Ragnar Lothbrok Novels & Stories

I walked up the spiral stairs. The library was big enough to fit 300 people here, it was created by the King of Rosla for people who needed resources and documents to study. The King of Rosla is a powerful king who ruled the country, he made this country like heaven thanks to his son's intelligence. He has 4 sons, three of them were neglected by the king except for the third prince. Prince Rhyker. The Prince is a brilliant person since he was a kid, he showed amazing information and had looks that were amazed by the women here in Rosla.

he was standing guarding a very old man beside him. That old man was called Lin Xue, he was the founder and first leader of the Snow Lotus Sect. he was one of the most formidable cultivators in the Northern mainland, and he was the only Sect's first founder capable of living hundreds of years. His achievements in the world of the martial jungle were great and he is still feared and recognized for his prowess by every sect that knows his name.

Every legend has its hidden face and every myth is polished by the language of the poets who tell it. Ragnar Lodbrok's epic is therefore no exception. Contrary to what is known from the story of the illustrious and legendary king and warrior; Ragnar Lodbrok did not come into the world with the common physical characteristics of the Vikings whom we know as strong, tall and combative. He was born a hunchback: the bitter fruit of a second trick and a challenge that Loki gave to Hoder, the "blind god" of Asgard.

I have started a lie too late for the truth now. “The rogue’s numbers have significantly increased, it seems that wolves like the idea of a non-traditional pack”, snarling in disgust he began pacing back and forth. “Apparently his quite handsome and charismatic”. “Father, there is no way The Rogues will ever outnumber our pack” furrowing my brow in confusion. I had never seen my father this nervous about a rival pack, the Red Crescents had always been the largest pack in the southern hemisphere, as one of the five original werewolf packs our bloodline was royal, and the pack was one that garnered respect.

I broke free of Jarnja's arms as the summer heat of the yellow rose intensified, my breaths coming hot and heavy at the touch of her lips. The cockerel of Ragnarok, my fetch Gullinkambi, crowed to herald Sunna's bright apex in the sky as noon settled its dry bones across the mountain kingdom of Utgardr.

Ragnar declared in his husky voice, his frigid gaze piercing through George as he continued to scream and scream. "Please, Alpha, forgive me!" George's screams echoed through the dungeon, but Ragnar remained unyielding. He allowed his foot to slice through George's finger before finally removing it, causing a torrent of blood to spurt forth. Even as he beheld the gruesome sight, Ragnar's burning desire for vengeance threatened to consume him. George had hurt his mate, manipulated her against him, and for that, Ragnar yearned to end him. However, one thing stayed his hand—Aloha's act of offering him blood. It was a testament that she still cared.

"Who would emerge victorious? Eryndor's thunderous roar sent shockwaves through the troop, his dark magic unleashing a maelstrom of fury. The ground trembled beneath their feet as he struggled to break free from Jack's spear. But Jack's grip held firm, his determination and strength fueled by his troop's safety. The spear's power coursed through him, amplifying his resolve. Jack's troops fought valiantly, but Eryndor's assault was relentless. One by one, they fell, their bodies battered and bruised. Thane, the beta, stumbled back, his eyes wide with fear. "Jack, we can't hold much longer!" Jack’s voice staggered. Luna's voice rose above the chaos, her howl a desperate cry for help. "Jack wol

Nine was their sacred number since it connected the nine realms that existed within Yggdrasil. “I choose Gungnir, the great spear of Odin, Angurvadal, the stream of anguish, Gram, who brought death to Fafnir, Freyr’s sword, to fight when I am weak, Dáinsleif, to inflict wounds that never heal, Lævateinn, so that my step will never falter, Skofnung, the supernatural blade, Hǫfuð, the great sword of Heimdall and lastly Mjolnir.” Malachi chose his nine gifts and the rest were returned to the vault. These gifts would be sent to his house in Seward and he knew Jessica would banish them to his study.

It has to be him, behind the anonymous messages, the only one that knows my secret, exposed me to the pack so that he could have me for himself. I shove him back, shaking with anger. Ragnar steps back. He lifts an eyebrow. "Not exactly the thank you I was expecting, seeing as I saved you from certain death." "You're no different! You only want something from me." "Now it doesn't have to be like that," Ragnar says, his voice dripping with silk, even as he bends to pick up the knife. "Greater things are at stake. Half of my territory are being invaded by a bunch of rogues. The Red fang, crimson moon pack..." He pauses, stepping closer, his fingers tracing down my cheeks almost delicately.

Within mere moments, moans and wet sounds began to fill the room and Fallon Shepard patted the head of a female like a dog as she crawled on all fours to his side and began parting his robes from his body. “You probably have heard of them from ancient Norse texts perhaps; maybe in history museums as mere figments of legends. I know them as kin though. You might have heard them referred to as The Fenrir Wolf and his children- Sköll and Hati Hróðvitnisson. Hati is our sire, or otherwise known as the Devourer of the Moon.” He threw off his robe and only had one deep blue stone on a chain around his neck, the light glistening off of the afghanite stone. He grabbed the female’s head, bringing her