Private Tough Reunions

[Brynjar Threist]

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Staying in the North had been an ordeal for Brynjar, things were moving faster than he thought they would but also, he felt concerned about his friends and the direction it seemed to be heading. War with the humans. Did he still believe in war with them? They continually murder and slaughter their people but at the same time, even with the Northern Lupo finally deciding to join the battle, were their numbers enough? The humans were centuries embedded in their power, who knew if their claws reached out to the wider galaxy and the influences they held out there. The human army on Islimore was large enough, what happens to the Lupo if the humans revealed that they have twice the number they thought, even more than that because they pulled in friends, families, soldiers from the wider galaxy. Bringing the technology that the wider galaxy holds. They used axes, swords, leather armour if they wore armour. How could they cope against weapons like blasters, Lightsabers or anything else the galactic powers created for war.


These fears kept Brynjar up at night. He held one weapon, one weapon of two that he knew could work against some of the threats that they would face. He did know how to create more but it was a skill that was something he had found difficult and was unsure how others might see it or wish to use it. There was a lot of turmoil in his mind when he attempted to sleep.


Rising from his roughly made bed, Brynjar sighed. Sleep was not coming tonight, he was too wired awake and the dawn was not far from rising. He wiped the sweat formed on his brow from the night terrors that had been plaguing him. Constant visions of death, pain, loss and the inevitability of losing all of those that he loved. Dressing in basic hide clothing, Brynjar stepped out and wandered around the camp. Checking that everyone was safe, warm and recovering. It was going to take time for people to recover, not just physically but mentally from the ordeal that they had suffered from. The journey had been hard in many ways and Brynjar feared that normal lives for them would never be possible. That they were just stuck in a cycle. A cycle he knew he was stuck in himself to some degree.


It seemed to be a quiet night as Brynjar wandered slightly aimless. Things were shifting, Aelin was talking and working with the new Northern Alpha, going off with Gerwald for supplies. The Drage Clan were making their presence on Islimore clearer. He wasn't even sure what happened to the desert wolves that once visited the group. Sighing, watching the hot breath turn to smoke and float away, Brynjar thought about whether living on Islimore was the best for their people. If the situation was dire, if peace was truly not negotiable then surely they would be better off leaving, finding somewhere else to live?


As these thoughts, feelings, swirled in his mind a single, loud voice screamed in his mind. That this was their world, that they had to fight to survive, that they always fought to survive and to surrender, to flee, it was telling the Fayth they had won. That the Fayth were right. It was ancestral, it was deep pain inside him that burned into anger. It was clear that he could never leave now he was here, that he would die to ensure that the home of these people was given back to them.


"Gods do not want me to live an easy, simple, happy life it seems." Brynjar sighed into the night air. Before looking to see if he could find his friend, Declan. He had held off too long to talk with Declan. Walking towards the Northern homes and the halls. He strided with purpose and searched around. Unsure if his friend would be up this late, but hopeful to share a drink or two.

Declan Durinson

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[Declan Durinson]

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Hardhaven’s winter town had long been a haven to the Zathori land workers, farmers, miners, lumberers, and fisherfolk when the harsh snows fell and icy blasts of wind came seeking to freeze Wolves and pups in their dens. The snows had yet to fall in deadly earnest but the winter town was now alive with wolves fleeing the human attack on their camp to the south. The Wolves were making the town home until their wounded were healed and their weary were rested.

Two figures walked through the cobbled streets of the winter town in the early pre-dawn hours. They swayed and staggered as they held one another, one carried the other and if either arm of either man should leave the other’s shoulder there was little doubt they would go crashing to the ground in a display of drunkenness.

One of the men was dressed in a fine green wool tunic, with heavy white furs draped about his thick shoulders. He was Declan, son of Durin of Clan Kanaka and it was his family to which the castle that housed this winter town belonged. Tall and broad with a thick tangle of black hair that fell in his face with every step, Declan was the eldest living male of Clan Kanaka and quite presently drunk as a skunk.

He and his companion walked at a pace slow enough to stay steady and slow enough to be outpaced by a snail were any available. They jested and laughed in overly loud voices even though it were nearly dawn and most of the town was fast asleep. They were drawing nearer to their intended destination, the high hall of Hardhaven and the castle’s keep where Declan laid his head. He did not want sleep though. he wanted a song so, in a low voice that many found quite pleasant, he began to sing a bawdy song he had learned as a boy.

“Dearest Vanya crowned in gold

open your gates so I may cure you of the cold

Bold as I might and bold as I may

I would make you warm with one good…Brynjar!”

Declan cut his song short at the site of his friend and called out to him. “You have the look of a Wolf on a hunt, pray we are not distracting you from some great purpose.” Declan greeted cheerily and more than half drunk.

“This is Brynjar, Alpha of Clan Threist,” Declan told the man with whom he had been walking.

“Truly?” Declan’s companion said excitedly “The Brynjar? The one who reforged Medelwr? Glwyn’s legacy?” The man was dressed simply in a grey wool tunic devoid of embroidery. He stood a few inches shorter than Declan and much smaller than Brynjar. He was thin as a spear and looked hard as stone with soft grey eyes filled with awe as he looked upon Brynjar.

“Brynjar, this is my…how does it go again?” Declan asked the man in grey.

“My father is your mother’s uncle, cousin.”

“Aye, this is my cousin Vali. He is Vataeos and so desires to see a saga writ in all we do.” Declan said. He did not make mock of his cousin. no, quite the opposite, Declan quite enjoyed his company.

“I looked for you before we left to save Durin,” Declan told Brynjar. “And again after Hljóðleva fell. Share a drink with me. I would hear of your travels, bróðir, and share mine with you as well.”

He laid a hand on Brynjar’s arm. One did not need to have the nose of a Wolf to smell on Declan the scent of spice smoke and Corellian brandy nor did one need the ears of a Wolf to hear his sincerity. Brynjar was now as much a brother to him as any that held Durin’s blood in their veins.

“Would you join us, Vali?” Declan asked.

“No, I have drank quite enough already. I dread how I will feel on the morrow. I shall pray to all our gods that Hardhaven host another funeral,” Vali answered.

“And if you should be so fortunate to not survive the night, what pray do you want done with your body?” Declan asked, playing along.

“Bury me as deep in the yronwoods as possible. one last gesture to spite my father.”

“It will be done, cousin.”

“Well met Brynjar,” Vali said. “I would someday greatly enjoy sitting down and taking record of your time south when I am not so near to death by hangover. Please, see that my cousin finds some sleep. He seems to think he can go without. Farewell to you both.” Vali gave them a wave and headed down a path toward his home in the winter town.

Declan bid Brynjar follow and led him on the very route that Declan stumbled over near every night through the castle’s keep until they reached his chambers. Declan swung the doors open and within minutes had a fire blazing in his solar. He produced a bottle of Corellian brandy and two glasses. He filled them halfway and handed one to Brynjar.

“Sit anywhere.” He told his friend. “That’s damn fine Corellian hooch as well. Cost more than I’d care to admit.”

Corellian brandy was obviously not a local product to Islimore but the city at the foot of the mountain had quite a large port on the bay and that meant smugglers and smugglers meant things you would not ordinarily find.

“How are you, bróðir?”

Brynjar Threist

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[Brynjar Threist]

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Hearing Declan's voice call out to him as he noticed two drunks stumbling down the road had Brynjar shaking his head. Seemed that Declan was enjoying another night filled with drinking, hopefully in celebration of the good memories he held of his brother. For Brynjar, it was always mourn the loss yes, but attempt to focus on the celebration of life, to enjoy the positives and happier moments you shared. To dwell on the negatives was for some more important but Brynjar could never last long in wallow, it led to madness in his own mind. Never helping matters. Whatever the case for Declan might be, Brynjar knew he would help his friend celebrate the life of his brother. Even if he did not know the man well, and did not truly understand loss of family well, Brynjar knew how to support someone.

"Aye, that is me. This is the axe as well." Medelwr was half the axe but still looked impressive, strong, sharp and elegant. Heddwch was its twin, entrusted to Aelin to use as she saw fit. "I shall regale you with the details another night. It is why I look more pink than pale now." Brynjar chuckled, still a little burnt from the desert sun but no longer as pained to touch as he once was. A healer stated it would take a few more weeks for the pink to return to his normal colouring and that he should be more wary of desert sun. Easier said than done was all he could think. Shifting the carrying duties of Declan from his cousin onto himself, Brynjar nodded his goodbyes to the man as he allowed Declan to guide them to the next stop.

The smells of spice and rum did not bother Brynjar, it was a sign of a good night and indulging in pleasures such as these were sometimes needed. There were many times that he thought his journey into the desert was more drug induced with a case of heatstroke over reality. But in the end it didn't matter since he was still able to achieve his end goals. Arriving at the hall, Brynjar smirked as he admired the marksmanship of such a construction. "Definitely a nicer build here than my own hall is looking. Clearly should not be doing the carpeting myself." Brynjar joked, giving a little insight into what Brynjar had been getting up to since their last meeting.

Taking both glasses of rum, Brynjar downed them both one after the other, "very fine indeed, should help with catching up a little to where you are." He laughed deeply, a teasing smirk etched on his face. A look that would be unfamiliar or thought surprising from the usually stoic and bloodthirsty man that he had started out as among their group of friends. "Has been too long since we last gathered and enjoyed each other's company. I am sorry I was not there to help find your brother. I would have been there but I got quite lost in the desert finding a way to restore Medelwr to its glory." Brynjar explained with deep remorse and guilt in his tone for not being there when Declan needed him.

"For now, I have been well. Finding out what truly means to be Alpha of Clan Threist. What it means to be Threist. It is not easy path, but one I am taking. How are you doing more importantly?" Brynjar leaned forward, there was concern on his face for his brother, a lot had happened in a short time and it was natural to be struggling.

Declan Durinson

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[Declan Durinson]

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"very fine indeed, should help with catching up a little to where you are." Brynjar said laughing deeply, a teasing smirk etched on his face after snatching up and knocking back both glasses.

Declan laughed along with him. “A damn good start to be sure!” He said filling the glasses once more, this time keeping one for himself. “You seem different, brother. Did your time away truly have such an effect on you?” Declan asked with admiration for the seemingly new Brynjar. Declan had not known him to be so quick to laugh and joke in the past or be so eager to take in the company of others, except maybe Aelin.

It seemed to Declan that his friend were…lighter somehow or perhaps he carried a new burden, one of his own choosing. Sometimes that could make even the heaviest of weights easier to bear.

"Has been too long since we last gathered and enjoyed each other's company. I am sorry I was not there to help find your brother. I would have been there but I got quite lost in the desert finding a way to restore Medelwr to its glory." Brynjar explained with deep remorse and guilt in his tone for not being there when Declan needed him.

“Do not trouble yourself.” Declan said with a wave of his hand as he took a drink from his glass. “I would have gladly taken your help but there was nothing to be done for Durin. He was dead already.” Declan said, trying not to think of the moment he had plunged his blade into Durin’s heart. “I was glad to see you at his funeral though. Your kindness meant much.”

"For now, I have been well. Finding out what truly means to be Alpha of Clan Threist. What it means to be Threist. It is not easy path, but one I am taking. How are you doing more importantly?" Brynjar leaned forward, there was concern on his face.

Declan attempted to ease that concern.

“I told you once Brynjar, you are a worthy Alpha and my mind has never changed on that. If it were not for you, I may not be here, I would be dead from the drengir or still trapped in my own mind. It gladdens my heart to hear you are well.” Declan filled his glass again and Brynjar’s

How are you doing?

“I am grateful. To you especially, to have you remain in my home and ease the transition for the pack from the ruin and I am grateful that you remain close to Aelin Erevos . She needs friends around her.”

“Now tell me, what did you find out in the desert besides an axe and far too much sun?”

Brynjar Threist

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[Brynjar Threist]

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Brynjar shrugged slightly when Declan asked if his travels truly did have such a large effect on him. It was true that he went to the desert hunting a way to restore Medelwr, still talking as an Alpha seeking to be Anasi, looking down at everyone who disagreed with him or assumed incorrectly of him. It was not the same man that returned, he no longer wanted Anasi, he knew better, he sought for better for their people. He never wanted to look down at others, it was the toxic traits instilled by his parents that pushed that attitude, though he did know many assumed incorrectly of who he was. That was in part on them for only seeing the surface level of him, but it was also on him for only sharing part of who he was. He never wanted the life that his parents still insisted that he fought for. He was not the last Kaiha, he was not the great Anasi that they thought he was. He was an Alpha and he was rebuilding his clan, slowly, through accepting others and demonstrating the strength of himself but also of the Lupo resolve.

"Madness is a hard thing to witness. I have been fortunate none that were my family succumbed to it but hopefully you will reunite with your brother, regale him with the tales of slaughtering those that killed him." Brynjar stated in hopeful and caring tone with a solemnness to it. Taking a drink, "to those the Fayth have stolen from us." Thinking on the many that had died during the camp's attack, the many that froze on the way here. People he had cared for, worked hard to supply them with means to thrive and strengthen, to see them dead either by the Fayth or by the harsh journey the Fayth forced them to take. "Funerals have been a frequent thing as of late. And if the plans for war go ahead, there are sure to be more that we will have to attend." Taking another drink to wash away the sorrowful talk.

It was clear that Declan was avoiding his question, shifting from what had been asked to talk about remaining close to Aelin, helping to ease the transition and then asking about Brynjar's adventures. Previously, Brynjar would have pushed the matter, forced the discussion in the path he wanted, however he knew better now. You cannot force people to accept help or talk about their pain, just let them know that they have somewhere to go if they change their mind. He thought, reflecting on what he had been told by others when helping the clans of the South settle into the North. "Aelin would be fine without me, it is you that she truly wants by her side. Especially since my feelings for her tend to bias my judgements." Taking a large gulp of the drink as he sighed. Some days he wished that Aelin would look at him for help, comfort or affection and then others, he realised that she was meant for greater and he would never be able to compete with the other Alphas in providing the support to achieve that greatness.

"What I found was simple in words. Clarity. My family's history had been muddled, fact and fiction had merged and there was a lot that I did not know nor did I understand my purpose in life. I found Medelwr, I found Glwyn's grave in the deserts and I found the scrolls needed to repair Medelwr. I forged Heddwch at the same time since I prefer one handed axes over the cumbersome two handed ones." Brynjar chuckled, "but now I have a clearer understanding of what Glwyn wanted, what his purpose was in founding Clan Threist. We were not leaders, we were guardians, protectors of peace and builders. Medelwr is a weapon for sure, but it is also meant to chop wood for fire, aid in constructing housing, kill and butcher meat for provisions. To highlight maintaining peace is just as hard as fighting wars." Brynjar spoke with wisdom stemming from words much older than them, it was words Glwyn shared with the Gods when he sought out help.

Leaning back into the chair, "I am Alpha of my clan. That is all I need to be. I just need to grow it now. Was close to finishing the halls not far from the camp before the attack. Perhaps something to return to once the war is over." Brynjar shrugged, still unsure if he would see the end of this fight.

Declan Durinson

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[Declan Durinson]

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"Madness is a hard thing to witness. I have been fortunate none that were my family succumbed to it but hopefully you will reunite with your brother, regale him with the tales of slaughtering those that killed him." Brynjar stated in hopeful and caring tone with a solemnness to it. Taking a drink, "to those the Fayth have stolen from us."

It was I who killed him. Declan thought.

A look crossed his brother’s face when Declan slipped his blade between his brother’s ribs and deep into his heart. Declan told himself it was a look of peace.

“To them.” Declan agreed, taking another drink.

"Funerals have been a frequent thing as of late. And if the plans for war go ahead, there are sure to be more that we will have to attend." Brynjar said, taking another drink. Declan filled his glass again.

“Aye, that is true,” Declan said “but better to die axe in hand than…”

At your brother’s hand while chained and muzzled

“...from the cold.”


"Aelin would be fine without me, it is you that she truly wants by her side. Especially since my feelings for her tend to bias my judgements." Brynjar told him.

Declan barked a laugh “Feth that.” Declan said rather seriously.

“Someone needs be biased for Aelin Erevos . She has more than enough Wolves in her ear telling her, the sensible thing or what would be most politically savvy.”

Declan thought of Freya Drage and a strange feeling he did not recognize swelled in him.

“She needs someone who will fight for her, bróðir, someone who loves her and she certainly doesn’t need me. She will get her fill of Durin’s sons before her stay here is over I would wager.”

When they sat down together Declan’s bottle of brandy had been two-thirds full. It now sat three-quarters gone.

Declan listened to Brynjar talk of his time in the desert. Vali would want to kick himself for missing this. Declan could not help but be impressed with Brynjar for not only taking on the trials of the sands and surviving but coming back changed. For finding an understanding of his place on this world and striving to fulfill it, it was admirable.

“I would be glad to help you finish building that hall, bróðir.”

Brynjar Threist

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[Brynjar Threist]

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Shaking his head, "Gerwald is biased for her and she has always held his counsel highly, Børre is another she holds in high esteem for advice as well as her personal assistant in Anders. I am just a Lupo who gifted her an axe and trained her how to use it. A guard and that is all she needs from me." Brynjar admitted, there was a tone of sorrow in his voice but also one of acceptance in his position. "She needs you because you are her brother, and she misses you but the choice of whether you reconnect is yours. I do not know why you parted ways and will not force you to talk to her."


Brynjar reassured that he wasn't here just to persuade Declan that he needed to reconnect to Aelin. "I did hear that the Twins got up to a lot of trouble, and the new Alpha will likely have a lot to discuss with her." Brynjar nodded his head, "but enough chat there. How has returning home been for you? Being around your brothers again must be nice?" Brynjar had been a single child so had no idea how those with siblings felt but Aelin and Miera were working hard to be close once again and he was sure the Durinsson brothers were the same.


He was glad that his retelling of his adventures in the desert to Declan, that Declan was interested and not disappointed or bored by his story. Brynjar was never known for storytelling or conjuring great powerful tales, he was simple and tended to be very much to the point. So, there was a relief in the deep interest of Declan in his tale. He poured himself another drink, to alleviate the dryness in his mouth.


"I appreciate the offer brother, but the construction of the hall has to be a Clan Threist effort. The home of where we started, only a Threist can build that, or restore it. However, I would be more than thrilled to have you visit and enjoy a drink once it is finished." Brynjar smiled warmly.

Declan Durinson

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[Declan Durinson]

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Brynjar shook his head, "Gerwald is biased for her and she has always held his counsel highly, Børre is another she holds in high esteem for advice as well as her personal assistant in Anders. I am just a Lupo who gifted her an axe and trained her how to use it. A guard and that is all she needs from me." Brynjar admitted, a little glumly.

“Enough of that.” Declan nearly snapped, though he managed to keep his tone warm enough.

“Gerwald is gone and he is a good man and a good friend, Gerwald was biased toward his own beliefs and those were not ours. Børre is one voice, yes but one is not enough and it is clear he cares for Aelin, it was clan Drage that pushed for gather of the clans, it was on their land on Bellassa that we first met do not forget and Anders is a servant. You are Alpha of Clan Threist, your blood goes back to the time of Thorir, the same as mine and the same as hers. You may act as her guard but that does not make you less. Your council is valuable and your support means even more. The North is strong but the packs as a whole have been hurt and scattered for centuries, Wolves like you will make all the difference do no doubt it, and do not place yourself below the others. Not in this and not when it comes to Aelin.”

"She needs you because you are her brother, and she misses you but the choice of whether you reconnect is yours. I do not know why you parted ways and will not force you to talk to her." Brynjar told him.

You are her brother.

Declan thought of Durin. He thought of Bec’irah. Having Declan for a brother was no great thing.

“We did not part. She is in this castle same as I am.” Declan said not bothering to contain the lie of it. The truth was they had parted. The moment they had rescued Miera his oath had been fulfilled. she’d no longer had use for him. When they came to Islimore things had moved so fast. Reconstruction on the ruin consumed everyone, Declan had been drawn North, there had been no time.

A lie.

When he had returned with the twins and gone to look for Fi only to learn she had left them.

Left him.

Aelin was already off with the twins and Declan went with Brynjar to investigate what happened to the pack’s missing scouts and then he was lost until Meira pulled him back with her magicks. With her blood. When he was lost the truth of Aelin’s legacy had been revealed, he had done that, had betrayed her and again there was no time.

They’d gone to rescue Durin. The North had gone with the Baramoðn. He had looked for Brynjar and he was in the sands. He looked for Gerwald and he was in the stars. They had gone without her.

Blood for Blood.

"I did hear that the Twins got up to a lot of trouble, and the new Alpha will likely have a lot to discuss with her."

The twins are good Wolves. The pack would likely not have made it through the hard road without Darin and Dorin did well to make sure he got his Alpha’s body home to rest here in Hardhaven. Aelin is likely to be of much interest to Dorian.

Declan left these thoughts unsaid as it seemed Brynjar wanted to move on from them and that was fine with him.

“I fear I would not know. I have known you longer than I have known the twins and Dorian has been busy since his elevation.”

Declan did not mention the fact that he only came to the castle to “sleep” and quite otherwise spent his time in the low places of the city or in the wilds as a wolf. Aelin was not the only one Declan could not find the time for.

"I appreciate the offer brother, but the construction of the hall has to be a Clan Threist effort. The home of where we started, only a Threist can build that, or restore it. However, I would be more than thrilled to have you visit and enjoy a drink once it is finished." Brynjar smiled warmly.

Declan returned the smile yet could not help but feel the sting of rejection.

“Whenever you need me, all you need do is ask.”

Brynjar Threist

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[Brynjar Threist]

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Declan insisted that he was beneficial to Aelin in more ways than one. Brynjar could have argued more but he allowed the compliments to linger, he only hoped that his own words hit at Declan. A lot had happened and things did not go to plan back in the Southern areas, however, it wasn't all bad. They grew together, Declan, Aelin, Brynjar, Gerwald, even those that they gathered grew. It started on Bellassa but it took all of them willing to push forward. To head to Islimore and to start the word that they were getting into.

"I remember the Summerlight Gathering we had on Bellassa. People drunk on the spiked beverage. I asked Aelin to be my mate because I thought it would strength my position as Anasi." Brynjar laughed with his chest at that, "Gerwald ran around naked. Though I think he never liked me after he heard I proposed to Aelin. Too much parental influence back then." Brynjar noted as he sipped his beverage.

It was concerning to him that Declan was estranging himself from his family. To be alone was never a healthy thing to do, Brynjar knew that from experience at least. "I know it must be tough. Been away for so long, they are strangers. But don't miss out the chance to connect with them, to bond. I lost the only family I have because they prioritised their seflish needs, it isn't the same, but I would hate for you to lose yours." He clapped Declan's shoulder and gave a firm, reassuring squeeze.

He could sense a disappointed sting in his friend, he thought on it then grinned. "Look, the main hall is something I am working on myself. However, there is going to be a need for smaller homes, huts and buildings around the main hall if I wish to grow the clan beyond myself. I would be more than grateful for you to join me in building those." It was a gesture but Brynjar also knew it was something he needed if his plans succeeded.

"And know, I am here to support you too. Need me, just let me know." He drained his cup of his drink. Smiling to his brother.

Declan Durinson

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