by Dawn Brower
Angeline went over to the window and stared outside. Snow had started to fall again. She didn’t need a shooting star to make her wishes come true. The last one had already worked its magic, or at least gave her the courage to seek out Lucian and grab ahold of her happiness. Her husband came to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned back against him. His warm breath tickled her ear. “Merry Christmas, Angel.”
“Merry Christmas, Lucian.” She smiled. “It’s one I’ll never forget.”
“You didn’t tell me what you wished for.” He kissed her cheek. “Want to know what my Christmas wish was?”
“I didn’t realize that you’d made one.” She turned around and met his gaze. “Did you make it on the same star?”
“I didn’t see any shooting star,” he answered. His voice hitched a little with emotion. “There is one thing that has held my attention for weeks. It’s you. I prayed, wished, whatever you want to call it, that you would fall in love with me. That I’d have a chance at forever with you, and I have it.”
She smiled. It was astonishing that they’d both loved each other for so long and neither one had been brave enough to admit it sooner. Why did something as wonderful as love make individuals so foolish? At least they’d managed to work through their problems and had a chance at a real future. “I wished for the same thing. Maybe it was a miracle, or magic, but none of that matters.” Angeline brushed her fingers over his hair. “What does is that we love each other. As far as Christmas wishes go…that’s one I’ll always be happy came true. I don’t need to make another wish ever again because that was the most important.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
He leaned down and kissed her. Angeline reveled in it and the love that filled her. It was the most real thing she’d ever felt in her life. Lucian would always hold her heart. She’d wanted his love for a long time and never believed she’d have it. Discovering he loved her as much as she loved him… Hope was a gift, even when it seemed like she should give up. Without it, she might not have married Lucian, and she could have lost him forever. No amount of wishing would have brought them together. In her opinion, some things happened for a reason. That didn’t mean she and Lucian didn’t have some things to work through, but with love, they would find a way through it all.
“Angeline,” her father called out. “Come sit with your grandmother.”
She stepped out of her husband’s arms. “Duty calls. I’ll see you later.” Angeline winked then headed to her grandmother’s side. “Grandma Pia.” Angeline hugged her. Her blonde hair had turned a silver gray and her blue eyes were not as bright as they used to be. Her dress matched the color of her hair. She still mourned Grandpa Thor and wore the somber shade out of respect for that loss. She’d probably still wear black if Aunt Lily hadn’t encouraged her to wear something a little brighter for Christmastide. “Are you excited to decorate the tree.”
Her grandmother patted her hand. “I’m waiting for the finale—my angel, the one your grandfather gave me. I need to see it on top. It gives me good memories of Thor—I miss him.”
Her grandparents had shared a bond that Angeline had always hoped for, and found with Lucian. “He’ll always be with us. In here.” She patted her chest. “Our love will keep him alive.”
“You’re right,” her grandmother agreed. “His crystal angel is the physical reminder of that bond.” She glanced up at her. “You and your cousins keep him alive for me too. Without my family, his death would have been unbearable.”
Angeline kissed her grandmother’s cheek. “Grandpa Thor was a good man, and we all loved him and adore you too. If you ever want to talk about him, I’ll be here to listen.”
“You’re a dear.” She glanced up. “Look, your father has the angel box.” Her father opened the lid revealing what lay inside. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Inside, against plush red velvet lay a crystal angel. A shiny gold halo floating above her head, gossamer wings spread high on her back, and her skirts hollow and fine, she shimmered much like the diamond sparkle that glittered on the outside of the container she was stored in. “Yes,” she agreed as she met her grandmother’s gaze. “She is.”
The crystal angel was a family heirloom. It represented family, hope, and love. Angeline was blessed to have all of it in her life. Some bonds were unbreakable. Her grandparents had shared a grand love, and now she had something similar with Lucian. She glanced across the room, and she met his gaze. She couldn’t say what the days would unfold, but she knew one thing for certain: they would be filled with love.
Afterword
Researching this era has been fascinating for me. To read about the struggles women faced as they fought for their rights is truly wondrous. Their struggles paved the way for women today and if not for the hardships they faced, we might not have the freedoms we now enjoy. I hold a lot of respect for those women and what they did to ensure I can make my own choices. In today’s climate, more than ever, I recognize their sacrifices and remember what they stood for. All humans have rights and it is important we stand up for ourselves. Sometimes that might prove perilous or detrimental to our way of life, but in the end, if we don’t, what will we have stood for?
If you have something you truly believe in, DO NOT, give up on it. Be remembered for your bravery, and if history should make note of it, the world will look back and be as awed by you, as I now am with the women who fought for women’s rights. We may not realize it while we’re in the midst of it, but all our actions have meaning. In the end, only you know what the right choice is for you. Just make one.
Excerpt: Hela Takes a Holiday
Christmas Wishes 1
Rebekah Lewis
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 in
stead. 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 in 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 lo
nger, 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.