I wrote this prologue before I even began writing The Marriage of Time. When deciding how to start the novel, my editor and I chose a different beginning\u2014where a grown-up Hakon confronts King Nyr. But I love this chapter because you get to see exactly what happened from twelve-year-old Hakon\u2019s perspective, and who he was the night everything changed. You also get to meet his mother, Dota, and his father, Ulf.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So, I thought you might enjoy spending some more time with Hakon and see the origins of The Beast.<\/p>","protected":false},"featured_media":32317,"template":"","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"advanced_seo_description":"","jetpack_seo_html_title":"","jetpack_seo_noindex":false,"jetpack_seo_schema_type":"","audio_narratedby":"","books_shopifyaudiourl":"","books_audibleurl":"","books_amazonaudiourl":"","books_googleplayaudiourl":"","books_applebooksaudiourl":"","books_koboaudiourl":"","books_nookaudiourl":"","books_chirpurl":"","books_spotifyurl":"","books_mp3audioembed":"","books_publicationdate":"","bookslp_linksheadline":"Buy the book","books_shopifyurl":"","books_shopifyfreeurl":"","books_amazonurl":"https:\/\/geni.us\/h2AE7j","books_amazonprinturl":"","books_amazonhcurl":"","books_amazonlpurl":"","books_applebooksurl":"","books_nookurl":"","books_kobourl":"","books_googleplayurl":"","books_downloadurl":"","books_bookbuburl":"","books_goodreadsurl":"","books_reviewsheadline":"","books_excerptheadline":"Read the deleted prologue","books_excerpt":"
VIKING'S BRIDE<\/p>\r\n
A Time Travel Romance<\/p>\r\n
Called by a Viking Series<\/p>\r\n
\u00a9 Mariah Stone. All rights reserved.<\/p>\r\n
DELETED PROLOGUE<\/strong><\/p>\r\nNorway, 858 AD\r\n\r\nCursed. Terrifying. Unwanted.\r\n\r\nThe gods, men, the world reject me.\r\n\r\nThe shadows of the pine trees on the moonlit snow sparkle like ground glass. When I inhale, the cold glues my nostrils shut. My mother and I sit on a horse, and my mother\u2019s breath rushes out in quick clouds around my head, but she suppresses the sound. Her hands holding the reins in front of me clench into fists.\r\n\r\nSnow crunches under the horse\u2019s hooves as it steps onto the edge of a small moonlit clearing. The three of us freeze. Something lurks in the darkness between the pines.\r\n\r\nThen shadows come and snow whispers under their paws. Steam pumps from their jaws. Their eyes glow, teeth bare, noses wrinkle, shoulders round.\r\n\r\nWolves.<\/em>\r\n\r\nTerror slithers in my stomach. Bile rises. It is just me, my mother, and the horse against the pack.\r\n\r\n\u201cClimb the pine, Hakon.\u201d Mother maneuvers the terrified horse close to the trunk of a giant tree.\r\n\r\nI obey. She will follow, and we will be safe up there. Someone will come to get us. I clamber over the lowest, thickest branch, and it sinks under my weight, sending a hail of snow thudding to the ground below. As I stand on it and reach the next branch, snow pours over me, sliding down my burning cheeks. My breath is heavy, my heart drums in my ears, the wood cracks and scratches my hands as I work my way up. The giant ax on my belt slows me down, but I climb up, up, away from the whiteness into the darkness of the sky. But all too soon I\u2019m so high up, there\u2019s nowhere left to go. Here all I can see the stars scattered across the sky.\r\n\r\nThe wolves howl and snarl somewhere below, close by. The horse neighs, then its voice trails off into the distance.\r\n\r\nMother must be climbing, perhaps she let the poor animal go. I sit on a branch that looks strong enough to hold my weight and hug the trunk. Under my feet lies a thicket of black needles and branches.\r\n\r\nI wait for her.\r\n\r\nBut the tree does not move, does not tremble, does not rustle. No one is climbing it.\r\n\r\nWhere is Mother?<\/em>\r\n\r\nMy breath catches in my throat, I choke in horror as I take in the surroundings.\r\n\r\nNothing moves in the clearing. The snow does not whisper, does not crunch. The wolves do not howl, and the horse does not neigh.\r\n\r\nI am alone.\r\n\r\nThe woods are still and waiting.\r\n\r\nTears blur my vision. Fear for Mother snaps shut on my heart like a bear trap. I must find her. I can not leave her to the wolves.\r\n\r\nThe way back down is slow and arduous. When my feet sink into the soft snow, I see the tracks of the horse. The wolves\u2019 paws have left frozen waves in the white storm. I pull the ax from my belt, its smooth handle burns my hand.\r\n\r\nIf anything happens to her, it will be because of me.<\/em>\r\n\r\nAs I follow the tracks, I remember.\r\n\r\nEarlier tonight, she woke me. \u201cWe must go, Hakon.\u201d\r\n\r\nHer worried face hung over me like a moon.\r\n\r\nI rose on my elbows. \u201cWhat is it, Mother?\u201d My mouth felt as if it were filled with clay from sleep.\r\n\r\nShe stroked my head, glanced over her shoulder into the mead hall, her eyes wide and worried. Guests and servants slept in alcoves as I did. But in the dim light of the long hearth, my father and our guest, Jarl Nyr, were slouched over their cups of mead. Father\u2019s back was round and tense. In the shadows thrown by the dying flames, Jarl Nyr\u2019s eyes glowed, hot coals from the depths of Helheim. And they watched me; their eyes burning my skin, making the birthmark around my eye itch.\r\n\r\nSleep fled my body. I sat up and threw off the blanket, the chill air biting my skin under the night shift.\r\n\r\nMother held out my clothes for me. \u201cGet dressed, sweet.\u201d\r\n\r\nWith a heavy head, I began dressing. \u201cWhere are we going in winter? At night?\u201d When she did not reply, I said, \u201cIs Father coming, too?\u201d\r\n\r\nI knew the answer. She flashed a tense smile. \u201cNo, sweet, just you and me. We are going to my family in Geiler.\u201d\r\n\r\nOf course, Father would not come. A twinge of pain at his rejection stung me. But it was not unfamiliar, I took his daily coldness to me like oats for dagmal. For as long as I could remember, he had always thought my birthmark was a sign of bad luck. That I was cursed by the gods.\r\n\r\nA Norseman fears nothing as much as bad luck. Not even death.\r\n\r\nI put on my winter jacket. Deep worry coiled in my gut. \u201cDid Jarl Nyr bring news of war? I want to stay and defend Lomdalen.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNo, not a war.\u201d Mother put the woolen hat on me that she had knitted. She glanced back at Jarl Nyr and whispered to me, \u201cIt is not safe for you here anymore.\u201d\r\n\r\nI frowned. Had Jarl Nyr threatened my life in some way?\r\n\r\nShe handed me a big ax, and my arms sunk with its weight. Pride rose in me. She trusted me with a grown man\u2019s weapon when I was barely twelve winters of age. I had always hoped that my father would gift me one before we went viking for the first time.\r\n\r\nBut it was my Mother.\r\n\r\nWith shaking hands, I put the ax on my belt. \u201cLet us go, Mother.\u201d\r\n\r\nAs we walked to the gates, Father stood, as big and mighty as a golden giant, watching us with a deep frown. Worry, relief, and guilt etched his face. He walked towards us and stopped abruptly before us. Mother tensed and laid her hands on my shoulders. Jarl Nyr watched from the mead-bench.\r\n\r\n\u201cUlf, you agreed that I am the one taking him,\u201d Mother said.\r\n\r\nFather\u2019s lips twitched, then flattened into a straight line in his full golden beard.\r\n\r\n\u201cYes, Dota.\u201d He looked at me, really looked at me, and my breath stopped under his gaze that lay as heavy as a mountain on my skin. It was the longest that Father\u2019s eyes ever met mine.\r\n\r\n\u201cUlf, we agreed.\u201d Mother\u2019s voice rung harsh like a sword against a shield.\r\n\r\nFather closed his eyes. His hand shot to the Mj\u00f6lnir, Thor\u2019s hammer pendant, on his neck. He sighed. When he opened his eyes again, he moved his hand as if to touch me. The skin on my scalp tingled, my heart pounded in my ears. I held my breath, afraid to spook him from showing his affection. But Father\u2019s arm stopped mid-air and dropped.\r\n\r\nHe nodded. \u201cGo. The Gods be with you both.\u201d\r\n\r\nMy legs were heavy, and my breath rushed in halting puffs of air. Everything was wrong tonight. I glanced at our guest, and something dark and cold slithered in my stomach.\r\n\r\nBut now I am here, in the freezing woods. My legs sink knee-deep in the snow as I make my way. From the darkness between the trees, a movement catches my eye. I freeze.\r\n\r\nSteam puffs out of the wolf\u2019s jaws in swirls. Giant. He must be as tall as me. He moves one step towards me, head low, teeth bared, eyes pinning me like spears to a wall.\r\n\r\nAnd in them lurks my death.\r\n\r\nBlood freezes in my veins, the birthmark around my eye burns. The ax is as heavy as Midgard, and I can not move my arm.\r\n\r\nThe beast launches at me, snow spraying from under its paws, fog rushing from his jaws. Paralyzed, I watch him run at me. It is as if time has slowed down. But as he is almost upon me, I come to my senses. I stagger, fall on my back, beat the snow with my feet, trying to scramble away from him. Rolling over on all fours, I crawl towards a pine.\r\n\r\nI almost reach it, then I sense him, or hear him, or is it someone\u2019s voice inside my head telling me to roll?\r\n\r\nI roll.\r\n\r\nHe flies over me, his teeth grazing the sleeve of my jacket, his stinking breath searing my cheek. He smashes into the snowdrift at the roots of the tree with a soft thud.\r\n\r\nI clamber back away from him, expecting another attack. Then death.\r\n\r\nBut it does not come.\r\n\r\nI stand, ax ready. The wolf writhes and whimpers in the snowdrift, dark blood spreads through the snow like a flower. I move closer, and I see why. An old, dry stick, as sharp as a spear pierces his shoulder. He twitches, giant legs kicking, trying to free himself.\r\n\r\nBut he is alive, and his yellow-green eyes still glow with a threat. Maybe he is the curse that the gods sent me. Maybe he is the Fenrir, the giant wolf, and Loki\u2019s son. He finds the strength and peels himself off the stick. He staggers at first but launches at me on three legs with a growl.\r\n\r\nThis time, I am ready. I swing my ax at him as his jaws come for my neck. But the ax is too heavy, and I only manage to hit him in the chest.\r\n\r\nHe is weak though, and he falls. He comes again, but I strike. The blade sinks into his flesh. He whimpers. His teeth flash next to my ear, his claws cut my cheek and the side of my head, the pain blinds me.\r\n\r\nI roar, and he roars, his jaws hungry for my blood. I kick him in the stomach, and he flies back. I swing my ax, and it lands below his neck.\r\n\r\nThere is a whimper, and he crashes into the snow with a thud.\r\n\r\nBlood pumps from his wound, slows down, stops. His eyes grow dead and still.\r\n\r\nI pant, battle fury still thundering in me like waves of fire. I have just killed a wolf, my first wolf.\r\n\r\nBut a whole pack is after my mother.\r\n\r\nI turn around and run as fast as I can, following the tracks. After a while, my legs grow heavy as if full of water, my hands buzz from the cold, and my chest hurts with worry for her. I swallow my tears; the frozen, black and white kingdom around me blurry.\r\n\r\nAnd then, too soon, or an eternity later, I find her.\r\n\r\nBlood in the mashed snow leads towards a line of trees. And there, lies a hill of brown flesh. The horse.\r\n\r\nMy heart stops. My ears ring. The world turns to ice. I cease to live for a moment.\r\n\r\nNext to the horse, my mother\u2026what is left of her.\r\n\r\nThe wolves are gone\u2014if they were here, I would kill every single one of them or let them have me.\r\n\r\nStaggering towards her, I sink to my knees by her side. Her beautiful, blue eyes are fixed on the stars, but they do not see them.\r\n\r\nShe died protecting me. She lead the pack away, and she took my death. My curse. The punishment the gods intended for me.\r\n\r\nHow will I live without her?<\/em>\r\n\r\nA tear crawls down my cheek, but it does not burn, the cold does not chill me. I feel nothing.\r\n\r\nShe must have a proper burial. I cut the biggest pine branch I can see and lay her body on it.\r\n\r\nI walk. I follow the horse\u2019s trail, pulling the branch behind me like a sled. My lungs burn, but my body is numb. I walk until the late winter sunrise colors the sky in gentle pink, like my mother\u2019s cheeks used to be on a cold day. I walk farther, and it is almost noon when I pass the sacred grove that is just a short walk from the village.\r\n\r\nThe streets are empty. The scent of woodsmoke rising from the holes of the roofs mixed with frost is foreign. My vision blurs and the ground shifts.\r\n\r\nI head straight towards the mead hall. The doors fly open, warm air burns my face. Gasps run across the hall. People sitting around the central hearth, and on the mead-benches, watch me as if I am Hel herself, their eyes round, their faces ashen.\r\n\r\nMy father looks like he has aged a hundred years. Jarl Nyr\u2019s frown is as deep as a crack in a mountain. I take my mother\u2019s body under the armpits and drag her inside. People touch their Mj\u00f6lnir\u2019sfor protection.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d Father\u2019s whisper thunders in the dead silence of the hall.\r\n\r\nThe words hit my numbness, and it crumbles like the wall of ice. Pain flushes through me, squeezing my muscles, my heart aching. My mouth opens and closes, the ache in my heart chokes me, and my arms tighten around my mother\u2019s body.\r\n\r\nHe moves towards me. \u201cIt is you.\u201d His voice rolls through the quiet mead hall like thunder. \u201cYour curse. The gods cursed you, and yet everyone around you must pay!\u00a0She<\/em>\u00a0must pay\u2026\u201d\r\n\r\nHis words hit me, ringing inside my head.\r\n\r\n\u201cLook what you have done to her\u2026\u201d He takes her gently from me, and my arms fall.\r\n\r\nEvery pair of eyes spear me as if I have just brought Ragnar\u00f6k on them, the end of the world. I must look like death to them, bloody-snow caked on my clothes, deep scratches on my face.\r\n\r\nThe snarling wolf\u2019s head birthmark around my eye must glow like molten iron to them.\r\n\r\nMy mark. My bad luck.<\/em>\r\n\r\nMy gaze meets Jarl Nyr\u2019s, and for the first time, I see the fear in his eyes. \u201cYou are full of surprises, are you not, boy? The mark on your eye was a sign.\u201d He pauses for a moment, then adds softly, \u201cYou are a beast.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe last word echoes throughout the hall. It saturates the air, mixes with my sweat, my hair, and seeps into my skin.\r\n\r\nMy heart whispers it with every thump.\r\n\r\nBeast<\/em>.\r\n\r\nCursed by the gods and the people. Rejected by his own father. The son who killed his mother.\r\n\r\nHakon the Beast.\r\n\r\nCopyright \u00a9 2019 by Mariah Stone<\/strong>\r\n\r\nAll rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.<\/strong>","books_featureposition":"notfeatured","books_featuredescription":"","books_seriesnumber":"","ms_book_languages":"","ms_wide_languages":""},"series":[35922],"trope":[],"genre":[35923],"audiobooks":[],"class_list":["post-30805","books","type-books","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","series-called-by-a-viking","genre-viking-time-travel-romance"],"acf":{"books_hidearchive":true,"audio_cover":"","audio_narratedby":"","books_shopifyaudiourl":"","books_audibleurl":"","books_amazonaudiourl":"","books_googleplayaudiourl":"","books_applebooksaudiourl":"","books_koboaudiourl":"","books_nookaudiourl":"","books_chirpurl":"","books_spotifyurl":"","books_audiopurchaserptr":null,"books_mp3audioembed":"","books_publicationdate":null,"bookslp_linksheadline":"Buy the book","books_shopifyurl":"","books_shopifyfreeurl":"","books_amazonurl":"https:\/\/geni.us\/h2AE7j","books_amazonprinturl":"","books_amazonhcurl":"","books_amazonlpurl":"","books_applebooksurl":"","books_nookurl":"","books_kobourl":"","books_googleplayurl":"","books_downloadurl":"","books_purchaserptr":null,"books_bookbuburl":"","books_goodreadsurl":"","books_bonuscontentrptr":null,"books_reviewsheadline":"","books_reviewsrptr":null,"books_excerptheadline":"Read the deleted prologue","books_excerpt":" VIKING'S BRIDE<\/p>\r\n A Time Travel Romance<\/p>\r\n Called by a Viking Series<\/p>\r\n \u00a9 Mariah Stone. All rights reserved.<\/p>\r\n DELETED PROLOGUE<\/strong><\/p>\r\nNorway, 858 AD\r\n\r\nCursed. Terrifying. Unwanted.\r\n\r\nThe gods, men, the world reject me.\r\n\r\nThe shadows of the pine trees on the moonlit snow sparkle like ground glass. When I inhale, the cold glues my nostrils shut. My mother and I sit on a horse, and my mother\u2019s breath rushes out in quick clouds around my head, but she suppresses the sound. Her hands holding the reins in front of me clench into fists.\r\n\r\nSnow crunches under the horse\u2019s hooves as it steps onto the edge of a small moonlit clearing. The three of us freeze. Something lurks in the darkness between the pines.\r\n\r\nThen shadows come and snow whispers under their paws. Steam pumps from their jaws. Their eyes glow, teeth bare, noses wrinkle, shoulders round.\r\n\r\nWolves.<\/em>\r\n\r\nTerror slithers in my stomach. Bile rises. It is just me, my mother, and the horse against the pack.\r\n\r\n\u201cClimb the pine, Hakon.\u201d Mother maneuvers the terrified horse close to the trunk of a giant tree.\r\n\r\nI obey. She will follow, and we will be safe up there. Someone will come to get us. I clamber over the lowest, thickest branch, and it sinks under my weight, sending a hail of snow thudding to the ground below. As I stand on it and reach the next branch, snow pours over me, sliding down my burning cheeks. My breath is heavy, my heart drums in my ears, the wood cracks and scratches my hands as I work my way up. The giant ax on my belt slows me down, but I climb up, up, away from the whiteness into the darkness of the sky. But all too soon I\u2019m so high up, there\u2019s nowhere left to go. Here all I can see the stars scattered across the sky.\r\n\r\nThe wolves howl and snarl somewhere below, close by. The horse neighs, then its voice trails off into the distance.\r\n\r\nMother must be climbing, perhaps she let the poor animal go. I sit on a branch that looks strong enough to hold my weight and hug the trunk. Under my feet lies a thicket of black needles and branches.\r\n\r\nI wait for her.\r\n\r\nBut the tree does not move, does not tremble, does not rustle. No one is climbing it.\r\n\r\nWhere is Mother?<\/em>\r\n\r\nMy breath catches in my throat, I choke in horror as I take in the surroundings.\r\n\r\nNothing moves in the clearing. The snow does not whisper, does not crunch. The wolves do not howl, and the horse does not neigh.\r\n\r\nI am alone.\r\n\r\nThe woods are still and waiting.\r\n\r\nTears blur my vision. Fear for Mother snaps shut on my heart like a bear trap. I must find her. I can not leave her to the wolves.\r\n\r\nThe way back down is slow and arduous. When my feet sink into the soft snow, I see the tracks of the horse. The wolves\u2019 paws have left frozen waves in the white storm. I pull the ax from my belt, its smooth handle burns my hand.\r\n\r\nIf anything happens to her, it will be because of me.<\/em>\r\n\r\nAs I follow the tracks, I remember.\r\n\r\nEarlier tonight, she woke me. \u201cWe must go, Hakon.\u201d\r\n\r\nHer worried face hung over me like a moon.\r\n\r\nI rose on my elbows. \u201cWhat is it, Mother?\u201d My mouth felt as if it were filled with clay from sleep.\r\n\r\nShe stroked my head, glanced over her shoulder into the mead hall, her eyes wide and worried. Guests and servants slept in alcoves as I did. But in the dim light of the long hearth, my father and our guest, Jarl Nyr, were slouched over their cups of mead. Father\u2019s back was round and tense. In the shadows thrown by the dying flames, Jarl Nyr\u2019s eyes glowed, hot coals from the depths of Helheim. And they watched me; their eyes burning my skin, making the birthmark around my eye itch.\r\n\r\nSleep fled my body. I sat up and threw off the blanket, the chill air biting my skin under the night shift.\r\n\r\nMother held out my clothes for me. \u201cGet dressed, sweet.\u201d\r\n\r\nWith a heavy head, I began dressing. \u201cWhere are we going in winter? At night?\u201d When she did not reply, I said, \u201cIs Father coming, too?\u201d\r\n\r\nI knew the answer. She flashed a tense smile. \u201cNo, sweet, just you and me. We are going to my family in Geiler.\u201d\r\n\r\nOf course, Father would not come. A twinge of pain at his rejection stung me. But it was not unfamiliar, I took his daily coldness to me like oats for dagmal. For as long as I could remember, he had always thought my birthmark was a sign of bad luck. That I was cursed by the gods.\r\n\r\nA Norseman fears nothing as much as bad luck. Not even death.\r\n\r\nI put on my winter jacket. Deep worry coiled in my gut. \u201cDid Jarl Nyr bring news of war? I want to stay and defend Lomdalen.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNo, not a war.\u201d Mother put the woolen hat on me that she had knitted. She glanced back at Jarl Nyr and whispered to me, \u201cIt is not safe for you here anymore.\u201d\r\n\r\nI frowned. Had Jarl Nyr threatened my life in some way?\r\n\r\nShe handed me a big ax, and my arms sunk with its weight. Pride rose in me. She trusted me with a grown man\u2019s weapon when I was barely twelve winters of age. I had always hoped that my father would gift me one before we went viking for the first time.\r\n\r\nBut it was my Mother.\r\n\r\nWith shaking hands, I put the ax on my belt. \u201cLet us go, Mother.\u201d\r\n\r\nAs we walked to the gates, Father stood, as big and mighty as a golden giant, watching us with a deep frown. Worry, relief, and guilt etched his face. He walked towards us and stopped abruptly before us. Mother tensed and laid her hands on my shoulders. Jarl Nyr watched from the mead-bench.\r\n\r\n\u201cUlf, you agreed that I am the one taking him,\u201d Mother said.\r\n\r\nFather\u2019s lips twitched, then flattened into a straight line in his full golden beard.\r\n\r\n\u201cYes, Dota.\u201d He looked at me, really looked at me, and my breath stopped under his gaze that lay as heavy as a mountain on my skin. It was the longest that Father\u2019s eyes ever met mine.\r\n\r\n\u201cUlf, we agreed.\u201d Mother\u2019s voice rung harsh like a sword against a shield.\r\n\r\nFather closed his eyes. His hand shot to the Mj\u00f6lnir, Thor\u2019s hammer pendant, on his neck. He sighed. When he opened his eyes again, he moved his hand as if to touch me. The skin on my scalp tingled, my heart pounded in my ears. I held my breath, afraid to spook him from showing his affection. But Father\u2019s arm stopped mid-air and dropped.\r\n\r\nHe nodded. \u201cGo. The Gods be with you both.\u201d\r\n\r\nMy legs were heavy, and my breath rushed in halting puffs of air. Everything was wrong tonight. I glanced at our guest, and something dark and cold slithered in my stomach.\r\n\r\nBut now I am here, in the freezing woods. My legs sink knee-deep in the snow as I make my way. From the darkness between the trees, a movement catches my eye. I freeze.\r\n\r\nSteam puffs out of the wolf\u2019s jaws in swirls. Giant. He must be as tall as me. He moves one step towards me, head low, teeth bared, eyes pinning me like spears to a wall.\r\n\r\nAnd in them lurks my death.\r\n\r\nBlood freezes in my veins, the birthmark around my eye burns. The ax is as heavy as Midgard, and I can not move my arm.\r\n\r\nThe beast launches at me, snow spraying from under its paws, fog rushing from his jaws. Paralyzed, I watch him run at me. It is as if time has slowed down. But as he is almost upon me, I come to my senses. I stagger, fall on my back, beat the snow with my feet, trying to scramble away from him. Rolling over on all fours, I crawl towards a pine.\r\n\r\nI almost reach it, then I sense him, or hear him, or is it someone\u2019s voice inside my head telling me to roll?\r\n\r\nI roll.\r\n\r\nHe flies over me, his teeth grazing the sleeve of my jacket, his stinking breath searing my cheek. He smashes into the snowdrift at the roots of the tree with a soft thud.\r\n\r\nI clamber back away from him, expecting another attack. Then death.\r\n\r\nBut it does not come.\r\n\r\nI stand, ax ready. The wolf writhes and whimpers in the snowdrift, dark blood spreads through the snow like a flower. I move closer, and I see why. An old, dry stick, as sharp as a spear pierces his shoulder. He twitches, giant legs kicking, trying to free himself.\r\n\r\nBut he is alive, and his yellow-green eyes still glow with a threat. Maybe he is the curse that the gods sent me. Maybe he is the Fenrir, the giant wolf, and Loki\u2019s son. He finds the strength and peels himself off the stick. He staggers at first but launches at me on three legs with a growl.\r\n\r\nThis time, I am ready. I swing my ax at him as his jaws come for my neck. But the ax is too heavy, and I only manage to hit him in the chest.\r\n\r\nHe is weak though, and he falls. He comes again, but I strike. The blade sinks into his flesh. He whimpers. His teeth flash next to my ear, his claws cut my cheek and the side of my head, the pain blinds me.\r\n\r\nI roar, and he roars, his jaws hungry for my blood. I kick him in the stomach, and he flies back. I swing my ax, and it lands below his neck.\r\n\r\nThere is a whimper, and he crashes into the snow with a thud.\r\n\r\nBlood pumps from his wound, slows down, stops. His eyes grow dead and still.\r\n\r\nI pant, battle fury still thundering in me like waves of fire. I have just killed a wolf, my first wolf.\r\n\r\nBut a whole pack is after my mother.\r\n\r\nI turn around and run as fast as I can, following the tracks. After a while, my legs grow heavy as if full of water, my hands buzz from the cold, and my chest hurts with worry for her. I swallow my tears; the frozen, black and white kingdom around me blurry.\r\n\r\nAnd then, too soon, or an eternity later, I find her.\r\n\r\nBlood in the mashed snow leads towards a line of trees. And there, lies a hill of brown flesh. The horse.\r\n\r\nMy heart stops. My ears ring. The world turns to ice. I cease to live for a moment.\r\n\r\nNext to the horse, my mother\u2026what is left of her.\r\n\r\nThe wolves are gone\u2014if they were here, I would kill every single one of them or let them have me.\r\n\r\nStaggering towards her, I sink to my knees by her side. Her beautiful, blue eyes are fixed on the stars, but they do not see them.\r\n\r\nShe died protecting me. She lead the pack away, and she took my death. My curse. The punishment the gods intended for me.\r\n\r\nHow will I live without her?<\/em>\r\n\r\nA tear crawls down my cheek, but it does not burn, the cold does not chill me. I feel nothing.\r\n\r\nShe must have a proper burial. I cut the biggest pine branch I can see and lay her body on it.\r\n\r\nI walk. I follow the horse\u2019s trail, pulling the branch behind me like a sled. My lungs burn, but my body is numb. I walk until the late winter sunrise colors the sky in gentle pink, like my mother\u2019s cheeks used to be on a cold day. I walk farther, and it is almost noon when I pass the sacred grove that is just a short walk from the village.\r\n\r\nThe streets are empty. The scent of woodsmoke rising from the holes of the roofs mixed with frost is foreign. My vision blurs and the ground shifts.\r\n\r\nI head straight towards the mead hall. The doors fly open, warm air burns my face. Gasps run across the hall. People sitting around the central hearth, and on the mead-benches, watch me as if I am Hel herself, their eyes round, their faces ashen.\r\n\r\nMy father looks like he has aged a hundred years. Jarl Nyr\u2019s frown is as deep as a crack in a mountain. I take my mother\u2019s body under the armpits and drag her inside. People touch their Mj\u00f6lnir\u2019sfor protection.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d Father\u2019s whisper thunders in the dead silence of the hall.\r\n\r\nThe words hit my numbness, and it crumbles like the wall of ice. Pain flushes through me, squeezing my muscles, my heart aching. My mouth opens and closes, the ache in my heart chokes me, and my arms tighten around my mother\u2019s body.\r\n\r\nHe moves towards me. \u201cIt is you.\u201d His voice rolls through the quiet mead hall like thunder. \u201cYour curse. The gods cursed you, and yet everyone around you must pay!\u00a0She<\/em>\u00a0must pay\u2026\u201d\r\n\r\nHis words hit me, ringing inside my head.\r\n\r\n\u201cLook what you have done to her\u2026\u201d He takes her gently from me, and my arms fall.\r\n\r\nEvery pair of eyes spear me as if I have just brought Ragnar\u00f6k on them, the end of the world. I must look like death to them, bloody-snow caked on my clothes, deep scratches on my face.\r\n\r\nThe snarling wolf\u2019s head birthmark around my eye must glow like molten iron to them.\r\n\r\nMy mark. My bad luck.<\/em>\r\n\r\nMy gaze meets Jarl Nyr\u2019s, and for the first time, I see the fear in his eyes. \u201cYou are full of surprises, are you not, boy? The mark on your eye was a sign.\u201d He pauses for a moment, then adds softly, \u201cYou are a beast.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe last word echoes throughout the hall. It saturates the air, mixes with my sweat, my hair, and seeps into my skin.\r\n\r\nMy heart whispers it with every thump.\r\n\r\nBeast<\/em>.\r\n\r\nCursed by the gods and the people. Rejected by his own father. The son who killed his mother.\r\n\r\nHakon the Beast.\r\n\r\nCopyright \u00a9 2019 by Mariah Stone<\/strong>\r\n\r\nAll rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.<\/strong>","books_featureposition":"notfeatured","books_featuredescription":"","books_seriesnumber":""},"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mariahstone.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/books\/30805","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mariahstone.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/books"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mariahstone.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/books"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mariahstone.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/32317"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mariahstone.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=30805"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"series","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mariahstone.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/series?post=30805"},{"taxonomy":"trope","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mariahstone.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/trope?post=30805"},{"taxonomy":"genre","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mariahstone.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/genre?post=30805"},{"taxonomy":"audiobooks","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mariahstone.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/audiobooks?post=30805"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}