Hela Takes a Holiday

  Hela Takes a Holiday

  Rebekah Lewis

  Contents

  Quote

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  An Excerpt From: A Christmas Reunion

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Books by Rebekah Lewis

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Editing by Sandra Sookoo

  Cover Art by Victoria Miller

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  Copyright © 2018 by Rebekah Lewis

  All rights reserved.

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  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Printed in the United States of America

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  www.Rebekah-Lewis.com

  For Sandra Sookoo, my wonderful editor.

  Your guidance and kindness mean the world to me.

  "Vast, cold, and empty were the halls of the Snow Queen."

  -Hans Christian Andersen, "The Snow Queen"

  Prologue

  The Fortress of Hel, Niflheim.

  Ice crystalized on the pillars of Hela's throne room as she watched the rise and fall of Níðhöggr's chest while the great frost dragon slumbered at the roots of Yggdrasil. So dull was her company that even a dragon gave up its one task—gnawing through the roots that tethered him to this realm—and slept. Hela could not blame the creature, for she could scarcely stand the sound of her pacing as she wandered through the fortress her father, Loki, along with the Æsir had built for her.

  "It is a great honor to be given your own realm to rule over as you wish," Loki had said. "Even Thor has not been offered such a gift. He is forced to remain on Asgard with the rest of us."

  Hela wasn't sure gift described the situation all that well. More like prison. A punishment for her status. Sure, she was part-giant by birth, but unlike her beastly brothers Jörmungandr and Fenrir, she could pass as a god or mortal without fail due to her appearance and height. Since giants were prone to violent natures, however, the Æsir didn't trust her despite the fact that Hela had never so much as swatted an insect for daring to fly too close on the rare occasion anything crawled so low on Yggdrasil. Instead, while everyone she'd ever known was forced to live together, she was shunned and trapped in a world of ice, darkness, and death. Where she feared she would be as cold and unyielding as the frost surrounding her if she wasn't already. Even her skin and lips had taken on a bluish hue from the cold she felt but didn't suffer from.

  "What has my daughter pacing the halls of Helheim this day?"

  With a gasp, Hela whirled around and spotted her father leaning against one of the icy pillars with his arms crossed over his chest. His black leather tunic and trousers stark against the pale snowy white and blue of her fortress behind him.

  She didn't dare betray her excitement at having someone to talk to. Loki found her yearning for interaction unsavory. Unbefitting of the queen of the dead. Instead, she tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "Niflheim."

  Loki frowned. "Hela… How many times do I have to tell you? If you want to invoke fear and respect, the name of your realm should be bold. Naming it for yourself does that."

  Always the same argument. He had been the one to name the fortress Hel, trying to sway others to refer to Niflheim as Helheim instead. Why didn't he respect her desire to leave it alone? "I do not wish to invoke fear and respect. I would rather leave this realm and explore the other eight." How she lived in a world of cold, stale death and ached for warmth and light, she didn't know. She dreamed of experiencing life the way the souls who ventured through her hallowed halls had. To understand why they begged her for a second chance. Why mortals and gods alike wished her to break the laws of nature and release a soul back to Midgard or Asgard or whatever realm it came from. "At least one of them. Any of them."

  Well, mayhap not Muspelheim, with the fire giants who longed for war against the rest of the nine worlds, most of all Asgard. Yet, the others…

  Loki shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "You are sheltered and inexperienced despite the many centuries you have lived." Mayhap because nothing ever changes! She resented being called inexperienced, even if it rang true. "One day, you will grow out of this impudence and embrace your birthright. You, of all my children, are the only one to be treated respectfully by the others. Why would you risk ruining that by going out into the world to be corrupted?"

  What her father failed to grasp was that although she happened to be his only offspring who looked like the other gods, that didn't make her one of them. Loki himself wasn't Æsir—nor was she—but only half-god. Odin loved him as a son, so he was given the leisure of living in Asgard. A leisure he took for granted by scheming and tricking those who cared about him. One day it would fall apart around him, but for the time being, she remained jealous of all he had and she lacked. Like the freedom to travel from realm to realm. To live and love among the mortals. To experience. Mayhap she craved life because death was all she knew. It didn't make her long for it any less.

  Looking wary of their constant argument, Loki asked, "What would it take for you to be happy, my daughter?"

  She turned to the great hearth, where the blue flames flickered as she spoke without thinking, "To live a different life for a while." Hela drew her gaze upward at his reflection in the scattered shards of a great mirror that hung upon the wall above the mantle in millions of slivers rather than a single whole. It was fitting, seeing as how her spirit felt just as broken and spread thin. She needed something more. The mirror also reminded her of the mortals on Midgard, so easily broken yet reflecting so much light before dimming to reside here, with her, in the shadows of frosted eternity.

  "I wish to be mortal. That way I could make my own decisions and live how I please. I have never requested this reign over the dead. I was not born into it. It was created because the Æsir didn't know what else to do with me." Sure, her brothers were beasts in form, but what had she ever done to frighten them? She had grown out of the anger, but the bitterness remained.

  Loki didn't respond for long moments. So long, in fact, that Hela thought he might have left, but then he rested his hand upon her shoulder and a gentleness she was not used to from him eased the tightness of her muscles at the contact. "Mortals are the biggest fools in all the nine realms. Why wish such a thing?"

  She met his gaze once more. His eyes were a shade of blue so much darker and richer than the shade of her own. Yet where his hair was fair and golden, hers was dark, nearly black. They were opposites in every way, except by blood. "Because I have never stepped foot outside this fortress since I was a baby. I never had a chance to live, only serve."

  Releasing his hold on her shoulder he nodded. "I see. And should you experience mortal life and find it lacking—which it is—would you return here to Helheim without argument? Would you cease this madness?"

  She laughed nervously, twisting her hands together, and thankful the fidgeting would be hidden by the long, bell-shaped sleeves of her pale gray dress. "If I found it lacking, then aye. But I could fall i
n love… I would want to stay if that occurs." She smoothed a hand down her skirts. "I fear a simple taste would never be enough if that were the case." Perhaps it wasn't love she craved exactly, but a companion. Yet…those who tried to sway her to return a soul to the living always did so out of love. The concept both eluded and intrigued her. What would it feel like to love like that?

  Loki rubbed his chin and considered her words, and his sudden grin said all it needed to without him having to speak. He was concocting a scheme. "Say you fall in love, and they died, would you come back?"

  Hela narrowed her eyes. "If he lived his entire life and died of natural causes, sure." His answering cringe was all spectacle. One must always have care with phrasing around her father, lest he trick them without blinking an eye. Was he actually considering her wish?

  "The mortals who worship us believe death in battle is the best death. They wish to go to Valhalla, after all. Would you deny some poor mortal his chance to serve Odin in the battle of Ragnarök?" He winked. She wasn't buying his antics. Loki didn't probe for specifics unless he sought a way to undermine them, even if the trick was only in theory. Because she'd never be allowed to leave Niflheim. Who would guard her fortress in her stead?

  "Odin has plenty of warriors. I want one lover to spend a single lifetime with, so we can die of old age, hand and hand." The pleasant burn of satisfaction filled her, and any reluctance she had at forcing her father to listen to her tirade faded. She needed him to listen. He would listen.

  He snorted. "Romantic notion, sure. Unrealistic. A little selfish…"

  Hela scoffed at his dismissal, though she wouldn't be silenced anymore. Always the same arguments from him. Did he take anything seriously at all? "Father, I have lived alone my entire life. I do not believe wanting to live a long life with someone I love is selfish and unrealistic, but if it is, I do not really care."

  With a low chuckle, he nodded once and crossed his arms. "Done then."

  She blinked rapidly, taken aback by his sudden turn around. "What's done?"

  "I shall grant you twelve days in Midgard as a human. Without god powers or magic. I am certain the boredom will consume you by day three." He held up a palm when she opened her mouth to reply. Was he really going to let her leave? It would mean he'd have to keep an eye on her fortress and ensure the souls stayed where they belonged. Her thoughts scattered from responsibility to what it would be like on Midgard. "If you can win the heart of a mortal, I will personally protect him from death until old age and let the two of you die peacefully in your sleep."

  The breath she held came out in a whoosh. He was tricking her, without a doubt. "You must have some hidden condition you aren't telling me."

  Loki turned away as if he wanted to leave, but continued gazing at her out the corner of his eye. He definitely withheld something. Nevertheless, she would be free of Niflheim, even if it ended up being for a mere twelve days. One day alone would be a delight, and excitement overtook her.

  As far as powers went, enhanced senses and the ability to adapt quickly, as well as having knowledge of any language was inherit in all immortals unless he chose to limit what she retained. Having her magic bound would be more difficult to get used to since she had learned to control the elements in her boredom, and it came as second nature to make it snow harder when she was irritated or create a blizzard when she was exceptionally gloomy. She would happily give it up though, all of it.

  "What will you tell the Æsir?" she couldn't help but ask. They had given her this duty and fortress, not her father.

  Loki shrugged. "I prefer the humor in not telling them and then watching them squirm when they realize nobody's here but the dragon and a bunch of clueless souls." As if knowing he was being discussed, Níðhöggr grunted and opened his bright yellow eyes, training his gaze onto them both as saliva oozed out from under the fat root in his maw.

  Sometimes, Hela felt as trapped as the dragon trying to chew his way free from bonds so strong they never snapped apart. Hopefully her release into the wild would come with less terror and destruction, but she would be lying if she wasn't worried how the realm would handle her departure from the throne for twelve Midgardian days' time, and possibly longer, but the chance for freedom was at hand. She would prove to her father that she could survive on her own and she wasn't as inexperienced as he believed. And mayhap, just mayhap, she would have a mortal lifetime away from this frigid cell she called home.

  The anticipation had her so caught up in her hopes that she didn't think to ask why he had made it sound like there wouldn't be anyone replacing her while she was away.

  Chapter 1

  Norway, 997 A.D.

  Björn the Untouchable reclined against one of the many massive evergreen trees that covered the hillside overlooking the fjord below. The gods had blessed the village of Iskygge and its neighboring farms with fair weather the past few days. The snow had melted, though it still graced the mountains in the distance with its frozen embrace. He wrapped his furs tighter around himself and closed his eyes. A nap, or good night's sleep, would be most welcome, which was nearly impossible back home unless he drank enough to drown out the merriment in the village. Not with the celebrations in full swing already. The winter solstice was upon them, the first night of the Yule celebration.

  And noise. A lot of that. Sometimes, all Björn wanted was peace and quiet. A moment to himself. Time to not have to be the man the entire village held in such high regard. The one who would one day take over for his father, Birger the Wise, as jarl when that man made his way to Valhalla. He hoped the old man lived to be one hundred in years, for the role of jarl was painstakingly exhausting. More so than the farmers with their daily tasks, or the women taking care of households while their husbands were off to war or raids. Jarls had to oversee everything in their territory, answering only to the king. Birger had been grooming him for the position now that the struggle against Denmark's king seeking the Norwegian throne seemed to be, for the time being anyway, at an impasse. The Danes wouldn't stay away for long though. They never did.

  He cringed and opened his eyes at that thought. Because they'd had a few years with little activity in the form of fighting for the rule of Norway, his father believed he should take a wife and start a family of his own while there was time to enjoy it. Birger wished to announce Björn's intended on the final night of Yule. "Twelve days," he muttered under his breath. "Twelve days until I never have peace again." There wasn't a woman he particularly wanted to tie himself to, and the ones who knew of his predicament and were trying to win his affections were doing so the wrong way. Following him around and giggling or trying to prove they were just as capable of sword play as him. Constantly challenging him as soon as he woke and tried to break his fast. Never letting him have a moment to himself. Hence his retreat to the forested hillside.

  He was Björn the Untouchable. Fierce, frightening, and feared by his enemies. Yet all he wanted was to be left alone. Whispers stated that King Olaf had ambitions of uniting all of Scandinavia under Christian rule, but many—like himself—had been reluctant to disregard the old gods for the new one. Björn couldn't keep his faith, so why should he lose his sense of self by marrying before he made the choice? It wasn't like his life would change if he committed to a loveless marriage. Still, he dreaded it more than he probably should. His father had married for love; why was it so important that Björn rush into it and not do the same?

  His worries faded from the forefront of his mind as a stag wandered out of the brush and stared at him, ears twitching. Björn's first impulse was to draw his bow, but the sudden movement would only startle the creature, and besides, all the food required except the daily catch of fish was already obtained for the feasts over the next twelve days. Why should he kill the stag when, like him, it longed to be left alone?

  The deer turned abruptly and then darted back from whence it came. At first, Björn wasn't sure what could have spooked it, but then a voice emanated from beyond the trees. Someone talking.
A woman, if he wasn't mistaken. But who else would be out here in the cold and not gathering in the great hall for the solstice feast?

  As he strained to hear what the person disrupting his solitude was saying, hoping he wasn't about to intrude in an intimate encounter of some sort, he furrowed his brow as he realized why it sounded irregular. Many of the words had Danish inflections. While the two countries spoke the same language, at least for now, there were minor differences that a trained ear could pick up on if they had spent a lot of time around Danes. But what was a Danish woman doing in Norway during the Winter Solstice? If someone in the village had married her, it was against his knowledge and his father assuredly hadn't told him.

  Unsure if there was an attack threatening his homeland, Björn crawled through the underbrush toward the voice. Was this an attack on his father to take control of his territory as the Danes sought to rule the country once more? The voice grew louder, and he flattened himself in the dirt, staying completely still to determine which direction the woman was heading. He slowly drew his bow and a single arrow from his quiver. The celebration would be a perfect time to attack the village as warriors were deep in their cups and unprepared. They'd fight, aye, but they'd make a sloppy show for it. Björn would need to try to get back to Iskygge as quickly as possible to warn them all, but he needed to be sure before alarming anyone.

  "Father?" A woman said in a brash version of what he assumed was meant as a whisper. A shadow betrayed her location in front of him to the left. She sounded irritated with the man, her father, though he couldn't tell where another figure could be located. Then, oddly, she added, "That's what I get for putting my trust in Loki."