In Vino Veritas

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
• Quiet Time
• Tyr Lends A Hand
• Big Sister, Big Brother
• Just Friends
• Admittance
• Prison Break
• Escaping Asgard
• Marriage Plans
• New Normal
• Hunting Trip
• Night Out
• Waltz
• Treason
• Reporting In
• Escaping Asgard Redux
• Brother's Keeper
• Traditions
• Primping
• In Vino Veritas (this story)
• Final Hour
• Better Off Gone
• Resistance and Steps
• Forsaken
• Revenge Served With Rage
• 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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Geiravor ran her fingertips over the ancient blade, surprise clear on her features. She'd seen Hodr's face fall when she'd explained that a traditional Jotnar wedding rite involved the exchange of ancestral swords. Having fled Asgard with nothing but the clothes on his back and some supplies, he had nothing to give her, but she'd assured him that it didn't matter, that he would just need to have one forged especially for the occasion. That was what she'd thought his plan was when she'd noticed him pulling Rygi and Nyal aside one day, not that they would sneak into Asgard to break into his ancestor's tomb.

"Whose—"

Hodr looked stupid proud of himself. "Buri's."

She glanced over the top of his head at Rygi, who only grinned at her. She was beginning to regret appointing him as Hodr's guard, but the pair of them had taken to each other like they were long-lost brothers. In a way, they were; Rygi's great grandfather was Odin's grand-uncle, not that the Aesir ever recognized the Jotnar side of their family tree. In fact, the Aesir had some weird story about how Buri, the first of their kind, had come into the world fully grown, licked free by the cow Audumbla from the salty rime-rimmed stones that became the foundations of Asgard's palace... when Buri had actually been a Jotunn, and his mother Audumbla had definitely not been a cow.

Per Jotnar custom, Buri had inherited his sword from his mother upon coming of age, while Audumbla had previously received the sword from her husband when they'd gotten married. Buri might've abandoned the Jotnar ways and founded the Aesir, but that sword was as Jotnar as Hodr could get. Geiravor appreciated that, and she hoped the people would, too.

But she seemed to have underestimated how stubborn Hodr could be when he wanted something, because to everyone's astonishment — everyone except Rygi anyway — he invoked the marriage rite by omitting his Aesir bloodline entirely.

"I, Hodr, great great grandson of Audumbla," he began to intone, and hushed murmurs spread through the crowd. Any Jotunn who cared knew Audumbla, whose sons' rivalry sparked a split of a family line into two tribes that until the present were still at each others' throats. Clearly Hodr was dead set on proving himself to the Jotnar, for he even knew to recognize the matriarch of the house instead of any of the males. Rygi had taught him that for sure; Audumbla, after all, was their common ancestor.

Geiravor let him finish, before accepting the sword and slipping it into the sheath on her hip. Hodr stood to accept her family's heirloom in turn, and he looked just as surprised as she was to see that her father was handing him nothing else but Laufey's sword, the very same Borr had failed to find and claim as part of his war spoils.

"I don't deserve—" he started to protest, but Loki shushed him and gave him a pointed look.

"Do you want to marry her or not?"

The Elder's attendant then came in carrying an ornate tray, upon which were two goblets of wine and two daggers. Geiravor, being more familiar with the custom, took the lead, picking up a dagger and slicing her left palm open with it. She then let her blood mix with the wine in one of the goblets until there was none left as her wound closed on its own accord. Hodr finished right after her, having followed her without hesitation.

Now came the hard part. She lifted his goblet off the tray and took a step to the side. As did he. Then they linked their arms to drink their wines.

"I'm sorry," she apologized preemptively, giving him a small, strained smile, "for whatever you might see."

She took a slow, steady drink from his goblet, draining it to the very last drop. She closed her eyes, the spell kicking in no sooner than she did so.

Something hit her from behind, and she lurched forward, though she did not completely lose her footing. Her eyes opened to nothing but darkness. The sound came again, a loud crack that made her recoil, before she felt a sharp, searing pain along her back. Green eyes widened in realization. "Father had me flogged, while they all watched," she remembered Hodr confessing.

Sure enough, as though summoned by her own thoughts, Odin's voice echoed through the darkness, in time to every lash and overlapping until all she could hear was his disappointment and displeasure. She didn't even have to hear every word to know exactly what he meant.

"Stop," Geiravor hissed, squeezing her eyes shut, though she knew it was pointless to fight against a vision. None of this was real, or at least they weren't really happening to her. But Hodr's fears were real, which was the whole point of this part of the ritual — to bring their partner's fears and secrets to the light. She'd heard tales of marriage rites that had been called off halfway as one or both parties had been unable to take what they only then realized they were getting into.

Then she heard the telltale crackle of spreading frost. Opening her eyes once more, she found herself in Asgard's courtyard, staring up at a large wall of ice. Her heart sank before she even saw her own reflection on the surface, and all the more when she heard her own voice say, "How could anyone love someone like you? You are nothing. And you are nothing to me."

The rest of the visions were more of the same. Rejection, abandonment. When the spell finally wore off and she was released to the real world, she found that she'd dropped the goblet she'd been holding, and that her face was wet with tears.

Hodr wasn't looking at her. Instead he was staring at his feet, around which frost pooled in a small circle. The goblet that had been in his hand lay on the floor, entirely frosted over.

Everyone else in the hall was deathly quiet.

After a long stretch of silence, the Elder cleared her throat softly. "Do you wish to continue, my queen, sire?"

Geiravor swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. It was a terrible thing to know that you were the cause of someone's despair, especially when it was someone you loved and held so dearly. And she was certain he felt that too — for she feared losing him just as much. She wouldn't know for sure what shape his visions of her fears had taken unless he'd decide to disclose them, but she wouldn't be surprised if they had been of him leaving, or being taken away, or worse, dying...

When her gaze met Hodr's again, he still looked shaken, but he was smiling. I love you, he mouthed, and she released the breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

"Ja, please," she answered, and he did too.

- ✵ -

He'd thrown her over his shoulder and carted her away from the feast to the laughter of their guests, but instead of heading to their chambers, he took the stairs toward one of the broken towers and settled her back on her feet once they made it to the top. They moved to sit among the stones, uncaring that they were getting their clothes dirty. They'd be rid of them soon enough, anyway.

"You don't look happy," she teased gently, bumping her shoulder against his.

He put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close, kissing the top of her head. "Oh, I am. I've just been thinking..."

"About the visions?"

He nodded, though he said nothing more to it. She let him have his silence, leaning to rest her head on his shoulder. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been thinking about the visions either. She hoped that their marriage would alleviate his fears, but there, too, was the fact that word of it would reach Asgard and his father. Running off to play house with the enemy was maybe not so bad, in the grand scheme of things. But to take part in a sacred binding? There was no turning back now, not even for him.

He took her hand, the one where she wore her ring, caressing the top of it with his thumb. His fingers were cold. "I just... have one more thing I need to do."

Before she could say anything to it, she felt the chill of magic in the air. Her gaze shifted to their hands, and she gasped softly in surprise as a delicate, ice blue band knitted itself together around the base her ring finger, just below the ring she wore.

"I will never leave you, Geiravor," Hodr swore in earnest. "Please don't be afraid anymore."