by Regine Abel
“Do not thank me, Anton. The pleasure was all mine.”
His feral grin made me shudder. Even Elder Baras gave him an uneasy look. From all accounts, my father took a sadistic pleasure at skinning Gerwin alive. I wanted to believe his viciousness had been revenge for the years I suffered on Braxia, but I would never know.
“You are always full of surprises, aren’t you?” my father asked. “Friend of the Empire? I didn’t realize you were so well acquainted with the Magnar.”
My face heated again, this time with pleasure.
“Magnar Ravik and I have indeed become friends.”
“So, the rumors that he comes to visit you are true?” Elder Baras asked, incredulous.
I couldn’t resist the urge to gloat. “The Magnar shares my table at least once every month.”
Baras’ eyes widened before sliding over to my father, spying his reaction.
My father leaned back on the couch. The subtle smile on his lips was hard to define, but the pride in his eyes was undeniable. My chest constricted at the unspoken approval.
“And now, like both my pureblood sons, you, my firstborn, are a proven Berserker, duly blooded before witnesses, and unequivocally victorious.”
My lips parted in shock. Baras frowned but didn’t say a word. I had two younger half-brothers; Dheran and Gorav. As the firstborn, I should have become my father’s heir. But mutts didn’t qualify. Therefore, as firstborn pureblood, Dheran would become his heir. It was the first time, as far as I could recall, that my father referred to my brothers and myself on an equal footing.
“Between this, your elevated status with the Magnar, and your lifelong accomplishments that have benefitted the clan as a whole,” my father said, gesturing at the luxurious interior of the penthouse, “the Council of Elders has convened to discuss your status within our clan.”
My brain froze. This couldn’t be headed where I was thinking. I examined my father’s face. The earlier pride faded, replaced by a strange and intense look I had never seen before. He seemed… tense.
“It was the unanimous council’s conclusion that, in spite of being a half-breed, you will be granted full clansman status. From this day forth, you will be known as Anton Aldriss.”
My breath caught in my throat. It was like two tons of unrefined duralium dropped on my chest. I shot out of my seat and paced back and forth, my thoughts firing in a million different directions.
I paused and looked, bewildered, at my father’s impassive face.
Anton Aldriss. I could finally bear my father’s name.
All my life, I had wanted nothing more than to be fully acknowledged and accepted. There was no greater honor than to bear the name of my sire.
“Full status and your name?” I whispered, disbelieving.
“Yes, my son,” my father repeated.
I ran a nervous hand through my hair.
After all these years, why now?
“Although,” Baras added cautiously, “clan leadership would still fall to Dheran who has been groomed since birth for the role.”
I nodded absently. “Of course.”
The last thing I wanted was to lead the damn clan. Anyway, I would get challenged the minute I rose to power. Berserker or not, I couldn’t defeat purebloods in single combat.
I refilled my glass and downed it in one go, the burn going down helping me to gather my thoughts. My father’s strange detachment confused me. After all the challenges, the clan accepting me, at last, should be a victory for him. Did he not want me bearing his name?
“You do not want me to be called Aldriss, do you?” I asked, trying to hide the hurt in my voice.
My father’s eyes narrowed, a strange emotion flickering through them. “First, if I didn’t want you bearing my name, you wouldn’t have lived long enough to be able to.”
Good point.
“Second, I am the leader of this clan. The council is there to advise me, not command me. You wouldn’t get this offer if I didn’t agree.”
I took back my seat, my hands clasped on my lap.
“For as long as I can remember, I’ve never wanted anything more than to be a full member of this clan, to be accepted as your son and have the great honor of bearing your name.”
My father’s face remained unreadable while Baras’ took on the bored expression of someone about to sit through a speech they didn’t particularly care to listen to.
“There are no words to express the joy this offer brings me. However, with the utmost respect, I must decline.”
“What?” Baras hissed, a look of outrage on his face. “You dare?”
“Silence,” my father said to Baras, though he continued staring at me. A strange glimmer lit his dark eyes. “So, Anton, you refuse full clanship and you refuse my name?”
I closed my eyes and exhaled a shuddering breath before looking back at my father.
“I want to bear your name, Clan Leader. I honor you above all others. But I am, and will always remain, a half-breed.”
My father nodded, whether in acknowledgment of my honoring him or to my being a half-breed, only he knew.
“I have a mate now and she’s bearing me a son. The Fates willing, she will bear me many more offspring. I will not renounce them, for anything, or anyone.”
My father’s eyes narrowed. “The Council already agreed that allowances would be made for your son.”
I snorted. “What allowances? That you clan him without full privileges unless he also achieves battle rage? That the clan won’t harm him but will turn a blind eye whenever every other clan hunts him for sport?”
Baras had the decency to look embarrassed, for he had been among those who hadn’t intervened on my behalf.
“What of my daughters? Are they to become sex slaves for the enjoyment of the clansmen? And my mate? I will not have Braxians come into my home and expect Grace to crawl before them like some common whore.”
“It is our way,” Baras growled.
“It is your way,” I bit back. “I am not Braxian. And I will not have my family subjected to your barbaric Braxian laws.”
Baras gasped and turned to my father. My father remained impassive, the same strange glimmer flickering in his eyes.
“What are you saying, Anton?” he asked.
I took in a deep breath. “What I am saying is that I, Anton Myers, firstborn son of Krygor Aldriss, solemnly declare to you, Clan Leader Aldriss, and as witnessed by Clan Elder Baras, that I officially renounce my clan, effective immediately.”
The pounding of my heart was deafening. My father refilled his glass. The sound of the liquid pouring down disturbed the eerie silence. Leaning back in his chair, my father swirled the amber liquid in his glass. He didn’t drink… yet.
“And so, Anton Myers, firstborn son of Krygor Aldriss, it will have taken you twenty-eight years to complete Ghabrak. It was about time.”
What?
“Clan Leader!” Baras said, turning to my father.
“Silence, Baras.”
“But you can’t…”
“I said silence!” my father shouted. “Do you dare pretend to tell me what I can or cannot do with my own blood?” His eyes leveled Baras with a menacing glare. “Anton has renounced the clan. Your duty is done. Now remove yourself and leave me with my son.”
Shaken, Elder Baras bowed and swiftly entered the lift. I looked at my father, bewildered.
Ghabrak? I achieved Ghabrak?
This rite of passage allowed young Braxians to become men. Most completed it between the ages of sixteen and twenty-one. It was the sire who set the conditions the son must meet to prove himself worthy to bear his father’s name. Those conditions normally revolved around the vocation of the clan. Warrior clans would have combat achievements, while farmer clans focused on agricultural, production, or transformation knowledge. However, the father didn’t communicate the conditions to the child. Attaining it without guidance was proof you had reached the necessary maturity to earn manhood. Half-breeds didn’t r
eceive Ghabrak.
“You wanted me to leave the clan,” I whispered, hurt.
“Yes,” my father said before downing his drink, “but merely as a consequence of completing Ghabrak.” I frowned in confusion, making him chuckle. “I wanted you to stop being a victim, Anton. Braxia made you a victim. You defied every odd, survived the impossible, rose far beyond anything I could have ever dreamt for you, and still, you bowed to Braxian Law while it whipped you like a dog.”
I felt gutted. Braxia indeed made me a victim, and I allowed it.
“I was trying to make you proud,” I said.
“Whatever made you think I wasn’t already?”
He put the glass down.
“I was always proud of you, Anton. Do you think I would have faced so many challenges for allowing you to live if I didn’t want you? If I wasn’t proud of you? You are my firstborn and my greatest achievement. Until your woman walked back into your life, I despaired you would die a slave to Braxia.”
I drown in a maelstrom of emotions. My eyes burned and my vision blurred. I struggled to swallow down my tears. A man didn’t cry. I wouldn’t shame myself this way before my father.
“But on Jeruna, you were so angry…”
“I was beyond angry,” my father grounded out. “I was livid. But it was never with you. That should have been your moment of glory. You achieved at such a young age what no other Braxian achieved before. And they robbed you of it.”
So many misunderstandings.
I had been convinced my father wanted to banish me, like every other clansman. That the only reason he hadn’t was because of my Hive project.
“I never doubted you would succeed, Anton. You always succeed.”
“Thank you, Clan Leader. I—”
“Father,” he interrupted. “You can call me father.”
Once more, I blinked away the tears before they emerged. “Thank you, Father.”
He smiled. I couldn’t remember the last time he smiled at me. I cleared my throat.
“I want you to know that although I’ve renounced the clan, all business agreements with Clan Aldriss remain in effect. I see no reason to tamper with our mutually beneficial arrangements.”
Though he tried to hide it, I saw the flicker of relief in my father’s eyes. Most of their revenues were tied to their involvement in my ventures.
“However,” I said, “I do have a parting gift for you.” My father raised a surprised eyebrow. “I don’t know what the future of my relationship with the clan will be. Should we ever have a fallout, I don’t want you beholden to me.”
“You owe me nothing. What I did was a father’s duty.”
“Say that to all the half-breeds whose brains their father bashed onto a wall.”
My father nodded in concession.
I handed him a datakey containing all the information about the business I set up for him and quickly explained what it entailed. My father owned vast agricultural lands unsuitable for growing local produce. However, they were perfect to grow neflium, the main food source of Berulians, a primitive people on Sargaros. They signed an exclusive trade agreement with my father as their sole supplier in exchange for rare minerals and gems that happened to be abundant on their planet. In a couple of years, my father’s wealth would be substantial.
“Thank you, son.” The humble expression on his face touched me far deeper than any words he could have said. “The hour draws late. I would meet your mate before I depart.”
“Of course,” I said, and commed Grace to join us.
She looked breathtaking in a black and amber sarong dress that made her eyes sparkle. I rose to my feet as she entered. Back straight, chin up, she looked regal walking up to me. She slipped her small hand into mine and nodded at my father.
“So there you are, my Anton’s Grace,” he said.
“Hello, Mr. Aldriss.”
My father extended a beckoning hand towards her. “Come, child. Let me have a look at you.”
She gave me a worried glance before complying. Her steps hesitant, she approached my father still sitting on the couch. He quietly examined her, never touching her.
“You are very beautiful,” my father said.
“Thank you, sir.”
“May I?” he asked, gesturing towards her stomach.
Her fingers gripped the hem of her dress. She nodded and gave me another tense look. Without touching her, my father leaned forward, closed his eyes and inhaled. Straightening, he stood up, forcing her to take a couple of steps back. He looked at me and gave me an odd smile.
“Your son smells just like you did. The blood is strong within him. He will be as fierce as you are.”
Grace smiled, putting a protective hand over her belly. She came back to stand next to me and pressed herself against my side.
“Do you love my son, Grace?”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “With all my heart.”
Her soft hair tickled my lips as I kissed the top of her head. My arm wrapped around her as she leaned deeper into me. My father nodded, a pleased expression on his face.
“I can see now why you would renounce your clan for her.”
Grace jerked her head back, a stunned look on her face. “Anton?” she whispered.
“As long as I was clanned, I couldn’t marry you. So I renounced.”
She squealed with joy and launched herself at me. Pearls of tears trickled down her cheeks as a blinding smile brightened her face. Grace kissed me, her fingers digging into my back. My father’s presence should have embarrassed me, but it didn’t. I allowed myself to revel in her affection.
However, his amused chuckle eventually brought us back to order.
“I would have you call me father, and I would call you daughter, if you consent.”
I don’t know which of us felt the most shocked. Her lips quivering, Grace nodded her agreement. Sweeping emotions no doubt numbed her ability to speak. She craved belonging, especially to a family. Her parents’ abandonment still pained her.
“As for you Anton, your name in the Hall of Records was always Anton Aldriss.” My father smiled. How many more bombs would he drop on me? “It would please me if you would consider using it.”
My stomach fluttered at the thought. I frowned.
“But, the rules say you can’t,” I said, fearing to hope.
“The rules also said I shouldn’t have let you live.”
“But… I have renounced. That would make me Anton the anAldriss.”
“That’s a Braxian rule. You’re not Braxian,” he said with a smirk.
I laughed. This rebellious side of my father had never been so plainly displayed before. It was… nice. I should have realized sooner that my renouncing freed him of the rules that shackled both of us.
“Think about it,” he said, walking towards the lobby. “I must take my leave.” He called the lift and faced me while waiting for it to arrive. “Your brothers wish to get to know you. It would please me if you did.”
Dheran had been six years old when I left Braxia. He would be twenty-one now. Gorav would be eighteen. I always dreamt of a relationship with them but never imagined it possible.
“It would please me as well, Father.”
He smiled and the lift chimed.
Nodding to each of us in turn, he said, “Son. Daughter,” then entered the lift. Its doors closed before him as we called out our farewell.
EPILOGUE
Grace
Sitting in the amazing Atrium Anton built for our children, one would think we were in a luxurious Dantorian garden. Large trees, soft grass, beautiful waterfalls, holographic sky and even real birds nesting in the trees gave the illusion that we were on a planet’s surface instead of out in space. Since our wedding, Anton realized Venus Hive didn’t cater to the families that worked here. Although other patrons weren’t barred access, the entirety of the Atrium was to remain family friendly. This meant, no sex or lewd behavior.
Sitting at a picnic table, I pored over the rehears
al schedules for my next show, while keeping a distracted eye on the children. Naya, our youngest, and Cullen, our second-born, played some kind of ball game with Marcus. Gavin, our firstborn, sat beside me, drawing.
Though my debut show had been delayed by three months, it eventually occurred and had been a resounding success. I regularly performed sold out shows. Carrie hadn’t worked out. I guess a one-time ‘beware of the in-crowd’ speech wasn’t enough to get a young, foolish girl back on the right track. However, Sacha and I became friends and she held a permanent spot on my show. She was a talented, hard-working dancer. It was my first time having a true female friend, or any kind of friend to be honest – excluding Marcus. She and Brandon also hit it off and made a very cute couple.
As part of his reward for saving my life, Brandon was offered a promotion, which he declined. He didn’t want a desk job. Instead, Anton gave him a fancy three-bedroom suite in the residential sector, fully paid and furnished, plus a large performance bonus. Brandon had been saving every credit to pay passage for his mother and sister who were stranded in a poor human colony on some backwater planet. Needless to say, Anton booked them first class cabins on a luxury cruiser.
Marcus now did freelance work for Anton. He was still too much of a free spirit to be bogged down with an official job. It felt too ‘settled down’ for him. He mainly scouted new talents for which he received finder’s fee. He also handled some contract negotiations for Anton who was delegating more and more of his duties to have more time with our family. While Marcus continued some of his wheeling and dealing, he no longer involved himself in shady transactions.
Sheila left Venus Hive a few months after I gave birth to Gavin. She no longer seemed able to book a contract that didn’t require some kind of horizontal performance as well. But even those eventually dried up. Apparently, she found a modicum of popularity on Lilith Hive. It was a step back. However, it beat landing on a ghetto-like pleasure barge such as Callan Fall.
I heard Anton’s approach before he stepped into my field of view.
“Working again,” Anton smiled, lessening the scolding that was nonetheless present in his tone.