Quiet Time

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 (this story)
• Tyr Lends A Hand
• Prison Break
• Escaping Asgard
• 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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Her hideaway discovered, Geiravor sought refuge in the library. It wasn't massive, but it was big enough to get lost in, especially for a child. Very few came to the library, too; the Aesir didn't like to read. She mostly only saw Frigg, the queen, and on occasion Gullveig, one of the runemistresses, in the reading area by the large windows that overlooked the training courtyard.

She moved further into the library and found an entire section dedicated to poems that spoke of the creation of the worlds and the events that followed. She was no stranger to those stories, but she was excited anyway. Carefully, she took a scroll from the shelf she could reach, sat cross-legged on the floor, and began to read. The text was in the tongue of the Ancients, but she was Jotnar, and the Jotnar stuck more faithfully to the old ways than any of the other tribes that descended from Ymir. So while it was a slow affair and she stumbled over many words along the way, she was able to make her way through the poem with sufficient understanding.

He found her a few hours later.

"What are you doing?" Hodr asked, appearing unbidden from behind the shelves, with his unruly mop of dark hair and ice blue eyes.

"Reading." Geiravor looked up at him, her nose wrinkling in displeasure at being interrupted. "You should try it sometime."

She returned to her scroll, but not before she caught the thoughtful — if not mildly bewildered — expression that bloomed across his face. And then, to her surprise, he stepped forward and reached for a scroll himself. As he was taller than her, he was able to get to the next shelf, and after some consideration, he chose one that looked so much older than the one she held in her hands. That, if nothing else, piqued her interest.

"May I?" he asked sheepishly, gesturing to the space on the floor beside her.

She wanted to tell him to go away. He'd already stolen her tree, now he was stealing her spot in the library?

He owns all this, stupid, a voice at the back of her head promptly reminded her a moment later, and she winced inwardly. Of course he did. Just because he didn't look like an Aesir prince didn't mean he wasn't one.

Her eyes were on the scroll he carried, one she wouldn't have been able to reach without dragging a chair or a ladder through the library and climbing on it. She wanted to read it so badly that eventually she relented, though she shrugged and pretended she didn't really care what he did.

From the corner of her eyes, she caught him beaming. His smile was short-lived, however; it quickly died as soon as he opened the scroll and found himself facing the near-faded text of the Ancients. He squinted, trying to make sense of the words.

Recognizing the words on the title line, she leaned closer without bothering to wait for an invitation. "The Children of Ymir," she read for him, her smug tone strongly reminiscent of her father's.

Instead of being offended, however, Hodr seemed completely nonplussed. "You can read this?"

She rolled her eyes. She couldn't read all of it, of course, but he didn't have to know that. "I don't spend all my time playing outside," she muttered disdainfully, though despite her tone, she was careful in taking the scroll from his hands.

"We're not playing, we're training," he explained, pulling a face. He made no move to stop her from taking the scroll, however, even as their hands briefly touched. If anything, he seemed to be staring intently at his palms.