A Fitting Winter Theme Post From My Second Book.
Though this is the second chapter of my book. I feel given the holiday season we are in, this is the perfect chapter for you to read, and doesn’t put anything out of context. Enjoy, and have a lovely holiday season and the brightest of New Year.
Chapter 2:
Winter’s Gift
It was cold inside Winter’s Sanctuary, but what could one expect from the Lord of ice and snow. Winter had a stone mansion on his private island near the geothermal spas in Iceland. Some might think the ice god Winter would love a Sanctuary encased in ice or some futuristic architecture with sharp lines reminiscent of a frozen wonderland, but that wasn’t the case.
He loved Iceland, not just for the name, which was his doing, but because of its untouched grandeur. It was the unique blend of comfy, cozy, and cold that Winter loved. There was something about seeing snowcapped mountains while resting in a lagoon that captivated him—he could stay there for hours staring at its majestic beauty.
When the Eternals were first given governance over the Realms and were designing ideas for landscapes, Lord Winter came up with the suggestion of mountains, with ice encasing them. He originally wanted to call mountains “fjalls,” however, everyone decided against it. Winter, however, was still given the honor of constructing the apotheosized edifices. He worked with Lady Summer to move the earth and create volcanos, for her or mountains, for him.
The harmony of creation. Summer had the fire, and he had the ice.
He stood in front of the window, which was a thin glistening sheet of translucence ice. His Sanctuary overlooked Mount Esja, and the view was breathtaking. So much so, he lost track of time as he hummed delightfully to himself.
The winter season was in mid-swing, and the mountains had the perfect amount of snow. He wouldn’t dare change a section of it. The glaciers all around Iceland were still intact, though he would have to talk to the new Lady of Summer, for his former sister would get a bit too carried away and sometimes melt too much of his glaciers. Especially nowadays, the previous Summer felt like she was entitled to the whole planet.
More than a thousand years ago, Winter left Norway to pursue a new home. In Norway, Winter was a god, not just any god, but Odin. He loved Viking culture, as he should have since he created it. The problem was, Winter wasn’t as cold as Vikings perceived him to be. The marauding, bloodthirsty warriors and berserkers of legend were something a young Winter had grown to appreciate, but as time passed, he found he wasn’t the same Eternal anymore.
One day he ventured to Greenland and talked to his son Erik the Red and grandson Leif Erikson. They were always accommodating and hospitable. They spoke of the Vinland, which would later become North America, and the new settlements in Iceland, which were flourishing. The name Iceland immediately perked his interest. He had heard stories of it but never strayed far from Northern Europe unless he visited a relative. When Vikings wanted to name the land, he gave them their blessing to name the island Iceland after him.
His son Erik and grandson Leif understood what they were, and much to Winter’s surprise, able to keep it a secret. Many Eternal children can’t wait to flaunt their godly paternal status, which is why many of them have suffered untold heartache or met tragic ends. No matter who you were, cult hero, or godling, you couldn’t run around telling everyone you’re the son of Death, daughter of Fall, or daughter of Wrath.
Early humans didn’t know how to handle it.
While dining with Erik and Leif, he told them he had grown tired of the endless conquests in his name. Vikings were prepping for another war that sometimes didn’t occur or the conquest of England mid-ninth century. War didn’t have the same meaning. They asked if he was growing weary of this world. But he told them he thought a change of scenery would be best, so he moved to Iceland.
He remembered clearly when he first stepped foot in Reykjavik. It was Wodensday, his day—a day devoted to Odin. He took a ship with his grandson Leif, heading to the Vinland on another adventure.
When he first stepped foot onto the pier, he gasped. Fishing boats maneuvered around, bringing the day’s cargo as people milled about with furs and harvested meats. The hunters ventured from one trading post to the next, and people stood in front of various stands selling cloth, herbs, and loaves of bread. It was the kind of life he’d been looking for, an honest, simple life.
As he made his way into the town center, people could feel his energy and gravitate towards him. That night he dined with the townsfolk and never looked back.
It was New Year’s Day at his Sanctuary back in the present day. The holiday passed, and he spent the time with his family, though Lucas didn’t attend due to his health. His sisters were looking after him.
It was the busiest time for his eldest son, Nicholas. He went by many names, Santa Claus, Saint Nicholas, Kris Kringle, Sinterklaas, and though his father personified Nordic traditions, Nicholas preferred Father Christmas. It was a great honor for an Eternals to have a series of days dedicated to him.
A gentle hand rest on his shoulder. It was his lovely wife, Katrín. She wore a seamless light blue gown with white sequins and various stone jewelry that mimicked snowflakes. “Dinner is ready, my love,” Katrín said. Her voice was soft and comforting. Hilda, their pet wolf, nuzzled her head into Katrín’s thigh.
Katrín was a human he had bestowed eternal life to, and she lived with him for over a century. He didn’t say anything but smiled subtly and nodded.
They walked into his great hall, which was at the heart of his Sanctuary. Three chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each with thick white candles that cast the room in a gentle, warm glow. An array of food lay across the massive oaken table. Squash soup, dried apples, nuts, potatoes served many ways, and a fresh ham still steaming from coming out of the oven. Festooned along the wall were red and gold drapes, which gave the hall a cozier, more intimate feel.
Winter sat down at the head of the table, while Katrín sat to his right, while their twin daughters were to his left, and Nicholas sat across from his father. A goblet of wine rested in front of his plate filled with a rich, deep red wine.
“What plagues you, father?” Liv asked. She was a comforting, sweet child, a bit flighty, but she meant well. Her hair was in a constant state of frizz, and her clothes were mismatched, a sheer black skirt over blue jeans with a t-shirt from a movie. “It’s an eclectic look,” as she would put it.
“Everything’s fine, sweetheart,” Winter said dismissively.
“Come now, darling. You’re a terrible liar, and you always have been,” Katrín said as she placed a reassuring hand on top of his.
“Just tell me who hurt you, so I can destroy them,” Siri, the other twin growled through gritted teeth. She took pride in her name. It was an old Scandinavian name meaning “beautiful victory,” and she embodied it in every way. Siri was a girl with fiery red hair, tightly wound into two braids that hung at the sides. She had an itch to prove herself, and at sixteen, her father felt she was ready to join the Stewards. It’s all Siri dreamed about since she was old enough to hold her first ax.
Winter chuckled, “I don’t need you to destroy anyone. I am still a bit drained from the battle at Death’s Sanctuary.” In the days following the battle at Death’s Sanctuary, news of the twin’s adventure spread across all the papers in the other Realms. In one day, everyone knew who Sierra and Sean were.
“Any word from Lucas or anyone else from the camp?” Liv asked, and Winter hoped they didn’t notice him flinch. He never knew about his grandkids, but once he learned of their existence, he did everything he could to find them, only to discover they were at the camp. By then, the Family had been so divided, he didn’t know who to trust, and he lashed out against the Stewards for taking care of his lineage.
The whole series of events only left him feeling empty.
“They’re good. The fight at the Sanctuary was incredibly taxing on everyone. After recovering, they will go through extensive training to heighten their powers, and they will need it in the months and years to come.”
“And what about Michelle and Joanna?” Siri asked. This time, there was a noticeable pause. He knew they were trying to get their father to open up, which wasn’t an easy thing, especially for Lord Winter.
Before he could croak out a response, Nicholas interrupted by clearing his throat, “I forgot to mention, father. I was so busy with the holiday that I neglected to give you this.” He snapped his fingers. A present materialized in front of Winter. A perfectly wrapped silver package with a gold ribbon bow hovered in front of him before settling on his lap. “Consider it a late Christmas present,” he smiled with a warm rosiness in his cheeks.
“Go on, father. Open it!” Liv and Siri said in unison.
Winter tentatively moved his hands around the package. Presents weren’t something he was accustomed to, even if his son was Father Christmas. He usually helped his son give out presents and enjoyed people’s reactions. He carefully opened the gift, trying not to damage the packaging, and saw a simple cream-colored department store box. The box housed an ornate wooden picture frame with Merry Christmas and Happy Yule carved across the top. Inside the casing was a picture of Michelle and Joanna, who sat on either side of their brother. He was still a bit banged up, the left side of his face bandaged, but he didn’t look any worse for wear. On the back of the frame was a note:
Dear Grandfather,
Sorry, we couldn’t spend the holiday with you, but Lucas is still unable to travel. Master Diane’s orders. Uncle Nicholas said he would get this to you ASAP. We hope that it comes in time.
Merry Christmas! And Happy Yule!
Love,
Lucas, Michelle, and Joanna
His bottom lip quivered, but he forced it into a smile. Winter had few children, four in total, and no grandchildren, until he met these three. Many Eternals have large families, with nearly endless family trees, but Winter didn’t. He wasn’t the kind of being to have numerous children. It was also hard for the Lord of ice and snow to open a frozen heart to someone else.
Having grandchildren made things different.
Winter rose and walked over to his ice pit. He placed the picture on top of the mantle and rubbed the engraving. Tears rolled down his cheeks and froze before they fell.
As he turned around, Liv crashed into her father, wrapping her arms around him in a massive hug, “Merry Christmas, daddy.”