Just Friends

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 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 (this story)
• Prison Break
• Escaping Asgard
• New Normal
• Marriage Plans
• Brother's Keeper
• Final Hour
• 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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This scene was written with Meri.

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Geiravor's outrage at Fenris being bullied had cooled after she'd gotten the chance to hit and yell at Baldr, but it turned into worry at the realization that Hodr had somehow gotten himself in trouble for it. Her brother hadn't said anything that night, too freaked out by his unexpected shapechanging and his mauling of Tyr, so she waited until the following day to ask.

She and Hodr were friends, that was true. But even so, she did not expect him to stand up for her brother, especially in the face of his older brothers, who were among the biggest bullies in Asgard. They had many years of training and missions on him, for one. And Hodr, unfortunately, was just not built like the rest of the Aesir. He'd always been smaller, shorter, weaker. There had been whispers, in fact, that Baldr had taken more than what was meant for him while the twins were in the womb, for he excelled at nearly everything.

Through the years she'd watched Odin desperately try to change that by being harsher with Hodr, both in training and in parenting, which only made Hodr more dejected and frustrated. It also did not help that the one edge Hodr had over his brothers — magic — was something the Aesir frowned upon, so his use of it was only ridiculed and even prohibited. His own brothers had called him argr, and to be deemed unmanly was a great insult among the Aesir, so much that it was a valid reason to challenge the accuser to a duel to settle the dispute. The taint had remained as Hodr hadn't bothered to challenge his brothers, and as they grew older and well into their teens, the bullying only grew worse, for while it was perfectly acceptable for the Aesir to be sexually active at that age, Hodr had shown absolutely no interest in it, and in women in general.

Geiravor had thought it all unfair. She was Jotnar, after all, and magic and effeminacy were perfectly acceptable to them. Her own father had even shapechanged into a mare and gave birth to an eight-legged horse!

Those circumstances, in part, were what led to their friendship over the years. The other part of it was Hodr just being an annoyance, following her around for no reason whatsover since they were children.

And because they were friends, she had to visit him. She had to know if he was alright, given the beating he'd taken for defending her brother, and to thank him for the deed. It didn't matter that his parents forbade him from receiving visitors, particularly Jotnar-shaped ones, or that Baldr had warned her to stay away; armed with some books and snacks and a small bouquet of silverfrost, she snuck her way through the palace halls and into his room.

"It's me," she announced as she slipped in, giving him a moment to register her presence — and prevent him from blasting her with ice, as she'd heard he'd done to his brothers — before moving further into the room.

He seemed to be trapped beneath an obnoxious amount of blankets. "You came."

She stopped at the foot of his bed, pulling out the flowers from under her cloak and mock-frowning at him. "I thought you were dead, so I brought you some flowers."

"How nice of you." With an arm in a sling, he struggled for a bit with the blankets before finally managing to sit up and pull the covers aside as an invitation for her to sit with him. He'd really taken quite a beating, and she felt terrible about it.

She replaced the flowers on his nightstand with the ones she'd brought. Then from the pockets of her cloak she drew out the books and the snacks, setting them down on his lap in offering. "How nice am I now?" she teased, removing her cloak while he rifled through the pile with one hand.

"You forgot the apple."

She hauled herself up to his bed and held out an apple she'd been hiding behind her back. As if she would forget! She knew he liked apples. In fact, she knew a lot of things about him.

She started to offer him the fruit — but she quickly retracted her hand, taking the first bite of it instead and watching with a grin as he pouted. Then she bumped his good shoulder with hers. "I jest. How are you feeling?"

"Bored. Mother weighed me down with all these blankets to try and keep me from moving much." He was clearly also in pain, but he didn't want to acknowledge it, so she did him the courtesy of not pointing it out either. "How is he?"

"He was really upset last night. He didn't mean to do it. It's just so new to him, he's yet to learn to control it..."

"Shapechanging?"

She nodded. "Father said our magic begins to manifest at around his age. And learning is difficult because it's also the age when we're so... emotional." She turned to look at him, her expression serious but soft. "Thank you. It means a lot, what you did."

He sank a little into the pillows. "I tried. It wasn't right what they were doing. I'm sorry they are so cruel. "

"I'm sorry they're your brothers."

He actually laughed at that. "Me too." He picked up one of the books she'd brought and held it out to her. "Read to me?" he requested, suddenly shy.

She accepted the book and nodded, pushing off her shoes with her feet so she could tuck her legs under the blankets too. They'd already done this many times before that she'd never really questioned if they shouldn't, though it wasn't lost on her how close they were, how she could feel his leg brush against hers when he shifted to get more comfortable, how well his head fit on her shoulder, how their sides settled nicely against each other.

She let out a breath — she was weirdly nervous, and she had no idea why — and began to read. It was a book he'd already borrowed once before, with a pretty straightforward tale of some ancient Jotnar out on a quest, but it called for the use of the storytelling voices she employed back when she still read to her siblings. Glancing at him every so often, she saw that while he had his eyes closed, he would react accordingly as the story progressed. He was listening.

"... and they died. The end."

He straightened up and looked at her accusingly. "They did not. I've read that one before."

She brought the book closer to her face, squinting as she pretended to reread the last part. "No," she said after a while, her tone utterly convincing. "They died. I'm really sorry, Hodr. Don't cry. It's just a story."

He poked her side. "Why you—"

"Stop!" she shrieked, hitting his hand with the book. He drew back with a laugh, and she laughed with him... until they both stopped laughing mid-way and just stared at each other for what felt like a very long time.

Then, to her surprise, he reached out to brush his fingers lightly along her cheek. "Are your eyes a different shade of green or is it the shadows with the curtains keeping the light out?"

Oh no. "Um." Her eyes weren't supposed to be changing colors like that. Not anymore, or at least she'd been fairly certain she had her magic under control. "I'm just happy. So. Um." She blushed. "Jotnar magic is, you know, kind of tied to emotions..."

She trailed off, but not because she didn't want to explain. He'd shifted on the bed just then, his toe brushing her ankle. His toe was cold. She knew his family didn't like to acknowledge his powers, or the fact that they had a Jotnar ancestor somewhere in their family tree, but she'd long suspected that his magic had to be more like theirs than anything.

He probably did as well, because he just nodded and said, "I know. I... I'm happy too." He ducked his head. "Just... um... let me know if you get too cold..."

"It's alright. The cold is nice. I mean, it's nice that you're happy. Um." Wait, what? She had no idea what she was saying anymore. So to distract herself from whatever was going on, she shifted to better face him and held the book up with both hands.

"Might as well practice a little, since you're, um, feeling it? Can you try freezing this?" She peered over the edge of the book with a playful smile and a mischievous light in her eyes that had turned into yet another shade of green. "But without freezing my fingers."

"Without freezing your fingers," he echoed, staring at the book thoughtfully. Or was he staring at her? It looked like it for a second there... or did she just want him to be staring at her?

The soft sound of spreading frost silenced her thoughts, and she watched as a thin coat of ice began to envelope the book from the front cover until the edges of her fingertips. His blue eyes flickered up to meet hers, and he gave her a small smile.

She laughed. The frost tickled!

His expression turned unsure then. "How... how is that?"

"Good, but—" She set her arms down and the book with it, and there's a small scrunch of her nose even as she continued to laugh. "You froze my nose! " Well, not really the whole nose. The tip, at least. It almost felt like she'd been standing outside in the thick of winter. But she wasn't upset by it. On the contrary, she was amused that he'd overdone it.

"S-Sorry!" He reached out to brush his thumb across her nose, squinting in concentration. "How does that feel now?"

Now she looked unsure. "I don't think there's a rune for that..." The cold seemed to have retreated back into himself, or at least melted and turned into water. The skin on her nose felt moist. The rune Isa could summon ice, drawing upon the magic reserves of the World Tree, but as far as she knew, that was the extent of rune magic. Manipulating matter, however... that was a Jotnar skill. "I mean, it's better now. And you're doing better. Can I ask you something, about your magic? Don't get mad."

"You know you can ask me anything, Geiravor. I promise not to get mad." He was frowning, though, wondering what her sudden fuss was about.

"It's just that... your magic seems to get out of hand when you’re angry, or... feeling something very strongly. Do you think you might be, you know..." She swallowed, realizing that she was about to imply something the Aesir found terrible, hateful even. "... like us?"

But he even looked relieved at the question. "I would hope so." He grinned. "That would be nice, actually."

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. And he was grinning, so she couldn't help but grin back, because she was happy and he's nice and he's really really... good-looking. Most of the other girls fussed about Baldr, some fawned over their much older brothers, but she'd never really found any of them attractive. Too big and brawny and, well, loud. Even Vidar, who was famously quiet and barely spoke, could step into a room and make the crowd fall silent with just his presence.

Hodr, though... she liked him. Subtler, softer, and the least like the Aesir. She knew he struggled with combat training, but she'd always thought he had the advantage of speed and great footwork over the raw strength his brothers (and Odin, and the Einherji) tended to favor.

Whoa whoa whoa. Ymir help her, why was she recounting all his good qualities? Or, well, the physical to start. Because he was also really sweet, and he spent a lot of time with her, unlike the others who barely even gave her a passing glance...

Wait, was that his hand on her cheek? She had no idea how that happened. But his hand was cold cold, which might be the same thing as her eyes changing color? Her heart was now beating a mile a minute, then it all but thundered when she noticed him leaning in. He's leaning in, right?

His nose brushed hers. She couldn't breathe.

Then a bang on his door made them both jerk. His hand dropped from her cheek to her lap, catching her hands like he didn't want her to bolt. His fingers were freezing.

Baldr was standing in the doorway, scowling at her. "Leave. Now."