Chapter 1
Odin:
We were made in the image of the gods: power.
Though we did not wield the same powers, we were thought of as gods themselves by the mortals. Freyja crafted us by her own hand, crafted us of her blood.
Freyja is the goddess of love, fertility, battle and death. So she saw fit that we must be crafted of the same qualities. She gave us the power of the Lycan, and thus from our bite came the gene of werewolf. We were given immortality, along with heightened strength and the propensity for war and battle. If we died, we’d be reborn in the form of a doppelganger and live on.
It was just us two when the story began, and we birthed Lycans of our own. But with Freyja’s gift, came a disadvantage. The loss of memory.
My name is Odin and my mate was named Frigg. Werewolves are unaware of the existence of Lycans. It’s better off that way so we can live in peace. I have served as the Alpha of the northern territories of Canada for the last 75 years without my mate. Werewolves live at least 500 years, where Lycans never die and will be reborn. For now we’ve lived in peace, undetected. Until I saw her.
But I must start over, I’m getting ahead of myself as I often do.
My father was a viking warrior, and taught me to be of the same cloth. His name was Ragnar and he died at a young age in battle when I was only 8 years old.
Back then, death used to mean something, especially the way you died. He died as a warrior and in a battle which meant he would go to Valhalla. He named me Odin after the Nordic God of all Gods, Odin who is associated with war, death, wisdom and magic.
When I was only 16 years old, I took on the same profession, sailing to various lands to overthrow their government, take their land along with their bounties. I lived a carefree life, surrounded by women happy to bed me, feed me, and care for me. My purpose in life seemed simple: war along with pleasure. There wasn’t much else besides those two.
When I was 23 years old, my mother had remarried a fisherman whose faith in the old Norse gods was devout. And that’s when I first saw her. Frigg.
I had seen many beautiful women, and had bedded just about all of them. Women of all varieties: pale skin, dull blonde hair, scarlett hair, brown hair, pigmented skin colors, practically women of all cultures.
But I had never seen one as fair as her.
She was the daughter of the fisherman, the man who would marry my mother, and was to be my stepsister. But my mind had other thoughts. I was determined to have her, to taste her lips, to fondle her breasts, to bed her. But Frigg wanted nothing to do with me, or so she made it seem.
But I couldn’t help but continue my attraction. Most women of my culture had similar features to her but her features were different, unique even. She was beautiful without false rouges or false pigments of the earth. She had the smoothest skin I’ve ever seen, the bluest eyes that resembled the color of the sea I often sailed, and sun colored long blonde hair that had a natural curl to it, and even though she modestly dressed in traditional attire, I could see the curve of her bottom and ample bosom. Her beauty was indescribable and beyond usual comparison. I had not seen a woman yet who attracted me as she did. Yet, she would not pay me much mind. She would only wish me good spirits when I’d leave for war.
But something changed in Frigg after I arrived back from a particularly harsh battle, the look in Frigg’s eyes was different, it was saddening. She saw the scars and wounds that riddled my body and the weakness in my eyes and insisted on caring for me. She made me fresh fish soup, crushed fresh medicinal herbs and applied a paste to my wounds, boiled herbal hot teas along with cleaning and dressing the infected wounds that riddled my body. She insisted on sacrificing an animal in order to bless my next battle and gain favor from the old gods. Even after nurturing me, Frigg still did not want a romantic relationship with me.
Nearly 2 weeks later, when I was healed and able to walk without a limp, Frigg made us climb up to the altar of the Gods deep inside the woods and close to a mountain top. I often prayed to Odin and Thor when I was sailing off to battle over the abundant ocean, but Frigg laughed at my choice of altar and related that it must be where man created temples, that we must honor the gods in the right way. She chose the temple of Freyja to pray over, and we prayed while she sacrificed a large bird, spilling its blood over the altar along with a scatter of herbs and woodland flowers. She promised she would pray for me daily and that I should pray with her upon my return.
And she kept her promise, praying daily alone for my health, victory, and safe arrival home to these Nordic shores. Just as I had promised upon my return we went up to the altar over a dozen times over the course of the year to pay homage to Freyja.
I remember the day like it was yesterday. We were newly 24 years of age. Frigg and I were still only friends or step siblings as some may say. She had warded off all of my advances and still resisted my offer of relations. I was surprised because with each battle I came back with more and more riches and land, but Frigg cared for any of it, instead she would insist on healing me and caring for me if I came back scathed. I had never encountered a woman who lacked ulterior motives, a woman who did not want my cock, or money, or land, or a hand in marriage. She wanted nothing from me, no matter how frequent or persistent my advances got. All she wanted was to pray for me.
Our Lycan origin starts on a midsommer eve in the year 1505. It was the celebration of the summer solstice in a small town of Norway that used to be called Fjäll, where Frigg and I were born. We were just 25 years old on that day, as our days of birth weren’t until wintertime.
The day consisted of lighting bonfires (Sankthansbålet), gathering herbs for our pagan rituals to the Nordic gods and goddesses, feasting on the earth’s bounty of summer, dancing traditional dances and fortune telling. Frigg insisted on praying to Freyja again at the altar to start off midsommer’s eve.
As we were trucking up the mountain by foot, I offered to carry her but she declined politely. As I went to scoop her into my arms, she appeared bewildered but did not argue further. I could tell the soles of her feet were bleeding from her flimsy shoes.
Finally, we were at the base of the temple and moments before entering when a figure appeared in the form of a giant golden colored wolf with silver eyes. I remember Frigg falling to her knees to bow before the figure and muttering Freyja and Bletsan (bless) over and over.
Then I remember the golden colored wolf speaking in norse. The wolf said “Jeg vil gi deg en gave for din tro” (I will give you a gift for your faith), her eyes shifting towards Frigg and then a look of indifference upon her face towards me. The wolf continued, “Du vil bli gitt en gave med enorm styrke og gaven til å skifte til utrolige vesener som ligner gudene selv. Jeg velsigner deg Frigg og dine utvalgte. Helt til vi møtes igjen.” (You will be given a gift of immense strength and the gift of changing into incredible beings resembling the gods themselves. I bless you Frigg and your chosen one. Until we meet again). Then without further explanation, we were given our gifts. We were changed into Lycans and our lives were forever changed.
We shifted minutes after Freyja had given us her blessing. And we had no idea what was happening to us.
Our bodies morphed, changing from human skin to the skin of a wolf, then from living eyes to eyes of a predator with long sharp pointy teeth that could cut through a skin of a bear in a seconds notice, where our hands and ligaments once were now in place were fur covered paws.
Frigg appeared calm, while I, I thought we had a psychedelic at the feast instead of just herbs. Somehow, Frigg spoke to me within her mind, bringing forth first knowledge of our abilities. We could mind link each other. It was hard for both of us to learn how to walk on all fours, but eventually we were running, and leaping through the vast untouched wilderness. All I could see was specks of green trees as we ran along at a swift pace. I had never known an animal to run so fast.
Eventually, we made it to a quiet pond, all the wildlife had dispersed when they scented our arrival. We were the ultimate predators. It was just us two. We peered back through the blue pools, mystified by the image of ourselves in the clear water. We were gigantic wolves, vast in size, towering in height and both colored black with golden eyes.
I remember that day like it was yesterday. It signified so many things for us. It signified the beginning of our relationship and lives. That day changed the course of our lives forever.
Frigg looked at me just as I hoped she would: as a lover. She didn’t give herself to me immediately and I hoped that she wouldn’t. She waited until we were married to do so.
She never stopped praying to Freyja, honoring our traditions, or caring for me. Frigg had given me 10 beautiful children, all pure blooded Lycans. She decided that all of them must carry names that honor the old Norse gods. We had 5 boys: Baldr, Thor, Heimdall, Tyr, Höðr and 5 girls: Eir, Freya, Nerthus, Sif, Yggdrasil. At the age of 25 years old, they reached a state of preservation in age, as we had at our age.
She prayed even up until the day she died. She died in a war amongst packs in our old country.
But Freyja had promised us if a Lycan dies they will be reborn. So I had hope that Frigg would reappear.
But that’s the past, and nothing good comes from dwelling on the past, that will be for another time.
Now, let’s focus on the present. That’s what this story is about anyways.
P.S. The second book Origins: Odin & Frigg will be in depth about their lives and any questions you have. This book is strictly about Odin finding his lost bride, Frigg again.
