Ice Queen

This flash piece is a rough draft of scenes from the prequel novel of The Prophecies of Ragnarok, a Norse mythology based new adult series I'm currently writing with Meri Benson. It may or may not end up in the final version of the novel. This was also written in response to 8Letters' #31Letters challenge, an invitation to write every day for the whole month of January.

Here are the shorts we've written so far for the prequel, in chronological order:

• Birthright
• Ice Queen (this story)
• Brother's Keeper
• Final Hour
• Resistance and Steps
• Forsaken
• Goodbye, Good Friend
• Inheritance
• A Winter's Bargain
• Death Finds All
• Homecoming
• Reconnection
• The Hour of the Wolf

Hotel Fen, the first published book of the series, follows after this point.

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In Norse mythology, Hel is said to preside over an underworld realm where she receives a portion of the dead. She is referred to as a daughter of Loki, and is described as having been appointed by the god Odin as ruler of a realm of the same name, located in Niflheim. Her appearance is described as half blue and half flesh-colored, and further as having a gloomy, downcast appearance.

Hodr is the blind son of Odin and Frigg, who is tricked and guided by Loki into shooting a mistletoe arrow which was to slay the otherwise invulnerable Baldr, his twin brother.

(Wikipedia)

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"What is he doing here?"

At six years old, Geiravor already knew that her father had another family, one that he loved more than her and her mother. "Some ties are stronger than blood, little one," he'd told her once before, when he'd sat her down to explain his situation. "Someday, you will understand."

But Loki's continued absence did not foster understanding, only resentment. The stories didn't help, either. It had been a long time since, but the Jotnar continued to talk about her grandfather, Laufey, and his reign over their lands. It had been an era of peace and prosperity, when the great houses of Jotunheim and the families they served and protected wanted for nothing — until the Aesir invaded, and their barbarian king Borr took away the young prince Loki to live as one of theirs forevermore.

"I will never be like him." It was a promise Geiravor had made not just to herself, but also to her mother, her mother's relatives, and her friends. She might still be young, but she had already been taught her place in the worlds. She had been raised in the ways of the Jotnar. She knew their history, and she had learned to harness their magic. She had been to the ruins of her grandfather's palace, where headless corpses knelt before her and promised their fealty. She would, one day, become Queen, and she would not betray her people as her father had betrayed them.

So when she returned to her home one late afternoon and found her father lounging comfortably by the fire, she straightened her back and squared her shoulders and demanded to know why he had come. He rarely visited, after all.

"Am I not allowed to visit my children anymore?"

She refused to acknowledge her father, staring expectantly at her mother instead.

Angrboda sighed. After a moment she pushed herself up from her seat and walked over to Geiravor, crouching to look at her in the eyes. "You are an absolute mess," she said instead, plucking out a dried leaf that had been stuck to her blond hair. But her tone wasn't admonishing. "Was your quest successful?"

It was her mother's way of getting her to talk even if she didn't really want to. She could never stop herself from recounting her misadventures. She was a proud little girl, and rightly so. "It was. Skadi took me to the ruins."

Angrboda picked her up like she weighed nothing and, returning to her place by the fire, settled her down on her knee. Across them, Loki watched. "Ruins? Which one?"

Geiravor glanced at her father, then she raised her chin and proclaimed, "Laufey's Palace." For a child she spoke so matter-of-factly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "And I sat on the throne."

"That place is haunted," Loki interjected with a laugh.

Face flushing, Geiravor turned to glare at him. Her green eyes burned fiercely in the firelight. "It is not." She didn't understand what was so funny. And she especially did not understand that Loki, at that moment, had been protecting himself from the memory of his father's demise — as well as his own.

"What is he doing here?" she asked her mother again.

Her parents stared at each other in silence, and she knew they were about to lie. She pushed herself off her mother's lap and drew herself up to her full height, which, at that age, wasn't very much.

But she was surprised to find her father's face buried in his hands. It took at least a full minute before Loki lifted his head, and when he did, he looked defeated. "I..." He sucked in a breath between his teeth. "I have come to take you to Asgard."

Asgard was where her father's other family lived.

"We will all be together again. You, and Fenris, and Jor—"

"Loki," Angrboda interrupted in a tone that Geiravor had heard far too many times in her young life. It was the voice her mother used to warn her not to do something dangerous and stupid. Like sneak off to the woods alone, or leave home without a weapon in hand.

Or lie.

"You three and I, we..." Loki amended, looking pained.

"And Mother?"

Loki shook his head. "The Allfather—"

A voice rang in her head then, that of one of her cousins, recounting the stories. The barbarian king Borr took away the young prince Loki to live as one of theirs forevermore...

"I will not go!" little Geiravor screamed, tears springing to her eyes. She balled her hands into fists and prepared for a fight. "You cannot make me!"

- ✵ -

They made her, anyway. Oh, how Geiravor fought. She cried and yelled and made a great deal of noise well into the night. Then she tried to run away. And when even that didn't work, she refused to speak to either of her parents. She did as she was told, but she grew cold and distant as the days passed. Only her siblings were not subjected to her frosty demeanor; in fact, she started acting more like a mother than a big sister to them.

She, with her siblings in tow, arrived in Asgard with red-rimmed eyes but with otherwise a countenance so dispassionate, her face might as well have been carved from ice. She was well-mannered for the most part, but her motions were mechanical; even at the feast Odin the Allfather held in her honor, she kept her silence and glowered at everyone. Frigg, the Queen of the Realms, had come to sit by her and try to cheer her up, with her twin boys in tow, but other than the customary exchange of greetings, Geiravor simply ignored them.

She continued to show up during mealtimes as she'd been commanded, herding her younger brother Fenris, but she carried on with her silence. Sometimes she would be caught observing the large group of Aesir and halflings gathered in the hall, but she would never engage. Watch and learn she did, however. Those living in Odin’s gleaming palace had their purpose and their place, and she tried to learn them the best she could — soon she knew that Baldr, one of Frigg's twins and a boy not much older than her, was beloved by all; that everyone wanted to earn Odin's favor and would attempt to do so at every opportunity; and that her father, Loki, was not always welcome, even among the family he’d forsaken his true kin for.

But she would disappear during the day, climbing up a tree just outside Valhalla and hiding behind the leaves and branches for hours at a time. She hated nearly everything and everyone around her, and the solitude was a welcome respite. Often she would imagine that she and her siblings were back in Jotunheim, reunited with her mother and her friends and once more going on adventures. Asgard was too bright, too organized, too perfect, and it annoyed her to no end. Sometimes she would even cry.

Perhaps it was her crying that gave away her hiding place, for one morning, she climbed up her tree and saw that she wasn't alone. A boy, only just a little older than her, was already sitting on the thick branch she usually occupied. In his hands were a small clump of strange flowers. They looked like their petals had frosted over, and in the sunlight they gleamed silver.

She eyed him warily but said nothing. Unwilling to relinquish her tree, she decided, for the time being, to occupy a branch on the other side of the trunk instead. But she was not leaving. She found the tree first. It was hers. Nobody was taking it away from her, not even a prince.

He offered her the flowers. They were freshly picked, their stems still joined to their roots, and with bits of soil and all. "Mother said you miss your home." His voice was quiet, like one talking to a spooked horse.

She huffed, her nose wrinkling in displeasure. "I do not." She refused to look at him. She made no move to accept his gift, either.

They sat in silence.

"I'm Hodr," the boy said after a moment.

"I don't care."