovered without missing a beat, but that recovery decided the match as it ended with Scáthach’s spear pointed to her neck. 

Something flashed in Aífe’s eyes. A dark jealousy that I could only sigh at. “Enough,” I announced myself, preventing the fight to continuing. “Enough. There is something I need to speak to you both about. In private,” I added, speaking to my guards. They dipped their heads to secure the surroundings, making sure we wouldn’t be overheard. 

Scáthach snorted, twirling her spear between her fingers. “I recognize that tone. I take it you’ve found husbands to saddle on us. Told you there was a reason he wanted us to come without Mother in earshot,” she remarked to Aífe. 

“Not husbands. Husband. Potentially,” I corrected, and at Aífe’s arched brow, I realized how that sounded. “A Prince of Poland may be attending the university during your stay here. The King of Poland is willing to bend the knee in exchange for one of your hands in marriage.”

“Ahh,” Aífe realized, leaning on her spear. She was struggling to keep her breathing even, unlike Scáthach, who seemed relaxed. Something I knew drove her mad. She hated it, but she was also used to it. Which, I felt, might be worse. “You didn’t deny the accusation that this is happening outside of mother’s hearing.”

I laughed softly. “You two underestimate your mother. Severely,” I pointed out, my gaze shifting to the ravens perched on a balcony, on branches of a tree, or simply loitering on the ground. They were a frequent sight, and I was certain at least one of them had Morrigan’s gaze lurking behind their eyes. “Nor was it planned. It’s simply an opportunity.”

“An ‘opportunity’ you want us to ‘consider.’” Scáthach didn’t bother to hide her skepticism. “And if we don’t find this boy worth our time?” 

A sigh escaped me before I sat heavily on a nearby bench. “In that case, I imagine your mother arranges his assassination,” I admitted, earning a ghost of a smile from the girls before they wiped it away, annoyed they found the remark funny. Or me. “But, until then, you are princesses of the empire. You have duties. Responsibilities. I wish it weren’t so sometimes, but you are no longer children.”

“Instead, we are pawns to be traded?” Aífe retorted with an arched brow. 

I leveled a stern look in her direction. “No more than your brothers are.” She scowled at that, largely because she understood the message -- yes, they were. I would do everything within my power to ensure they would be happy with their spouses, even if it did come at a political cost. “If you wish for a different husband, then find one that has merit. Until then, Prince Marcin is a likely match.” 

“Not for free,” Aífe said, thrusting out her chin defiantly. My eyes narrowed a fraction at that, but she remained defiant. “I’ll renounce my name before I suffer a fool or a lout. Mother saw to it that we’d succeed, princesses or not. So, if you want me to even consider this… then I want what you gave Ragnar and Magnus.”

I felt a headache coming. For several reasons. “That,” I began, pinching my brow, “Was meant to be a secret.”

“They didn’t speak of it,” Scáthach assured me. “We figured it out.”

“It did become rather obvious when Ragnar avoided us in the yard,” Aífe said, quite proud of herself. “And when we did corner him, he threw the match. Rather unconvincingly.” 

I suppose that was better than either Magnus or Ragnar breaking a vow of secrecy. Still, it wasn’t good. I looked between my daughters, feeling uncertainty brew in my stomach like a storm. “And who told you that I could grant Blessings?”

Their answer came at the same time: ““Mother.””

Another sigh escaped me, this conversation taking a direction I was entirely unprepared for. Something that Scáthach noticed with an offended scoff. “Are we so unworthy, father?” She demanded sharply with a touch of hurt in her voice. 

“It is not that you are unworthy, Scáthach. Or you, Aífe,” I was quick to reassure them both, standing up and walking towards them. “You are. You have been, both of you. I bestowed Blessings upon your brother before they were ready because of the situation. I’ve restrained myself with you two… because I cannot choose what Blessings you receive.”

I reached out, placing hands on their shoulders. There was a dawning comprehension on their faces at the same exact time. The twins glanced at one another, realizing why I would hesitate. The gap between them could be closed. Or it could be widened. Or the gap could be switched, with Scáthach chasing her sister’s shadow. 

Unsurprisingly, Scáthach was confident. “I’ll take that risk,” she decided with nary a thought. Because she simply couldn’t imagine ever losing to her sister. 

Aífe considered it longer. Her expression tightened, really giving it the due consideration that the decision needed. However, once that moment passed, she offered the barest of nods. 

I looked between them, looking for a sign of doubt or apprehension, but they were both resolute. When I looked beyond them, I turned my gaze to a raven who watched us from overhead. Morrigan offered the barest of nods through the bird, meaning she respected their decision. Even if they might regret it. 

“Very well then,” I said before the Prestige I gathered over years began to flow into them. The Blessings took shape, and when they arrived, I couldn’t help but find them… fitting. 

Learning: Know Thy Self

Stats and progression meters will be revealed to User, allowing the user to accurately measure their progress in skills, abilities, and talents. 

Diplomacy: Binding Vow

The User can make a binding vow with him or herself, allowing them to gain the ability to do something they otherwise couldn’t by sacrificing something they already can. Binding Vows can be nullified, but only if what was gained can be returned. 

Both of them were interesting. I had never seen either before. It was quite the surprise that neither of them received a Martial Blessing, but it just made it clear, I really didn’t know how this ability functioned. 

Just as I had to hope I hadn’t made a terrible mistake because my daughters looked inward at their new abilities, then at each other with a triumphant look, thinking they got the better Blessing. 

I suppose only time would tell.