Vidar's Heart

  Qua Hudson

  Copyright © 2023 by Qua Hudson

  All rights reserved.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher.

  Editor: Morgan Waddle

  To everyone who's ever wondered about Thor's brothers.

  Author's Notes

  This is a work of fiction. As the author, I do not condone some of the situations that take place between the characters. This is simply for entertainment. Some of the content will be triggering for some people. If you have any of the triggers listed, please do not proceed. The book is not to be consumed by anyone under the age of 18. The list of trigger warnings is below. Note they may hold spoilers.

  Triggers:

  Violence, murder, war, blood, slavery, explicit scenes, sexually explicit scenes, attempted suicide.

  Contents

  1. No One Was Made For Me

  2. Blueberries and Madder

  3. The Wanderer

  4. Nothing Will Stop Me

  5. The Danger Zone

  6. The God’s Parade

  7. Hi, I’m Eros

  8. The Gremlin Keeper

  9. Shedding Vidar

  10. Then We Will Have Forever

  11. My Queen, Happy Birthday

  12. I Am Yours

  13. Where Is Eros?

  14. It’s Time To Go Home

  15. What Have I Done?

  16. I Will Never Yield

  17. Trepidation

  18. Dangling Grapes

  19. Feed Me Poison

  20. Thorny Roses

  21. Gawking Ghosts

  22. The Librarian

  23. The Ragna

  24. Slow Poison

  25. The Suffocating Dragon

  26. Our Castle, My Garden, Your Snag

  27. Clarity

  28. The Children Of Odin

  29. Now Or Never

  30. Do You Come In Peace?

  31. Almost Strangers

  32. Ruin Me

  33. I Was Made For Her

  34. Home

  35. The People Of The Sun

  36. Immortalization

  37. Goddess Thalia

  Epilogue

  Other Books by the Author

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Find Me

  No One Was Made For Me

  Vidar

  I pull my sword out of the heart of the last giant.

  The battle is won.

  Panting slowly, I look around the battlefield littered with giants, ensuring all the rebels have fallen. My eyes land on Sigurd, my trusted soldier, his sword deep in the eye of a one-eyed giant.

  My feet start moving.

  Time to end this.

  The battlefield has heaps of giants down. Some fought with us, but mostly it’s the rebels. The rebels had become a problem for this once peaceful realm of giants. They came from all four tribes of the realm, wanting to rise against my father’s rule. Father sent me and my soldiers to remind them why we are the rulers of the seven realms and why they will always be beneath us.

  The fools thought they could free themselves from us; start a revolution. They learned today. This is not the land of revolution. I can only wish them more suffering in the next realm. May the gods of the afterlife show them as much mercy as I showed them this day.

  “Your Highness.” Anga, the appointed chief of the stone giants, falls to the ground before me in reverence. “May your name be sung by a thousand angels.”

  Looking behind him, I see the other leaders and their generals. Groot of the leaf tribe, Gelmir of the ice giants, and Tor of the sand giants approach carefully with bowed heads. I look at all of them, ensuring there aren’t any rebels we missed, while Sigurd and my other men fall in behind me.

  “May your name be whispered amongst the angels in Valhalla, Lord Vidar.” Gelmir trembles as he bows his head.

  They all do.

  “And I hope this is the last time I have to come here to help keep your people in line. I will have your heads next time.”

  Gasps rise at my words, but I have no more time to waste on this.

  “Y-yes, Lord.” Tor flakes as he trembles.

  Pathetic.

  All of them are pathetic and unfit to rule, except for Groot.

  Groot is the only leader I respect in this realm. The only one I would spare. Unlike the cowards surrounding him, he gained his power by fighting for it and conquering the last leader, not through birthright.

  When my father’s armies came to war with this realm, the leaf giants gave us the most resistance. They were fierce in battle, fighting until their last breath for their home. They laid waste to many of our soldiers before we subdued their lands. Eventually, they too had no choice but to bow.

  Groot is the reason this realm kept its native leaders. He negotiated to keep an Asgardian ruler out of their realm, unlike the other realms where an Asgardian holds the land down for our Empire. But they are loyal to my father, and they keep their realm loyal to the Empire.

  “If his lordship would honor us by joining the feast, we have prepared for you and your guard,” Groot speaks with more confidence than his other comrades.

  Nodding, I let Groot lead us to the stone giant palace, where a feast is prepared and a parade is waiting. I do not bother cleaning myself.

  We eat the meat and drink what is offered. When the sun is on its last stretch, we rise to leave for our realm.

  The four leaders bring us to the throne room where we will portal out of this realm to our own. Fima, my magician, takes a stand in the middle of the hall as the leaders bow their heads.

  “May you live long, lord Vidar,” they say in unison.

  Fima moves her hands, a small light forming between them. She balls her hands around the growing light, then throws the ball of light forth.

  Suspended in mid-air, it tears space, and my realm appears on the other side. The portal widens until it has taken the height of half the high ceiling room.

  I am only too pleased to leave the realm of the giants. Stepping into my realm, I deeply inhale the fresh, familiar air.

  The portal closes behind us once we all make it to the other side.

  We advance toward the fog that covers my castle. As we near, Bara, my servant, materializes with the ship.

  “Lord Vidar, welcome back.” He bows his head, then lowers the gangway. I take my seat on the ship and my men take their places. They talk amongst themselves and tell jokes about our latest victory.

  “Did you see Tor and how he was shaking? The beast has no spine.” Kemir says, shaking his head. A roar of laughter erupts from all of them.

  “That’s because he doesn’t, you imbecile,” Taro says when he finishes laughing.

  “And even if he had a spine, who could stand in front of Vidar and his horde?” Sigurd asks the men.

  They all know he speaks true. I am the most feared of the gods, after my father. Even the name of my older brother, Thor, the next in line for the throne, isn’t whispered in hush tones throughout the realms. The songs in my name tell of a terrible monstrosity who is too fearsome to even gaze upon, some going as far as saying I can kill a creature with just a glance.

  Although, that wouldn’t be entirely wrong. I have had creatures perish before me at the mere sight of me. It’s always made me angry. Even though I know my strength, I want to give every opponent a fair chance. Dying at my feet before I even touch them is dishonorable. Disgusting. Disgraceful.

  “Ey, you think Vannah will make her special soft bread for our feast?” Kemir asks. For the great warrior that he is, Kemir never shuts up. He will speak whether it’s time or it isn’t. And he cares not if his audience entertains his oral excretions or not.

  Lorakh’s ears stand at attention like a wolf at the mention of Vannah’s soft bread. It is a favorite amongst the men and even I admit it is passable. I have lived years too many to count, and nothing is impressive to me anymore. I have seen it all. I have done it all.

  I have been to all the realms and have experienced all they have to offer. I have hunted with the Yazuka tribe in Midgard and listened to the sirens singing their song of life and rebirth in the depths of Kakashi in the fae realm. I've ridden the most fearsome dragon in Draco, Trojan. And read thousands of books from my father's castle library Usha, the biggest collection in existence.

  My father is always telling me the next step is to find a wife and have a little life outside the battlefield, but I disagree. Crushing skulls and tearing hearts out of living bodies is the only thrill I have left.

  It's still just as exciting as the first time I lifted a sword and stabbed a traitor father threw to my feet. An elf caught snooping through the library I frequented. The poor elf had been pronounced a danger to me, one of All-Father’s offspring, and he had to perish.

  I was a boy of ten, theoretically learning the art of war and my father used this to teach me my first lesson in hand-to-hand combat, ending a creature’s life. While a child of a lesser creature may have been terrified of seeing life snatched from a creature’s eyes, it fascinated me beyond anything I had ever read. When its blood warmed my feet, I knelt down and touched it, smearing it on me as a trophy. When I lifted
my eyes to my father, I saw pride, but the other teachers had horror in theirs.

  A look I didn’t quite understand at first. But as millennia passed, it is a look I not only grew accustomed to, but one I have come to expect. Terror shrouds my essence, going before me wherever I go, announcing my arrival.

  Shaking my head, I clear my thoughts as the thick fog of Lake Helda dissipates and my castle comes into view. When I chose this land for my castle, the lake didn’t have the fog, only the magical creatures that occupy it protected this land and the lake.

  The fog protects my castle from the eyes of outsiders, me and my people from the creatures that reside in the lake, and the lake creatures from being used for magic. Some of the creatures that live in its depths are tens of thousands of years in age and hold very potent magic.

  The lake harbors many secrets. One of them being my personal sanctuary.

  The horn announcing my arrival sounds from the top of the watcher’s tower and the gates open. Descending the gangway, we make our way through the gates.

  I still reek of giant blood, even if it has dried now.

  “Lord Vidar.”

  The castle’s servants are present to welcome me back from another trip, their heads bowed, lined in a passage, and I pass them without any words.

  After all, I am known as the silent one. The demigod with few words. The one who only speaks what is necessary. Some say my mother being a nymph has something to do with it, but who knows? It’s not that I don’t talk, I just prefer observing others and know words aren’t always necessary.

  I enter and head immediately to my tower. Heavy footsteps follow behind me.

  Bhalar.

  “Lord, should I send the maidens for you, or you will use them later?” Bhalar pants as he tries to keep up with me. I don’t slow down or give him an answer. But he has worked for me long enough that he knows the answer is no and leaves. It never stops him from asking, though. The leprechaun is nothing if not insistent.

  I hardly even use those maidens. They were a joke from Thor, who thought I should have some women’s company from time to time because then maybe I’d loosen up a bit. Though I would never admit it to him, their presence has helped when I need something warm to keep me occupied at night. Though I have not been interested in any of them enough to keep for more than one night.

  My brother, on the other hand, always has a woman to keep him company, even if there is one who has been promised to him. I suppose it’s the narcissist in him. He always wants to hear his praise on the lips of his subjects. How good-looking he is, how much stamina he has. I have no interest in any of those.

  When I was young and foolish, I had imagined I’d meet a young maiden and maybe fall in love. But after five hundred years, I finally accepted the truth. No one was made for me. I will never get her. The Fates gave me great power, but they withheld from me the other piece of my soul.

  I push the door to my chambers open and walk in. Everything is untouched, exactly how I left it. Just like how I want it. Nobody is allowed in my private chambers. A few have learned the deadly lesson. My private chambers are for me and me alone. Explicit permission must be given to anyone who enters here.

  Taking off my armor, I throw it in the drum. Then open the faucet and fill the stem. I lower my body and submerge under the water. When I finish washing my body, I rise and dry myself. I dress in my royal tunic with a belt and trousers.

  I head for the door, and just when I touch the knob, I hear it. A melody more beautiful than any I have ever heard. A woman’s voice. I have never heard such a beautiful voice and this kind of melody. I stagger forward as my mind and vision swim for a moment, and I can no longer control my own body. The song is maddening. And as quickly as I hear the song, it’s gone the next moment.

  My heart rate jumps.

  My queen.

  Blueberries and Madder

  Thalia

  My legs quicken as I rush home, hoping that father isn't back from the council meeting yet. I need to prepare dinner before he gets home.

  A slight detour to the western hill to pick blueberries, dahlias, indigo, and madder for my paint, turned into hours of me getting lost in the village's flower garden; daydreaming and smelling the flowers. I’ve had much inspiration to paint these days and most of my sunrises are spent on the hill painting. Tomorrow I will squeeze in some time to go to the village flower garden in the mountain and set my soul free.

  Nearing our house, I can hear the twins’ voices laughing and screaming; another running game that requires way too much energy. If they were of age, my younger sister could help me with the pots, and I would have more time to paint.

  Sighing, I remove the bucket from my head, and it feels like it’s going to fall off. Fetching drinking water in the river isn't something I’m fond of, especially since the little rascals broke the wheelbarrow. But what can I do, we need the water and it gives me time to gather paint supplies. I set it on the floor of our small kitchen before taking my satchel from my waist.

  With no time to relax, I run out of the kitchen to set the fire in the oven before heading to the vegetable garden to pick the vegetables I will cook with the lamb.

  Once I’m finished in the kitchen, I run after my siblings to get them to take a bath. Father will not be happy if he returns and they aren’t bathed.

  But they just giggle, running like maniacs.

  “Stop it, you rascals!” I yell after them as they duck into the barn. Panting heavily, thighs burning, I stop in front of the barn before entering. It’s silent with no sign of them.

  “I will tell Farrah if you don’t come out.”

  Our stepmother isn’t that fond of disobedient children. She isn’t cruel for no reason, but she has no patience at all to deal with insolent children. And she doesn’t spare the rod, much to our displeasure.

  As a result, the twins are always getting in trouble with her and are afraid of the whip. But you would think they would remember that when they get into mischief.

  Their little giggles give them away and I approach the hay. I see Simon’s feet first and pull him by his ankle. He lets out a high-pitched squeal, and Tabitha laughs hysterically as her twin squeals.

  “Ouch!” he screams.

  I grab his ears, pulling him up. I pull Tabitha as well and lead them back to the house with their naughty ears.

  “Ow, sister!” Tabitha yelps.

  “Get in the bath. You know father will be back any minute then we will all be in trouble.” I scold them.

  “We were just playing a little.”

  Tabitha works her doe-eye sorcery on me. Sighing, I let their ears go and take their hands.

  I leave them to bathe themselves and head back to the kitchen. I wipe all the surfaces in the house to make sure everything is tidy when father and Farrah return. Nothing like Farrah’s displeasure at dirt in her home.

  I slave away and after a while, I am back in the kitchen when I hear father and Farrah talking outside.

  When I step out, warm hands envelop my body and I relax immediately, knowing who it is.

  “Hello, my darling.” Samson’s hoarse voice comes in my ear and excitement zaps through me. I turn in his embrace, and he chuckles, looking down at my very sweaty face.

  “Looks like you have been a busy bee. The twins give you trouble?”

  He smiles kindly at me, and I sigh before saying, “You know them.”

  Sniffing the air, he takes my hands and smells them. “Are those dahlias and…blueberries I smell on you?”

  I smile shyly, knowing I’ve been caught.

  But his face twists in a frown like it always does when he finds out I go to pick flowers for my paint.

  “I’ve told you that it’s dangerous out there, Thalia.”

  I pull my hands from his quickly, annoyance flaring inside me. He just doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why I paint, why I need to. He thinks my focus should be home activities and learning to be a better seamstress.

  I haven’t had the gall to tell anyone I hate seaming clothes. Though I would never dare, even the gods would strike me down. A woman who hates seaming clothes? Surely, she is possessed by devils and must be cast to the dark realm to be eaten by the slime.