The Troll Queen's Bride

The Troll Queen's Bride

By:  Allister Nelson  Ongoing
Language: English
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Three fated lovers: a shieldmaiden, a Troll Queen, and a Valkyrie. One price: the fate of all Midgard. Turiel is crown princess, but from the outlawed Northern Holds, bloodbound to Troll Queen Jarngrimr, and best friends with the stablelass Yolanda, her first love - until her poison kiss turned Yola into a Valkyrie, and whisks Yolanda from Turiel's grasp. Now, Turiel has been stolen into wily Queen Jarngrimr's realm, with only the goddess Skadhi and Yola - back from the dead! - to guide her. Lussi, the Snow King, craves a bride - and it is Dia's troth alone. Dia, the last blood mage from the line of the Isa, is all that is left of Turiel's legacy. Dia has been raised as Lussi's Magdalene - his ritual Bride - and ritual Slayer - for the past three years. Every Winter Solstice, Lussi can die, and Dia must kill him. But as Dia falls deeper into Lussi's sexy web - and in love - her heart is on the line! Other works and Ko-Fi: linktr.ee/avnelson

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57 chapters
Prologue: A Flowering Thorn
Thick ebon blood boiled in the veins of the Troll Queen, black as congealed tar.The Beast's curse was bearing fruit.Queen Jarngrimr of the Sorrows waited on the frosty tip of Utgardr's tallest mountain, her steed - a blue roan marked with a white death mask, the gallows itself incarnate - whinnying as the Troll Queen's awaited visitor hiked past the mountain laurel and fir, the girl's stang helping with her belabored, fitful steps."I am here, dearest Jarnja. I brought you Lady Freida's most sacred treasure, stolen from the sanctum of her hall Folkvangr in Valhalla for a terrible price. It is all for you, in return for protection for my three children. This cursed rose is my only possession after this godsdamned truce, sweet Jarnja of the Sorrows, daughter of Wotan the Raven and Sithgunt the Seeress, guardian of the Isa tribe of my land of the midnight sun. Please. I have nothing left to give but the petals of this godsvow."The princess
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Hagalaz
As I stand in the Beast's rose garden, years down the line, I remember my first love. The thorns are aflame, the sky is scorching, and my heart is torn in twain:Between the Troll Queen, and my first love, once mortal, now a handmaiden of the warrior goddess.This is how my tale begins:We were sixteen summers old, but time for me, and my soon to be Valkyrie, was never enough.We strayed to the banks of the Maroon Sea Bay by midnight, my best friend and true heart's companion, the stable lass Yolanda, glimmering under Mani's moonlight like a Valkyrie of Mother Freida the Wanderer's own dauntless making. She was chosen by the Goddess for glory, after all.My sweetheart, the Lady of Love and Luck's fierce devotee, was bold and free and wild as she rode aback her stallion like a sunburst striking the gods' rainbow bridge of Bifrost, high in the stars above.Yolanda's long, wild, velvet black hair was a curling bear's man
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Spirited Away
That was the night - the first rosy night that my Beast began to call on me, and never, ever, ever did my monstress queen cease drawing me down submerged in to her unholy, trollish web.Now, I am never alone.By the candlelight after Skadhi had carried me to my room, me unable to stand, I slit my wrists that gloaming, my prayers to dead mama, Queen Aslaugh, unanswered.I could not give up the ghost. No, I was the Troll Queen's draugr – an undead scion, cursed. Now, I was of the zombie armies that had eaten father's berserkers alive.A grave of a girl. Belonging to none other than Jarngrimr of the Sorrows from mother's ill-fated curse, last of the Cunningfolk witches.The Beast peered back at me in my looking glass, the Troll Queen's red dead eyes cold and lustful. She smirked, a yellow fang agleam as she watched me with wicked delight and decrepit fascination.I picked at the black, black clots of blood, ignorin
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In the Grimnr Shadow
"Come back with my letter from Dominic! Don't you dare read it," Yuri squealed, chasing Rosy out of my room at high horsepower full throttle down the tower hall.The windows had opened of their own volition, and a ferocious winter gale picked up, blowing my door slammed shut behind my wee sisters.The mourning dove's holly berries began to bleed, and the well fed bird discarded the overripe succulents onto my floor.The mourning dove fled to the peal of an elfin horn:"What was that call, just now? And that insurmountable wind like lindworm breath?" I murmured to myself, shuddering as I looked out the window:In rode a terrible train of huldre, Jotun, alfar and dokkalfar, dwarves, nixie, mara and trolls of the Dark Court from the depths of the woods. The Cunningfolk's allies in the Northern Holds of Utgardr, and Arcadia's sworn enemies.What were they doing here? How in Helheim did they get past mama's Magick barrier
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Skadhi
I was in a blue huntswoman's dress with red and white trim, the traditional Isa attire coupled with brown snowshoes, standing atop an icy fjord as winter snow piled high and impenetrable onto the mountain's blue gray peak.My patroness stood before me, ells tall like the wall around Asgard, as icy as the snow itself.The As goddess Skadhi, lady of the hunt, winter and skis, with her white wolves stood sentinel over me, and I knew it a familiar dream. Skadhi was the ancient patroness of my mama Aslaugh's Northern Cunningfolk tribe, the Isa. Known for her icy demeanor, wry humor, and frosty dominion, she was unparalleled among huntresses, and always made sure I knew it, too. She grew up saying she had hunted my soul from the Maroon Sea, and claimed me as her mead dark priestess, just as she had mama years before.Skahdi came to me in dreams often to teach me of my Magick, and as I stood in Northern Cunningfolk garb atop the glacial terrain, my breath s
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Mara
I jolted awake. There was a heavy weight on my chest, and damp soily hands squeezing my throat. My larynx popped."Oh, so the ridiculously clothed blonde awakes. Praise the gods, it's about damn time. Really, you're wearing minx of all things? Have you forgotten your Cunningfolk roots, what my kind and your kind are? We wear reindeer and leather and bearskin. We are wolves among sheep. We are lions among lambs. We are lindworms among caterpillars. And yet here you are, the simpering teenage princess the Queen is so infatuated with. You sleep as hard as if someone hit you over that thick skull of yours with a horse! Wotan's old eight-legged Sleipnir, in fact. Either that, or Wotan hurled Gugnir into your head and knocked you out!"I struggled for breath.She continued, my strangling demon: "Dear scheming Jarngrimr hasn't stopped blathering on about you since you were conceived. Tithe to Utgardr, she says, your blood the bridge between Arcadia and the
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Helvegen
Rosy clung close to my skirts as Fylja opened the long ebony doors to Jarngrimr's feast hall. Inside was a crystalline long hall lit by celestial blue Isa fire and otherworldly elfin plants that gave off strange, translucent glows. Nixies, fossegrim, wili, mara, dwarves, alfar, duergar, dokkalfar, and trolls danced among the huldrefolk and luxuriously dressed Northern Cunningfolk. A fossegrim fiddled on a golden violin, and there was a great frenzy of mead in horns as berserkers celebrated the capture of the princesses with their shieldmaidens in a tarantic reel, stomping the ground, feasting like the fire god Logi devouring an entire boar in Loki's eating contest.Jarngrimr of the Sorrows loomed over the long hall atop a lindworm bone throne, the great dragon skull carved at the snout to sit her beastly form. She smirked, her eyes collier fire, and watched me languorously, predatorily tracing the slight, delicate curves of my gown with her slit pupils like iron claws. Sh
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Gullinkambi
Queen Jarngrimr outstretched her taloned hand in invitation, her red eyes settled to a lustful maroon, and she smiled lopsidedly, as if she were Scarlip's daughter. I drew back, drawing my ivory dagger.Jarngrimr flinched, sighed, then sloshed the mead in her cup."You are still afraid of me." She licked some mead off the rim. I fixated on her cat rough tongue, then blushed, flummoxed."I'm not afraid of anyone." I lit the blade with Kenaz, fire."That wasn't a question, snowflower," the Troll Queen drawled, then yipped with laughter. Her furred breasts heaved and her mane sparkled in the blue light of the glowing fungus and Isa fire. "I can smell fear. It pulsates through your veins. Child, I am not here to harm you. I am here to drive infidel Latinate gods from Arcadia and the Northern Holds alike. King Hakkon betrayed his folk by burning his soul as offerings to Eleleth's fires, and now he is tyrant over the priests and Cunningfolk and
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Draugr
"Your Magick is stronger than my frost duckling Aslaugh's own peerless powers..." Heith murmured, meeting Jarnja's eyes with a knowing look. She crossed herself with Othala. "It is true, what the Watermen say: Loki roams free, and Skadhi has seen fit to grant her disciple Gullinkambi, the Cockerel of Ragnarok. This can only mean pain lies ahead for Midgardr, Utgardr, and all the nine realms." Heith's antlered, beaded headdress swayed as if in sorrow, and Jarnja looked upon her in sympathy, squeezing the Isa chieftainess' hand delicately in her powerful bergresar paws."We are prepared this time, dearest Isa chieftainess. We have the covenant between Utgardr and Midgadr here - Aslaugh's promise, enfleshed in the body of my Bride," Jarnja burbled like a wolf, her sparkling red eyes drinking me down in pleasure.Jarnja pet Gullinkambi, and my fetch crowed in approval, my soul fond - more than fond - of the intimidating Bergresar Queen. "Gullinkambi could be seen a
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Nauthiz
Skadhi stood over Yolanda's corpse, like a bog body in an estuary of the Maroon Sea bay. She held a single tallow, the wax dripping onto her thumb."All is not as it seems, and the dead are far from rest," Skadhi said ominously, then lit Yolanda's corpse on fire. It burned with sickly green helafire. The goblin fire scorched her free of rot, and from the waters, Yolanda's spirit emerged, a sylph of a Valkyrie, shielded and helmeted, aback a winged steed. She raised a spear high and then, struck me through my rotten heart.For the first time in three years, I bled – red, like the pomegranates of Latinium. Like their Devil Jahi's crimson heart as she was exiled from Eleleth's Heaven.But it was only a dream of lost love.I awoke to Gullinkambi's crowing. Bleary-eyed, I stretched lazily, then opened my eyelids to find Fylja bouncing on the tips of her heels. She opened the blinds to let in the mountai
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