Mother of Wolves

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Meant to be only 2-3 chapters, still debating on making her story, or leaving mystery to it. A short story about the creation of the Moon Goddess that is worshipped by so many wolves. How she came to be the mother of wolves. Very short story to give insight to the Gods Alpha . Sorry if people hate the idea. (Original work by I.A.B)

Fantasy / Romance
Age Rating:


Forever, holds a much more decaying reality, ruthlessly dragging in the unbearable actuality of loneliness. Even in that thought I was alone. My sisters: Kàra, Sable and Søren came to terms with our curse of living. Each one moving on with life as it was like the rest of the world. In that, I envied them.

The beginning of our deaths and rebirth are a lot bloodier than i'd like to remember. In short: Befriended by crusaders of a kind, spreading a word of their God to “heathens” they called us. We shared only what we believed as well, opening our village and lands to these “crusaders” only to be betrayed in a single night by their soldiers. No one took heed my warnings.

They were alien to our land, unsure to be trusted at first but when the hoards of men in glimmering armor brought gifts of seeds, crops, and jewels. My father, our Earl allowed them to dock, Allowed them women and to drink at our table. Into the night they became drunk with my people and smiled wide with eyes of malice. I would not drink with them, nor did I allow my sisters. I felt their souls piercing me like daggers. Something was not right.

I remember my father parading us before them, presenting his true treasures to these men in armor. Looking Into their faces made my skin crawl, but I held my tongue. My father had always trusted my judgment but with the possessions these men bared were too great to pass up. Our little home of Kenna was dying, and this was our chance he thought, to make use of them. He ignored my plea to kill them all.

“They smell of shit and carnage father. We need to kill them or send them away. I smell it in their souls.Their very air is sickness.” I glared into my father's face, he would not look at me. I wasn't sure what to do to convince him. Why was he so persistent

“Enough...I am Earl and you will stand down H. They may be our only chance to survive the winter. The last of our food will be set as a feast. They carry riches. They can take your sisters and give them a life they need…”

“You cannot be serious-”

“Henbane!” This time he glared back inches from my face. His presence domineering for once. I knew he couldn't hold this, but I admired him for trying. Even I knew he was afraid of me. I sighed in annoyance And agreed to keep the peace.

“If They step out of line I will kill them all.”

My father laughed walking away “ I do not doubt you daughter....No poisons.”

My sisters were shown off in hopes of a wealthy soldier would marry one of them. They were all beautiful there was no denying it , Kára with hair red as violent flames, Søren with hair black as a raven's wing, and Sable with hers as brown as this very earth our home laid on. All any man had to do was look into their eyes, all with a great curse of the sea thrashing inside them. Their flesh soft to the touch, pale as alabaster, and unmarked by the ink of our people. But their bodies laced; jeweled with our homes most glamoured gold. My sisters were pure, but also dangerous, trained by me to be anyone's utmost opponent in battle. After all, what is a rose without thorns?

Yes, my sisters were beautiful, strong, and were lucky to be unlike me.

I,however, was not to be paraded like cattle.i was my father's daughter with the heart and mind of a son he had always wanted. I was shown off as a different treasure, as my father's right hand, council, and norn. I was almost placed above my father himself out of respect. He couldn't have been prouder. The people in our village acknowledged my ranking, and respected my very presence. But the leader of these soldiers did not. He couldn't understand why women were free and equal as they were, or that I held such a high place in our home almost higher than my father, and other council leaders in our home. I was just a simple woman to him. A woman consumed with passions unfit for this placement.

I shared a beauty just as my sisters had; with hair pale as snow, eyes cold and grey as if an imprint of the calm before the storm. My skin marked from my fingertips to my neck, branded as a reminder of who I was , and what hell I can bestow as a soldier, a berserker, a witch, a Norseman.

My life was never my own; As a child I was given to the true dwellers of our Gods, Berserkers. Our people called them the hands and soulless beasts of Loki. They lived like beasts in the wilderness, raiding villages, ravaging its people, stealing and killing for no true reason other than the lust for blood and fear they ignited. They taught me ancient magic of our ancestors, along with the laughter, and grins that widend while in battle as I spilled the blood of hundreds. And I reveled in it. I, too, was a monster.

At first I didn't understand why I was given to them, to these scary, dirty men with stone face expressions. I cried almost every night for 30 nights. When I was older I confronted my father , not expecting a true answer but it was one i settled with.

My father said when i was born i was touched by our god of war. He said Fenrir, our god of Chaos and war came in the form of a wolf black as pitch, and took me from my mother's arms in the dead of night, leaving me at the edge of the woods. When they tried to retrieve me a pack appeared guarding me and the black wolf. My father vowed to our god Loki and Fenrir I would serve them forever, only then did the wolves leave me.

Fate would decide if I was strong enough to survive with the gifts I was given. That our gods will protect me if they see me worthy. ..a pretty fucked mentality back then I think.

Because of this no man dared to look at me. I, myself was a living declaration of death and life for my magic and my upbringing of bloodlust. They dubbed me many things but the angel of death was my favorite.

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