The Barbarian's Stolen Bride (Northmen Barbarians 1)

Prologue

Prima

The first frost of the season came early, maybe a harbinger of what the future held for my kingdom, Kaldir, seeing as everything had changed.

I was only ten years of age as I stood by Teron, the man who’d been appointed my guardian when my mother and father passed five winters after the year of my birth.

Teron could be cruel emotionally, with bouts of silence toward me, a cool demeanor, not bothering with more than sneers if he thought I was ungrateful.

Although Teron despised me, he kept his promise to my father, who’d been on his deathbed, and swore he’d watch over me until I was of age. Why he did this, I didn’t know, but I knew without him I’d be a beggar child hiding in the corners of Kaldir.

I stood behind him as if he were my protector. He was far from it. I was nothing but an extra mouth to feed, an extra body to clothe and house from the elements, but his fear of upsetting the gods and going against his word to my father forced him to tend to my needs.

I peeked around Teron’s arm and watched as the snow fell steadily. Thick patches of the white substance were starting to form on the muddy, trampled ground of the village center. I heard the vibrations under my feet at first, then spotted what had drawn the villagers.

A Northman Barbarian.

Even at only ten, I had heard whispered stories of the Northmen Barbarians. A handful of brutal warlords who never failed and always conquered. They were the strongest males to reign over the northlands, and more animal than human.

More male than… any man to ever walk the world.

And this particular barbarian—the one who promised us our lives once more, who was now king—was Fenrir the Destroyer.

He’d laid waste to our cruel and violent king, Egil the Awful, an evil warlord who’d pillaged and desecrated our beautiful land. He stole from us, harmed us… starved us.

And Fenrir ended his life as if he’d simply exhaled and blown out a flame.

For that alone, Fenrir was already praised and worshipped by all of Kaldir.

He sat atop a massive steed of white, the color the same purity as the snow thickly falling. I could see crimson splattered across the massive beast’s flank and felt my eyes widen.

Blood. So much of it that it was mixing with the mud on the ground, turning the slushy snow a murky, red-tinted mess.

The Destroyer moved through the center of the village, his warriors trailing behind on their own steeds, but none of them looked a fraction as fearsome as Fenrir.

None of them showed emotion, their faces stoic, dirt and blood covering their exposed flesh, leather attires, and caked in their hair. They seemed wild and primitive, and I had no doubts all I’d heard about the Northmen was true.

I focused on Fenrir… because there was no way not to. He drew attention like a cold body to a raging fire, like a hungry belly to a platter of meat.

He was our new king, the new ruler of Kaldir.

My eyes stayed wide as I took him in. Never had I seen a male so large and fierce. I actually moved a step back as his steed came closer, although as menacing as he was I felt no fear..

He may have saved and liberated the village, but I wondered if a male such as he had insanity in him. I may have only been ten years of age, but I could see madness in the eyes of men, in the way a warrior held himself.

Blood and killing erased sanity.

Fenrir told us we never had to fear any longer, that he’d come to make sure we prospered… as long as we knew who had provided, who saved us.

Him.

And as he sat atop his massive animal and passed Teron and me, I tilted my head up, up, and up in order to look into his face. He stared at me, his eyes the color of the blue ice that covered the lake by my home.

I was in awe of him instantly.

I knew without a doubt Fenrir might have saved us, but he was even more dangerous than Egil.

He was more powerful.

And only time would tell how far his madness actually went.

1

Prima

Present day

I could only stare at Teron as he sat by the fire and stoked it, his back to me after he’d just told me my fate.

No. I will not be the wife of a warlord, a subservient to the Destroyer.

“It’s been settled, Prima.” Teron finally stood from where he crouched and faced me. He’d aged terribly these last nine winters, with creases around his eyes and mouth, his trimmed beard all but white, and his once dark hair thinning at the temples, the strands streaked with gray.

“You wish to sell me off like property?” I didn’t know why I was shocked. This was common in villages, with females bartered off, sold to other houses for a cow or goat—gods, for even a swatch of quality animal hide.