Asgardwascrashingdownaround them—Ragnarök had arrived, proving the gods wrong. The prophecies had been more than legends, and yet none took heed. Too many Seers of old had told various falsehoods for their own benefit and they had lost credibility, leading the gods to foolishly assume their downfall was a hoax.
And yet, with fire and brimstone, the once beautiful and affluent city of the gods crumbled, and Fenrir’s loud growl reverberated through the realms. Asgard lay in shambles, the bodies of gods and goddesses scattered throughout, torn to shreds by the newly freed wolf. A lone god cried out at the sight of Odin’s lifeless body draped over Frigg’s still form.
The rainbow bridge burst into a blinding white light, illuminating the branches of Yggdrasil. The god watched in horror as nine whole planets shattered. Confusion swept over him—This wasn’t prophesied.
Ragnarök was supposed to be the death of the gods, not the death of the realms. He could do nothing but watch as the worlds imploded as if time had slowed, allowing him to witness the atrocity. The god could almost hear the sound of trillions of life forms screaming in unison.
He closed his eyes, chanting the death prayer in a quiet voice as Yggdrasil’s light began to fade.
A growl sounded from behind him, sending a chill down his spine. He spun to stare into the blood-red eyes of the great wolf. His end had come, as the legends foretold. He was not scared of Death—for millennia she had been his constant companion. He was ready for the halls of Valhalla. What he wouldn’t allow was the death of life itself.
Before Fenrir could pounce, the god whispered a spell and threw the closest weapon he could reach at the very heart of Yggdrasil. It landed with a satisfying burst of light, halting the implosion of the planets. A glowing shard from each realm fell towards him, the spell pulling magic from the very core of his being.
The wolf had been momentarily distracted but refocused and twisted back to fulfill his destiny. The god closed his eyes, preparing for the pain of being ripped apart by sharp fangs.
Instead, an unseen magic tugged at him. The spell he cast physically dragged him away from the wolf. His eyes flew open with a brief feeling of hope that he would escape Death. But the relief was short-lived because instead of teeth, he found a giant paw coming straight towards him. The spell pulled, but it was too late.
As the claws connected, everything went black.
Solveigwasgoingtorip this male’s insides out through his cock.
Honestly, she should be praised for her patience after dealing with this snake for centuries. She would have to speak with the queens again about Maddock before she did something rash like spear him through the mouth—neutralizing whatever poison he was about to spew. Her mothers likely wouldn’t be surprised given the amount of effort she’d already made trying to remove him from council.
“My liege requires an explanation. Why have Their Majesties continued to fail in our collective endeavour to restore magic? Perhaps they ought to leave the decision-making to a more suitable ... king.” Maddock sneered, challenging Solveig to rise to his bait.
Frankly, the punishment for attacking a council member seemed less severe than having to sit through his arrogance. The condescension dripping from his tongue made Solveig want to cut it out and shove it up his ass.
Centuries of practicing patience were barely enough to give a diplomatic answer. “And what would Jotunheim have them do, Commander?” she asked as politely as she could bear.
“Perhaps, to avoid another misstep in leadership like the Vanaheim Battle, we should ...”
Solveig stopped listening lest she begin an entirely new war by gutting the Giant heir with her spoon. If she had to hear one more time how his armies would have been at the Vanaheim Battle if he’d been informedone day earlier, she was going to lose her fucking mind.
She had led the Asgardian armies that day. One hundred and fifty years later, the thought of the slaughter still stung, her heart throbbing with the pain as though it were yesterday. She tried to close her mind to the memories, but they came unbidden just the same.
A surge of mortal soldiers sprang from the ground in an ambush, wiping out the entire Vanaheim army.
Digging through the carnage, screaming as she knelt beside bodies of those who trusted her to protect them. To bring them home.
Her battalion was one of five, each concealed around the outskirts of the field to strike the mortal army from all sides in Vanaheim’s surprise attack. When the Queens had appointed her, a Vanir, as the general of the Asgardian army and chief of the Vanir Southern Wilds Legion, she’d been proud to serve. The pride had been replaced with guilt and shame that she had not died alongside her kin.
A throat cleared.
“General Tordottir.” Maddock’s voice was heavy with exasperation.
“Yes, Commander. My apologies,” Solveig responded, realizing the council had continued speaking while she drifted into the past.
She refocused on the discussion at hand, mentally shaking out of her dark thoughts. Running a hand through her copper hair, she listened to Maddock drone on about the failures of the past.
“As I was saying, in lieu of any fruitful action by your queens, my king has decreed that a heavily armed raid be organized and discharged,” he told the council. “Today,” he added as an afterthought.
The nerve of this male to come into her camp and make demands on behalf of a monarch who did not rule her people. Solveig’s blood boiled, treaty be damned—she clasped hands together until her skin turned white with restraint and her knuckles ached.
One more word out of the Giant’s mouth slighting her mothers and he’d find himself splayed out on the table, both of Solveig’s swords sticking out of his chest.
The Asgardian Queens had once been held in such high regard by all races—no one dared challenge them. Only since the War of Realms had the Giants begun pushing back against the Trifold alliance of the Fae, Elven, and Vanir, or witches, as other races liked to refer to them.
Solveig glanced around the room at the thirty or so council members who sat at the round table. She tried not to make eye contact with the dignitary from Asgard—he would share her sentiments and it would not do well to fuel her fire.
