Hela Takes a Holiday: Christmas Wishes, #1

By Rebekah Lewis

It's lonely being the queen of the dead. Hela longs for a life among the living, and a chance at love. When Loki grants her wish, she's elated…only to discover later that even a trickster god's daughter isn't safe from his deceit. How can she learn to adapt to life on Midgard if her presence disrupts the balance of life and death?

Björn the Untouchable requires a wife…but isn't in a hurry to find one. Escaping the festivities of Yule, he discovers a naked woman in the middle of the forest. Something about her isn't quite right, and having the same name as a death goddess is a bad omen to be sure. Nevertheless, he's completely enchanted by her.

Hela has only twelve days of the Yule celebration to remain human, but otherworldly threats linger. Can she find true love in the arms of a Viking warrior in the land of the living, or will she be the cause of an entire village's destruction? Only Loki knows, but he's not one to share his schemes…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebekah Lewis
• Release date: Nov 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386099826

Rebekah Lewis

Rebekah Lewis has always been captivated by fictional worlds. An avid reader and lover of cinema, it was only a matter of time before she started writing her own stories and immersing herself in her imagination. Rebekah’s most popular series, The Cursed Satyroi, is paranormal romance based on Greek mythology. She also writes Fantasy and Time Travel. When satyrs, white rabbits, and stubborn heroes aren’t keeping her busy, she may be found putting her creativity to use as an award-winning cover artist. Rebekah holds a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature and lives in Savannah, GA with her cat, Bagheera.

Book preview

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 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