Page 2 of Rathgar

Lara takes my hand and squeezes it. “You’ll be fine, sis. I promise. I mean, look how I turned out.” She bounces Ray on her lap; Soren wraps a possessive arm around her waist. For a moment, my heart lurches. I could have had that.

I should have had that.

But it’s fine. Really. I’m here now, with my sister and my daughter, and I have everything I could ask for. It’s enough. Really. It’s enough.

Until I crawl into an empty bed at night.

As I stare into my drink, I glance over at the sound of hoofbeats. The raiders are returning from their patrols, mounted upon huge beasts native to this planet. Their horns are longer and taller than my whole body, and the men astride them are even bigger still.

That’s one thing about living on an alien planet: everything is so…big.

I’ve never been a tall woman, but being around the Aesir alphas makes me feel utterly tiny. They tower over us with their broad shoulders and bulging muscles. At least I know that if anything tries to attack, we’ll be well protected.

I turn back to my drink and a spike of fear shoots up my throat. My little girl — my Iris — is gone.

Whirling around, I curse myself for taking my eyes off of her. I’d been too caught up in my own thoughts to notice. Where had she run off to?

And that’s when I hear her signature laugh. She’s toddling with joy straight toward the approaching raiders. They’re disheveled, dirty, and caked with blood and dirt. That doesn’t seem to stop her. With all the joyful innocence of a child, she stretches out her little arms and grabs on to the pant leg of the meanest, grumpiest looking warlord that I’ve ever seen.

Rathgar. Even the name scares me. He’s one of the biggest of them all, always wearing a sour scowl that makes my skin crawl. Many of Soren’s people have accepted us readily, but he always seems to look down his nose at me. Makes me feel unwanted. Small. Insignificant.

And now my little girl’s tugging on his pant leg.

Ah, nuts. Happy birthday to me, I guess. I take a breath before walking towards them.

IRIS PLAYING

RATHGAR

I’ll never understand the importance Earthlings place on birthdays. It’s utterly foreign to me. Why celebrate the day of one’s birth? It’s the same as any other. We all age regardless. But — I’ve learned since Soren took on a human bride — they have celebrations and ‘parties’, as they call them, for all kinds of things.

Perhaps to give their pitifully short lifetimes meaning.

I’ve certainly stopped counting mine. It matters not, only that I’m in the prime of my life as a warrior for our planet. As Soren’s second-in-command, I take care of the dirty work he doesn’t want to, and that’s fine with me. I have no desire to lead. He does a good enough job of that himself. For the most part, my status allows me to do whatever I want. Not many people can boss me around, and that suits me just fine.

Soren keeps going on about his human mate and the surrogacy agency our planet partnered with. Sure, it worked for him, but there’s no guarantee lightning might strike twice, is there? I’ve never thought much about having a child, to be honest, but Soren says it will be good for the clan. It will set an example for others to follow. And who am I to reject my commander’s wishes?

The last thing I want to do when returning from a raid, bloodied but successful, is to attend one of these human celebrations. It’s a favor to my commander, nothing more.

At least, until I feel a small hand tugging at the hem of my pants. I look down, my blood high and still ready to strike, and see the smallest little thing.

A tiny human looks up at me, blissfully ignorant of how dangerous I am. How many lives I’ve taken. In fact, she looks almost…happy? Small fingers tug at my leg and reach up toward me like she’s expecting something. Her soft mouth opens and the strangest, high pitched sound comes out. Laughter? At me?

It’s all kinds of confusing. What is she doing here? Where is her mother? No Aesir parent worth their salt would leave a little one unattended. Is this something else the Earthlings do differently? No sooner do I think that than I hear panicked footsteps. A woman rushes toward me and swoops the tiny human away before muttering stammered apologies.

She doesn’t meet my eyes, all bowed posture, dark hair, and soft skin. She’s the first human I’ve met besides Soren’s mate Lara. Wasn’t this one supposed to be her younger sister or something? I can see the resemblance now that I look a bit closer. They both hold a certain sort of beauty, I’ll admit. Different than the Aesir women, to be sure, but enthralling in their own way. I can see why Soren fell for his woman, but his utter near-addiction to her doesn’t make any sense.

Maybe it’s due to that omega thing Soren told us about. As the ruling warlords of Aesirheim, we underwent genetic modifications in order to boost our strength and power. They called us ‘alphas’. It allowed us to finally take back our homeland, but it unfortunately affected our ability to produce offspring.

The Intergalactic Surrogacy Agency matches people like us with volunteers called ‘omegas’ and ensures a healthy pregnancy. To someone like Soren it mattered a great deal — the high warlord needed to produce heirs and keep his line strong.

As for me? I didn’t think about it too much.

But as I look upon this small human and her child, I can’t deny there’s something intriguing about her. She carries a faint floral scent, too soft and feminine for the hard landscapes of Aesirheim. It’s utterly unfamiliar, and yet…my heart stutters a bit in my chest. My mouth dries. I want to know more, and that scares me.

“—so sorry, it won’t happen again, I’ll get out of your hair—“

Her words catch up to me, soft and pleading. I scowl — why does she still not meet my gaze? Does she not know it’s common respect? Does she not care?

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