Revenge Served with Rage

This flash piece is a rough draft of a scene from the prequel novel of The Prophecies of Ragnarok, a Norse mythology-based new adult series I'm currently writing with Marie Sinadjan. It may or may not end up in the final version of the novel.

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

• Birthright
• Ice Queen
• Prison Break
• Brother's Keeper
• Final Hour
• Resistance and Steps
• Forsaken
• Revenge Served with Rage (this story)
• 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.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Hodr didn’t know where inside him it had snapped, but he found himself outside the palace and at the little cottage Loki called home. Garmr bounded around his feet, shoulder of his large hound keeping him from tripping over any of the roots of trees or branches by nudging him this way or that. It had been about a month since the pair had been set together and it had definitely helped to get Hodr up. His heart still ached, he still held onto the memories tightly, but he was at least out of bed consistently now.

Yrsa had taken to pushing him for a little training every other day. She was slow to start because he needed to learn to use his other senses, but they’d fallen into a rhythm too. The only other person he’d not complained or gotten angry for being around him was the Einherjar Yrsa was seeing.

None of his brothers were allowed near him, ice forming at his feet the second they came near or tried to talk to him. He didn’t want it. Didn’t want to deal with them. But while the training and Garmr helped, his anger still hadn’t started to quiet. Most days, even without provocation, Hodr could feel the ice just at his fingertips, begging to be used. To be honed into something that could be used to kill.

A howl sounded as he moved up to the cottage door, and before he could knock, Garmr nudged him to the side as he answered the call in his own barked howl. Hodr’s hand came to rest on his companion’s shoulder with a grunt. Though he has learned to follow the lead easily when nudged. If only to not be knocked over.

The hound nudged him around the side of the house to the back. The smell of meat cooking but his nose as his head tilted. Steak he was pretty sure.

“We’re not sharing.” Fenris’ voice held a growl to it.

Garmr growled in return but Hodr soothed the friend gently. “I didn’t know you’d be eating right now.”

The grill sizzled as Hodr heard something hit the flame. The smell of cooked meat grew more prominent and made Hodr’s stomach growl a little. “What were you looking for, Odinson?” Loki’s voice came quietly, almost a growl but too tired to follow through.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. I just.” His hand ran through his long hair, no one had braided or pulled it back today for him. “I couldn’t be there anymore. I needed to get out from under everyone telling me I’m spelled and remembering wrong.”

A hum came from Loki, but he didn’t actually say anything in response.

Fenris gave a huffed growl that Garmr answered. “That seems to be Asgard’s opinion of you.”

The words didn’t sit well with Hodr and he bared his teeth at the shifter with a small snarl. “It’s not the truth though!” Frost crept along the grass around his feet, unable to hold in his frustration. “Everyone keeps telling me that I don’t remember wrong. That she wasn’t real. Geiravor was real! I remember my wife!”

His magic blasted out from him but he felt it hit almost a bubble, keeping the frost contained and away from where he could hear Loki tending the meet. “If you’re going to pout and explode, do it away from dinner,” Loki murder almost lazily. “Or let Fen show you how he’s been handling his rage.”

Garmr whined softly and rested heavily against Hodr’s leg, drawing his hand down to rest in Garmr’s fur to give the hound comfort.

“You didn’t tell me I’m spell…” The realization pulled some of Hodr’s frustration down a little as he waited for one of them to tell him he was actually spelled.

The bench Fenris was sitting on creaked as he stood up, and the frost on the grass crunched under his boots as he moved to Hodr. “You really think we can forget family? We remember my sister.”

“We remember your marriage in Jotunheim, too,” Loki offered. Silence stretched between the three of them for a moment. “We weren’t sure if you did, or your hermit act was because of your eyes.”

They remembered her. They remembered he has married her. That meant, “So you remember…”

Loki flipped one of the steaks, sending a loud sizzle that cut him off. “Yes. But best not mentioned.”

Of course, because the last thing they needed was Odin finding out. Hodr sighed softly, fingers petting Garmr. “Right.”

A hand came down on Hodr’s shoulder, “Come on. Let me show you what I’ve been doing while dad cooks dinner.”

The two walked into the forest a little ways before Fenris caught Hodr’s elbow to bring him to a stop. “Rage isn’t going to bring her back.” He helped Hodr feel the large trunk, the jagged edges where it had been ripped into pieces. “Here. Throw it.”

The words were said before Fenris put a large rock into Hodr’s hands. “Throw it?”

“Throwing and destroying helps.” Amusement started to fill Fenris’ words a little. “And it’s better than wallowing. Now throw it,” he shifted Hodr’s stance a little, pointing him in a direction, not that Hodr could see. “There. Hard. With everything you have.”

Hodr took a slow breath, feeling weird being told to throw something he couldn’t see. But a nudge from Fenris, he sighed the breath out. A nod told Fenris he would.

Winding up, he pitched the stone into the frost before him. It whistled through the air, hitting a tree with a hard smack of wood cracking. Something in him felt better. “Okay, I get why you're enjoying this.” Because he also had the urge to find something else he could throw growing stronger.

“I’ve been coming out here, every night to keep my rage from trying to take a new hand from one of your other brothers.” Fenris sighed. “I wasn’t, we weren’t sure you remembered any of her.”

Hodr shifted toward a large tree trunk, while he didn’t have sight he could feel the frost magic and where things blocked it. “Throwing doesn’t help me much. I can’t see where I’m throwing.” But he liked the idea of doing something out here. His stance settled into a defensive position and he brought his fist into the bark of the tree. The trunk was thick enough it took the strike well. And took it well when he repeated the hit several times.

“Hitting works just as well,” Fenris offered as he watched Hodr continue ram his fists into the tree, slowly making a dent into the trunk. “If you don’t want to take the tree down though, I would circle a little so it stands up longer to the beating.”

Hodr and Fenris continued in the forest together like that for a while, getting out some of the rage and anger, until they both heard a loud, “Dinner!”

Garmr and Fenris lead Hodr back down to the cottage and Fenris helped Hodr get a seat at the table.

“So. Now that you’re done moping, shall we discuss revenge?” Loki set a plate down in front of Hodr, and then Hodr heard him bend to give Garmr a plate. “Wallowing and rage won’t help against your father. We need to be a lot more subtle with him after all the years he has had.”

Hodr nodded as he listens to Fenris take a seat next to him, a hand clapping his back again. “We will make sure he pays though.”

Hodr shook his head, but the lift to his mouth was dangerous more than it was a smile. Fitting the chaos and mischief Loki and Fenris could manifest themselves. “I’m ready to plot, plan, and bring an end to him.”

Loki chuckled finally, the sound dark. “Oh, we will, my sons.”