~Fritjof'''s POV~
I felt so bad. My herbalism wasn't working anymore. Why isn't it working?! I put Ylva to sleep and ran out to a statue of my father.
"Father, I-I need guidance. P-please help me. My f-friend is d-dying... no... my crush is dying. Please father." I beg, falling to my knees as rain poured, hitting my cloak and soaking it heavily. Just then, a flash of green light happened and I turned around when I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see my father, his angled jawline, mischievous grin and long black hair. His emerald eyes glimmered.
"You called?" He jokes.
"Father, it's Ylva. She's been injured and my herbs aren't doing anything."
"Lead me to her." I nodded, walking quickly to my room with Father on my heels.
"You seem to care for her very much."
"Ylva? Y-yes. I love her, father." He chuckled.
"Finally." He jokes, pinching my ear. I glared.
"What do you mean?"
"Finally, I'll be a grandfather before I die hopefully." I blushed.
"F-father!" I shout, then opening the door. Ylva was awake again.
"Fritjo- Hi Mr. Odinson."
"Please Ylva, I was good friends with your father, call me Loki." Ylva nodded.
"To what do I owe the honor?" She asks, looking at me confusedly. Father spoke up.
"I'm here to tend to you." Father says, walking to Ylva.
"Th-there's no nee- Ah!" She shouted when my father lifted her shirt.
"There is a need. This is Jotun, Fritjof, you should've called me sooner, child." He said, hitting me upside the head. "Now Leave please. I need to tend to her alone."
YOU ARE READING
Myths and Tales
AdventureWell you see I got bored and was watching Merlin when I got this great idea for a story based off of Norse mythology and it goes like this; A group of friends, all from the different ancient Norse Houses, even the long forgotten House of the Wolf, a...
