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[haunted-xander]

Drawing every kh original character 8/9

[mythologyfolklore]

Baldr in Hel - Ch. 03

(A/N: Baldr and Nanna talk things out and Hel is just in it for the drama)

.

Hel's POV

Two more days passed (it had been four days since Baldr had arrived) and Hel noticed, that the Bright One was growing more quiet.

At first she had just assumed, that he just adjusting to his new home.

But today he was wearing a concerned expression. Hel decided, that she didn't like it. Now, that the burdens of his old life were off his shoulders, she wanted him to smile genuinely. It looked so cute, when he genuinely smiled. But now he was having that troubled look on his face and that was not cute. The Norns knew his life had been troubled enough.

At lunch she brought it up: “Something is worrying you, Óðinnson. What is it?”

Baldr seemed embarrassed at being called out like that, but he cleared his throat: “Ahem, I don't want to offend you.”

Hel chuckled; his politeness was just so adorable. “Go ahead, Baldr. While I could just read your mind, I'd much prefer, if you opened up by yourself.”

Seemingly a little less awkward now, the light god continued: “You have been so kind to me the last days. I'm really thankful for that.”

“I can hear a 'but' in that sentence.”

“Uhm, yes, well … I don't really miss Asgard, but I do miss some of my family members.”

“Understandable.”

“And I worry about Nanna. I … you give me so many honours. I get to have my own quarters and I dine at your table, while she has to shovel snow …” He broke off.

The Mistress of the Dead motioned for him to go on.

“I don't question your judgement – how could I? But I still feel like her punishment is too harsh and the honours I receive are more than I deserve – hear me out!”, he pleaded, when she opened her mouth to protest, “I know, that she wasn't a faithful wife and that she cheated on me, but the truth is that I've never done anything to earn faithfulness in the first place! I never kissed her in private, never confided or trusted in her and my efforts to make our marriage work were … poor. I wasn't the loving husband I should have been. Whatever affection I showed her was out of obligation and because we had a reputation to uphold. I cared about her, but that's not the same. And once our son arrived, he was my top priority. I didn't even desire her in the way a husband should with his wife.”

“Ah, yes.” Hel couldn't help but smirk in amusement. “In all the centuries of your marriage you've had sex, like … four times? How has no one ever questioned your masculinity?”

“It's not funny!”, Baldr reproached her.

“Of course not, I'm sorry”, she apologised. “I guess crudeness comes with being a Jötunn. Go on.”

He frowned, but finished: “Bottom line is, I couldn't really give her the kind of love and attention she deserved as my wife. So of course she sought it elsewhere. I can't even say that I was surprised, when I caught her making out with my brother.”

“But it still hurt you.”

“Yes. Even so, I do not blame her.”

“Still you should have confronted her”, Hel told him with a frown. “An open conversation held on an equal level and with the willingness to see the other's point of view can do a world of good. At least it would have made your relationship healthier, had you been open with each other.”

Baldr looked so miserable, that she couldn't help but pity him.

“Now obviously you two weren't meant to be, marriage or not”, she went on more gently. “And now you're both dead. I think it's time you resolve your issues and move on. Don't you agree?”

.

Nanna's POV

.

Four days.

At least Nanna estimated that this was how long she had been here, since her only indication of the passing of time were the breaks.

But it didn't matter, she supposed, because she had been sentenced to snow shovelling in the palace garden non-stop.

The weather was awful out here. It was so icy, that your breath froze in the air, the fog made it hard to see further than a few steps and the frosty wind did its own work. But something told the dead goddess, that beyond the walls of the garden it was even worse. This was nothing like the peaceful, calm winter nights in Asgard. They had reflected the discreet, equable and aloof nature of the blind god, who had presided over them. Here it was just as inhospitable as could be expected of a place located in Niflheimr.

At least Nanna wasn't alone here. There were several other dead souls, who had committed wrongs that weren't bad enough to merit actual punishments, but still came with consequences. The dead goddess had quickly got to know some of the other workers and was currently bonding with the Midgardian woman, who was shovelling the snow off the path next to her.

“It's not always this windy”, the woman tried to soothe Nanna. “Sometimes it's so quiet, that we can get it done within half a day.”

“Well, today isn't such a day!”, Nanna grumbled. “Anyway-”, she shovelled some ice off the path, “-what are you here for?”

“Mortally wounded my brother-in-law, when he tried to rape me. You?”

“Cheated on my husband.”

The Midgardian gave her a glance of surprise. “But why are you here, then? Normally-”

“I know, it's weird”, Nanna interrupted, “But our marriage was so miserable, that – ugh! – Lokadóttir actually had pity.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing”, the other woman remarked and prodded at the ice on the way with her shovel. “Normally the queen sentences adulterers to suffer in a snake pit or to be chew toys for Níðhöggr, the dragon who chews at the roots of Yggdrasil. She must have had a really good reason to be as lenient with you as she was. Did he abuse you or anything?”

“No. Our marriage was just really loveless, while we played the happy couple in front of everyone. Our marriage was arranged, you see. At first I was ecstatic. But after a while, it became clear to me, that he wasn't happy with our marriage – or me, for that matter!”

“What a bummer!”, the Midgardian commented. “And that never changed?”

“Hehe, nope!”, Nanna snorted. “Never. I tried so hard to get him to love me, but it was wasted! He was always sweet to me, but he was sweet to everyone, so that meant nothing! All his tenderness towards me meant nothing! Marriage is supposed to be a partnership, but he and I each were on our own, always! Where was the point in that?!”

Her sight blurred and she sniffled, but vehemently rubbed her eyes on her sleeve. There was no way she would cry, not here, not now, not about this.

“Eventually I resigned myself to the fact, that I was trapped in a loveless and unhappy relationship, while everyone called me the luckiest woman in Asgard – hah! I was embellishment! Baldr's pretty wife, that was my signature feature! And that was enough for all the other women to envy or even hate me! Can you imagine how many hate letters and death threats I got?!”

She shovelled the snow and ice away even harder in an attempt to channel her hurt into anger, instead of tears, while her co-worker stared at her in obvious disbelief.

“But I never once complained! And why would I have?”, Nanna scoffed bitterly. “I was married to Baldr, the best of the Æsir! Who would have believed me? And we had a reputation to keep, so all I could do was suck it up. I had a nice home, a beautiful, gentle husband, we had a wonderful son and everything was perfect!”

It was so hard not to cry right now. Especially not with who she knew was standing a few steps behind her.

But she swallowed the lump in her throat and kept ranting: “Of course it was! He didn't make me feel undesirable or like I wasn't enough, with how he always avoided me and slept with his back to me, like he couldn't bear to even look at me in bed – not to mention we never even had intercourse, except for four tries – four! – at having a child! He didn't leave me wondering what I was doing wrong! He wouldn't even let us be best friends or something! Oh, and did I mention his insecurities and severe depression? But he never once came to me with his troubles, so why would I go to him with mine? The only ones who noticed, that I even had any, were Loki's wife Sigyn (she's the best, really) and my brother-in-law Hermóðr! So I stopped trying to be the perfect wife, because the latter appreciated me more than my husband ever did!”

She ceased her pitiful attempts at holding back her tears.

“And that's how the affair happened! He was the one, who gave me attention, wanted me, held and kissed me, told me I was beautiful and listened to me! He was the one, who … who …”

“Made you feel loved?”, the person behind her finished the sentence for her.

With another sniffle she turned around to glare at the newcomer.

There stood Baldr, looking absolutely devastated (good! He better be!) and Hel, looking somewhat sombre.

“Nanna …”, he began, but she cut him off: “Oh, so now you want to talk?! Thousands of years of marriage, in which you only interacted with me out of obligation and politeness and now that we're both dead, now you finally hear me?! You – you unbelievable, oblivious-!”

Hel interrupted by clearing her throat: “Ahem! Would you two mind settling this inside?”

Then the queen directed her attention to the other workers in the garden and ordered, with a voice as eldritch as herself: “And what are you all standing around and gawking? Get back to work!”

.

Baldr's POV

.

Hel had directed them to the audience hall and told them to wait there for her.

In the meantime Nanna and Baldr had to deal with being alone with each other.

The atmosphere between them was so tense and thick, it could have been cut with a knife.

He so desperately wanted to say something, but suddenly there was this huge clot in his throat.

Nanna stood there, frowning and with her arms folded.

“Well? Didn't you want to talk?”

“I … uh … I … uhm …”

Seriously?! Now that he really needed to say something, he couldn't? Where was his eloquence, when he needed it?!

She was arching an eyebrow.

After a while Baldr grew frustrated at his own failure and tore at his hair. “Shit!”

He stopped short. Had he just …?

Nanna gawked at him. “Did … did you just …?”

Baldr flushed in embarrassment, while Nanna broke into laughter: “I can't believe it! You said the s-word! I don't think I've ever heard you use it before!”

“That's because I never did”, he mumbled sheepishly.

But now that the ice was broken a little, he decided to try again.

“Okay, take two. Nanna … it's really hard to tell you how sorry I really am, without making it sound like I'm feeling sorry for myself or like I'm trying to justify my actions. Which obviously would be really insulting. Even so … I'm sorry. I deeply truly am. I'm sorry, that all these things didn't occur to me, while we were alive. I'm sorry that I couldn't love you, like a husband should have. I could never get past the fact, that I never wanted to marry and you had to pay the price – that was beyond unfair of me. I was so busy trying to please everybody else, that I forgot about the one person I should have cared for the most. I'm sorry I didn't give you what you needed and wanted. I'm sorry I never let you in, even though you were my wife. I guess Loki was right”, he chuckled bitterly. “His roller coaster of a marriage with Sigyn is healthier than our relationship was. At least they love and trust each other. I did neither of those for you, so how could you have done it for me? Your bitterness and resentment are justified and in the end, I deserved what I got.”

With that his apology was finished.

For what felt like an eternity silence hovered over them.

Nanna's expression was unreadable and Baldr was starting to fear, that she would lash out.

To his surprise she smiled. “Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?”

He returned the smile: “Once I stopped flipping out, no, I suppose not. But seriously – why did you never confront me? Obviously I didn't realise myself what a git I was being, so why didn't you tell me?”

“Well, firstly: like you just said, you always were so bent on pleasing everyone, that you had an internal breakdown, whenever it seemed like you couldn't. Had I told you, I wasn't happy, it would've crushed you. I couldn't have that.”

“Uhm-”

“Apapapapapah! Secondly: you're a downright sensitive plant!”

“A what?!”

“You heard me.”

Baldr gasped and theatrically clutched his chest. “Nanna! How ever could you say such a thing!”, he cried and let himself drop to the floor, like the drama queen he was. “You're wounding my heart! Your words are sharper than the dart that pierced me! Oh the agony! What ever shall I do?”

She chortled: “Baldr, stop!”

He didn't stop.

“My last shred of pride has been shattered! There goes what little bit of masculinity I had! Millennia of being the god of light, peace, purity and justice, being a judge and advisor to the other Æsir, enduring their nonsense and putting on a brave face despite all hardships! A sensitive plant! What a choice of words! So liking nature, gardening, wisdom and knowledge more than fighting and getting drunk off my butt makes me a wimp? Now that's just hurtful! And from my former wife too! How could you betray me like this?! Oh, the tragedy!”

At this point Nanna was doubling over with laughter.

“Baldr! Stop – hihihihi – I can't take it – hahahaaha – it's too much!”

Baldr grinned up at her. “Hmm … I don't know …”

“Come on”, a new voice chuckled. “Have some pity, Bright One.”

The dead god blushed furiously, when he spied Hel leaning against the entrance and regarding the scene with a smug smirk.

“Uhm … I can explain-”

“Don't bother”, Hel laughed. “I've been standing here the entire time. I just didn't say anything, because I wanted to see, if you two could resolve your issues on your own.”

“They're not resolved yet”, Nanna objected.

“You're right”, Hel agreed. “But it's a good start. Things can only get better from here. Keep it up and you might become actual friends.”

The Queen of the Dead came over and helped him stand up.

“By the way, Nanna, your punishment is over”, she let the dead goddess know. “From now on you're allowed to dine at my table with Baldr. Come. You must be hungry. I asked my servants to keep the lunch warm, since thanks to a certain someone we didn't get to finish it.”

Baldr's blush deepened.

“Let's go”, the queen said nonchalantly and made her way back to the dining hall, followed by a still flustered Baldr and by Nanna, who was grinning smugly for some reason.

When he gave her a questioning look, her smirk grew wider and she motioned into Hel's direction.

“Not a word”, he muttered and blushed harder, making Nanna snicker like a plotting court lady.

[leisurelypanda]

Thanksgiving Day came with Thor having slept barely a wink the previous evening. He couldn't stop thinking about his lover. They had hardly spent a day apart since the week off from school had begun. He remembered the scars he had first seen a couple weeks ago. It was not at all what he had expected. When Steve said that his father had been abusive, somehow that did not lead him to expect actual physical scars. He felt angry any time he thought about them. So much made sense now. Steve's anxiety, his hesitancy, his self-doubt. Thor never wished to fix something so much or felt so utterly powerless in his life.

He reminded himself that it was Thanksgiving, not a day for morose thoughts. Steve would be coming and, gods willing, it would be a peaceful day. He offered up a silent prayer to Baldr that his father would keep the peace today. Though he had never admired Steve so much as the day he witnessed him standing up to his father, his father was… not one to let something go. It did concern him, though it had not come up again in the days since.

He roused himself and stumbled downstairs. Mr. Baker was polishing the silverware in preparation for the meal today. He could already smell Mrs. Bianchi’s cooking.

“Mr. Baker, can you get me some coffee, white, double shot of espresso?” he asked.

“Of course, sir.”

He groaned and sat down at the island, mindful of the delicate silverware on its surface. He massaged his face as he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.

“Trouble, sir? You're up unusually early today,” Mr. Baker remarked.

Thor groaned again. “It is nothing.”

“Has it to do with the young Mr. Rogers, perhaps?”

Thor scowled at his butler. The man could be very observant for someone who was so quiet. He must have made a face or something.

“I wish I knew how to help him,” he said. Mr. Baker said nothing as he handed him his coffee. “I know that I cannot fight his battles for him, but I feel like I should be doing more.”

“Your support itself may be of inestimable value, sir,” Mr. Baker said.

“Is it? I wonder,” he grumbled.

“Come now, sir,” Mr. Baker chastised gently. “You cannot think that your companionship and affections do nothing to assist him.”

“I do not think it meaningless,” Thor mused over a sip of his coffee.

“But you wish there was more to be done,” Mr. Baker finished.

“Exactly.”

Mr. Baker said nothing as he continued on in his task. Thor focused on the smells wafting through the air from the kitchen. He could smell bread. There was no sign of the turkey, yet. There probably wouldn't be any for a few hours yet.

“I don't know what you see in him,” said a voice that could only be Odin. “You would do well to put him aside and find someone who is capable of fully appreciating you.”

Thor sighed. It is too early for this.

“Father I do not believe that he is as distasteful as you claim,” he replied carefully. “And he had the courage to stand up to you, which you cannot say about my exes.”

“The courage to be uncouth and discourteous is only a virtue for those who lack refinement,” his father countered. “He is unworthy of us.”

Thor snapped. One moment he was setting his coffee down, the next he punched his father in the face. The staff gasped as the master of the house stumbled. He was very, very quiet. He glared at his son and for a moment, then swung a fist into his stomach. Thor stumbled back as the wind was knocked out of him. Then he grabbed Odin’s neck, trying to get leverage. Instead they began to grapple in the kitchen until Thor managed to get the upper hand and kicked him in the stomach. Odin was knocked back and a rage flashed across his face. Thor considered fleeing. His father drew himself to his full height and glared at him. He steeled himself.

“You will not shame my lover,” he said.

“I am your father,” Odin growled. “You would dishonor me by choosing him?”

Stop. Do not make it worse, he told himself. Unfortunately, he wasn't feeling very receptive.

“You dishonor yourself,” he declared, “if you, my family, make me choose between you and Steve.”

They stared each other down. Thor's heart raced with each passing moment, wondering if they were about to brawl in the kitchen. He was not actually sure if he could take his father in a fight.

He was spared by his mother appearing between them. She faced his father and though Thor could not see her face, he could feel the coldness emanating from her. He wasn't sure whether to be more afraid of her or his father.

“He is right, husband,” she said. Her voice was quiet, but clear. “You dishonor us all if you refuse to extend the hospitality we promised.”

Odin scowled at his wife for a moment then relaxed in defeat.

“We will discuss this later,” he said as he left the room. As soon as he was gone, Thor released a breath he had not known he had been holding.

“He will not forgive those blows soon, you know,” she said to him. “Even if you were justified.”

He sighed and downed the rest of his coffee. Maybe he would have time to work out and let off some steam before Steve arrived. -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thor was having an unusual amount of trouble with his tie. His hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, his beard was trimmed, he was dressed in his best suit, but gods damn him, he was confounded by the tie. He was nearly on top of the mirror trying to get the small piece of cloth secured properly.

“Trouble, brother?” Loki said from the door. “You always were so easy to rile up.”

“Loki I'm not in the mood for your antics,” he grumbled.

“Come now, brother,” Loki said, turning his body to face him. He calmly and deftly began to tie. “I am only needling you.”

Thor sighed. Loki could not help poking fun. It was in his nature to make light of serious situations. Perhaps it was a blessing in a way, but Thor could not appreciate it at the moment.

“I heard about your fight with father,” Loki said as he finished. “Is it wise to antagonize him so?”

“You do not understand, brother,” Thor replied. “Your Tony could do everything that Steve has done and father would approve because of his family. But Steve cannot seem to find favor with father because of a misunderstanding months ago. Father cannot see past his own nose sometimes.”

“Father is unreasonable, yes,” Loki said. “And he has never let go of a grudge unless there was opportunity for gain. But you cannot allow him to goad you into foolishness.”

Thor grumbled.

“Besides,” Loki continued. “You never know. He could get what's coming to him.”

“If only,” Thor muttered.

“Indeed,” his brother said. “Now, Mr. Baker left to get you beau and his mother. They will be back soon. Wipe that scowl from your face and remember that this is a day for gratitude.”

Thor sighed, then he smiled. He embraced his brother warmly against his groans of protest.

“Thank you Loki,” Thor said. “You are right, as usual.”

“I know I'm right,” Loki groaned. “But do you have to be so sentimental?”

“I thought you said it was a day of gratitude, dear brother,” Thor teased, hugging him tighter. “And I am grateful for my dear brother, whom I love very much.”

“I take it back,” he groaned. “I hate you and I don't care if you and father quarrel. I'm never helping you again.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve arrived about half an hour later in a sharp suit and tie. Thor was pretty sure that it was the same suit that he had worn to their little rooftop dance for Homecoming. Not that he minded, Steve looked amazing.

“Steve,” he said as he leaned down to kiss him. “You look wonderful. And you, Sarah, look lovely as well. I am so glad you could come.”

“We're happy to be here, babe,” Steve said. Thor's heart warmed at the endearment. He took his hand and laced their fingers together. Steve was starting to use it more frequently now. Perhaps he was becoming more confident.

“Dinner is not quite ready yet,” he said. “Care to join me in the living room for some fondue?”

“Fondue?” Steve asked with a hint of a smile. “Chocolate or cheese?”

“Cheese now, chocolate later,” Thor said. He remembered their last run in with fondue and the… find memories he had from that night. “But we’re in polite company so… just fondue today.”

“Shame,” Steve said. “I was looking forward to that.”

“And what, Steve Rogers,” his mother said with a smile as Mr. Baker took her coat. “Happened the last time you had fondue?”

And just like that Steve's face turned a lovely shade of red that was becoming Thor's favorite color. Especially on Steve.

“Homecoming?” Steve said. His mother chuckled at his expense.

Well, he is not wrong, Thor thought with a chuckle. Steve turned to glare at him.

“Well, I hope you made good choices over your fondue, dear,” she teased.

Steve ducked his head until she passed. He shuffled awkwardly looking for all the,world like a fish out of water. He was cute when he was flustered. Thor could not help but find it endearing, even as he felt compelled to either make it worse or save him from his suffering. He offered him his arm. Steve raised an eyebrow but hooked his arm through and let Thor lead him.

Thor did not lead him to the living room or to the fondue station. He led him past the dignitaries and the distinguished guests, the politicians and the businessmen. He did not know why any of these people were here. His father must have invited them. As a diplomat, he made many powerful associates and holidays were ideal times to “strengthen the bonds of friendship for our mutual benefit.” His father might be working for the Swedish government, but he took advantage of the perks the position offered.

He took him to the back porch where there were fewer people. Loki and Tony were nearby, getting away from the attendees. Few took interest in them, honestly. However, that did not prevent a few privilege seeking exceptions from trying to put their single daughters, nieces, granddaughters, or those of close friends onto them as potential partners. It happened at nearly every party his father threw. Thor felt more than a little smug as he walked around with Steve on his arm. There were a few dirty looks but nothing serious.

The sun was beginning to set. Steve leaned on the railing and looked out towards the horizon.

“Is it always like this around major holidays?” he asked.

“Steve, my father is a politician,” Thor said, wrapping an arm around his waist. “We do not know the meaning of a small family get together or observing holidays with only the four of us.”

“It just seems so…” he trailed off.

“Stuffy? Like everyone here is trying to get something from you?” Thor finished.

“Exactly.”

“Trust me,” he said leaning back and looking down at him. “I have been attending these ridiculous parties for years. All of these people would stab each other in the back if they thought it would benefit from it.”

“Socially or literally?” Steve asked with a grinned.

“I would not be at all surprised if both happened,” Thor replied with a laugh. Steve chuckled.

“Well as long as the party is exciting, right?” he said with a shy grin.

“Älskling, as much as I wish to be a gracious host and keep you entertained,” he said with a grin. “I do not think that going to jail is quite worth it.”

“Yeah, I think I prefer that you stay free, too,” Steve said. “I’d miss kissing you.”

“That is the only reason you would wish me to be free?” Thor asked, kissing him on the temple. “Not my handsome face, or my gallant rescues, or sense of humor?”

Thor left a trail of kisses until he reached his lips. Steve parted his lips and sighed into his mouth. He came away and stroked his face with a finger, lingering on Steve’s pouty bottom lip.

“You would not miss any of these things?” Thor asked.

“Well, your ass looks much better in dress pants than whatever it is prisoners wear,” he admitted with a sly grin.

“My arse?” Really?” Thor chuckled. “I believe, älskling, that is the first time you have complimented that particular... asset.”

“I’m never complimenting it again if you’re going to do that,” he groaned.

“Come on,” Thor goaded. “I do not mean to be an arse, but surely you can find it within yourself to say it again.”

“I know I’ve said it before,” Steve said. “Right, I said it at Samhain! While you were getting me food from that pig.”

“So perhaps I need to go bend over a punch bowl?” Thor teased.

“You know,” Steve said, straightening. “I suddenly find myself parched. Is there punch?”

“There is punch,” Thor replied with a grin. “There is the alcoholic kind and the non-alcoholic kind. I assume you wish for the latter?”

Steve was quiet for a moment. “I’d like to try the one with alcohol,” he said.

“Really?” Thor asked. “I will, of course, support you, but do not feel as though you should do anything you do not want to do simply to please me.”

“My counselor says it might be helpful to be… exposed to alcohol,” he said. “Says that being around it and knowing it won’t hurt me might help. And drinking it, you know, is the next step, right?”

“What about your medication?” Thor asked. “Can you drink while taking them?”

“I… haven’t taken my medication today,” Steve replied. “I have it, though, just in case.”

Thor, of course, admired his bravery. And he wanted to be supportive of his decisions. But he still worried.

“Thor,” Steve said, looking up at him. Thor must have had a look on his face again. Or perhaps Steve was familiar enough with him that he was becoming easy to read. “You can’t keep me safe from my anxiety.”

Thor looked down at him and cupped his face in one hand.

“I just want to help you however I can,” he said. “I cannot help wanting to keep you safe.”

“I always feel safe with you, babe,” he said. “And it’s not like I’m looking to get drunk. I was just looking to try the one drink.”

That did help to assuage his fears, somewhat. Thor offered him his arm again and led him to the punch bowl. He did not know what was in it. He preferred beer, personally. Or mead. Punch was too sweet and fruity for his taste. But it was red. So maybe it was strawberry or something.

He filled a cup halfway and handed it to Steve. Therapy or not, there was no reason why he needed to have a great deal if it was going to be an ordeal for him. Steve took it after a moment and though he put on a brave face, Thor still noticed the tremor in his hand as he took the cup. Steve stared at it for a while.

“Do you want to sit down?” Thor asked. “We can go back out to the porch, if you want.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Steve exhaled. They sat down on one of the loveseats where Steve continued to stare at the cup in his hand. Thor held Steve’s free hand and squeezed it.

“I am here, my älskling,” Thor whispered. “It is all right. You are safe. No one will hurt you here.”

Steve released another breath and, with trembling hands, raised the cup to his lips to take a sip. Thor squeezed a hand again and smiled.

“You are brave, my little hero,” he said.

“All I did was take a drink of punch,” Steve said with a nervous chuckle.

“But for you it was like staring down a giant troll and daring to fight back,” Thor said. “I am proud of you.”

Steve took another drink. His hand still trembled but he was not as hesitant.

“It’s sweet,” he said. “Tastes like… pomegranates.”

“What do you think of it?” he asked with a smile.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m not sure I know what the appeal is, but I’m not sure I’m ready to find out yet.”

“There is no need to go there if you do not wish it,” Thor assured.

“Do you know what I do wish for?” Steve asked.

“Name it.”

“Will you kiss me again?” he asked.

“Gladly.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------

The meal itself was a chore, honestly. The food was good, as always, but the constant mingling and needling and small talk got to him more than it usually did. With a crowd this size, there was usually just a buffet line with various meats and sides that Thor assumed must be common for typical American families. Buffet lines, however, meant that Thor was expected to be courteous and charming to the people around him. Whether it was because of his fight earlier with his father or because of the empty charm and grace from the guests, the social aspect of the event began to wear on him. There was one man in particular who seemed to take interest in his athletic career. He had some connections with various high profile universities around the country that he offered, or tried to anyway, in exchange for Thor putting in a good word with his father.

However, as much as he might want to tell this person off, he could not. As a member of the hosting family, it was his job to be welcoming to his guests, even if he was not technically the host.

“Thank you, sir, that is a kind offer,” he said. “But I am afraid that I do not plan on attending college next year.”

“My boy, you have too much potential,” the man protested. “Don’t squander it just before your chance to shine truly begins!”

“Thank you, sir,” he replied. “I shall consider your offer.”

Another man and his wife seemed to take inordinate interest in his dating life, marveling at the fact that he didn’t have a girlfriend. He replied that he had no interest in women, to which Steve, gods bless him, had raised his hand to his lips and kissed it. The wife sniffed with blatant disdain while her husband muttered something about traditional values or some such. Thor bristled, but reminded himself that a brawl in the middle of a diplomatic party would not endear himself to anyone, least of all his father. Even his mother would be disappointed. So he turned his attention elsewhere.

It was some time before he and Steve got through the line and were able to return to the sofa on the porch. Tony and Loki were waiting for them with the remnants of Steve’s drink. Tony seemed like he had had a few, despite the barista in charge being told that he was not of age. There were few enough teenagers at the party that it was easy to tell her which could be served drinks and which were too young.

“There’s the two lovebirds!” he exclaimed. “Come to join us in our escape from the pomp and flattery?”

“I am not sure which is more popular this year,” Thor said around a bite of turkey as he sat down. “Trying to set me up with some distant relation or trying to get me to attend university as an athlete.”

“You don’t want to be the hero of your school and go to the pros?” Tony asked, his voice a little slurred.

“I do not wish to play professionally,” Thor said.

“That sounds dumb,” he said. He flopped over on the couch next to them. “What about you Stevie boy? Anyone try to entice you?”

“Just Thor,” he said with a chuckle.

“I do not recall enticing you with anything,” Thor said innocently.

“So bending over the punch bowl was a coincidence?” Steve asked.

“You wanted punch,” Thor said.

“Stevie!” Tony said, poking him. “Stevie, Stevie, Stevie, I thought you said you didn’t drink!”

Steve scooted closer to Thor. As much as they might be friends, this drunk Tony seemed to be making him uncomfortable.

“Lay off, Tony,” Thor warned.

“We need to get you more drinks!” Tony went on, heedless of either Thor’s warning or Steve’s discomfort. “I wanna see what Stevie’s like when he’s not so straight-laced!”

“I’m only having the one,” Steve protested. “And don’t call me Stevie. Only Bucky gets to call me that. Or Thor, if he wants.”

“I am fine, älskling,” Thor replied. “I do not think the nickname suits you.”

“Come oooon!” Tony protested, handing him another cup of punch. “Don’t get gross! Steve, live a little!”

“Tony,” Loki barked. “Enough. He said he does not want any more.”

“Oh, come on, babe--”

“Tony, have you actually looked at him?” Loki demanded.

Steve was practically huddling against Thor away from Tony’s badgering. He was as far away from him as he could get without physically getting up from the couch. Thor was finding it difficult to not get up and punch his brother’s boyfriend. For such a brilliant guy, he could be remarkably dense when it came to other people.

“What are you afraid of Steve?” he demanded. “It’s just booze, it’s not like it can hurt you!”

Steve was silent and still. Thor set his plate down on the table, stepped between them, and grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

“Hey! Thor, what’d I do?!” Tony demanded.

“You need to leave,” Thor said firmly. “Now.”

“But what did I do?! I didn’t do nothing!” Tony protested.

“I will take him,” Loki said. “Come on, Tony, don’t you want to see my prank for father?”

Tony reluctantly let his boyfriend take him away. Thor sighed and sat back down next to Steve.

“Are you well, Steve?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Thank you for setting him straight.”

“Tony was out of line,” he replied. “It was no trouble.”

They ate their dinner in companionable silence. On the other side of the porch Thor saw Sarah and Mr. Baker laughing together. At least there was someone here who was actually enjoying themselves.

“You’re brooding, babe,” Steve whispered. “Come on. It’s over. Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

“Am I that obvious?” Thor asked.

“Well, I can’t speak for everyone else, but it is to me,” Steve said with a smile. He put a hand on Thor’s thigh.

“Thank you, älskling,” he said. He looked out onto the backyard. There were a few lights set up so people could see in the night. The moon was rising, now over the horizon. The city was too bright for it to provide any significant light, but it was still beautiful. “Come, let’s dance.”

“Dance?” Steve asked. “Do we even have music?”

“Come now, Steve,” Thor said with a grin as he held his hand out. “We are children of the 21st century. We always have music.”

Steve smiled at that and took his hand. They went out and Thor turned on some instrumental music and they began to sway like they did before. Part of him wanted to teach Steve how to dance properly, like a waltz or something, but he was content as it was for now.

“You know,” Steve said. “Seeing how it’s Thanksgiving and all, I should mention… I’m glad you saved me from those bullies back in August. Thank you.”

Thor was actually speechless. He looked down at his lover who was shyly resting his head on his shoulder to avoid looking at him. He became so flustered so easily it was hard not to tease him sometimes.

“I am grateful for you as well, my Steve,” he whispered. “I would not change anything that has happened these past few months for the world.”

“Really?” Steve said in disbelief.

“Why should that shock you?” Thor asked with a grin.

“I mean… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Thor, but I’m a bit of a hot mess,” he replied. “Surely I’m not the easiest person to be with.”

“Älskling,” he said. “I am not perfect either. You’ve seen my temper.”

Steve was quiet for a moment at that. It was true, when Thor was well and truly angry it was a terror to behold, but Steve felt a little better knowing that he had never actually been on the receiving end of that anger. Merely frustration.

“You do not think that you are worthy,” Thor continued. “But I must tell you, I do not think that I am worthy of you either.”

“But you’re so… amazing,” Steve said. “You’re smart and charming and beautiful and I’m just--”

“You are brave, creative, intelligent, and beautiful,” Thor insisted. “And though you may not believe me, I see it as the greatest privilege of my life thus far to call you my lover.”

Steve looked up at him with tears in his eyes.

“I want to believe you,” he said. “But I…”

“I know, my Steve,” he whispered.

“What if I never believe you?” Steve said. “What if I’m too afraid?”

“Never is a long time, Steve,” he replied. “And I promise to do everything I can to help you.”

Steve rested his head against his chest. He was shaking again. Thor paused in his swaying and held his lover tightly against him.

“I love you,” Steve whispered. Thor froze. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that, but…”

“But what?” Thor asked.

“I was afraid,” Steve said. “I mean, it doesn’t happen this fast, does it? That only happens in stories and stuff.”

“I do not know about the stories,” Thor admitted. “But I do know one thing.”

“What?” he asked looking up at him again. Thor smiled and took his face in his hands.

“I love you, too, Steve.” He pressed a kiss against his lips. Steve wrapped his arms around him and Thor grinned as he began to swing him around. Steve yelled as he was swept off his feet but laughed as they spun around. When he finally set him down, his lover steadied himself against him. And he wished that this moment would last, that they would be happy here and now, forever. -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sarah Rogers watched her son dance with his boyfriend under the night sky and smiled to herself at the sight. Steve tried to keep a brave face, but she knew that he had been lonely for a long time, even with Bucky as his friend. She remembered the day he came home from that first study session months ago and drawn this new friend with long golden hair and eyes filled with joy and kindness. She knew at that moment that something had changed.

“Are you enjoying the party?” She turned and saw the charming hostess herself, Frigga. She smiled and held a finger to her lips and nodded towards their dancing sons. Frigga joined her at the railing and watching as they swayed to some soft music she could barely make out.

“They seem happy,” she whispered. Frigga hummed in agreement. “I’m glad your son could do that for mine. Steve has not had a happy life.”

“I am glad they found each other as well. Your son is a fine young man,” Frigga said. “The best that Thor has ever dated.”

Then an enraged roar sounded from inside the house. The two women looked through the window to find… the most bizarre sight. Frigga’s husband, Odin, was covered in glitter. Well, his face was. He was calling for his son, Loki, his sparkling beard ruining what would surely have been a frightening display. They laughed at the sight and turned back around to look at their sons.

“Your son has dated other men before?” Sarah asked, wiping a tear from her eye. The boys, somehow, had not noticed the uproar at all. “He’s my son’s first.”

“He has, but they were not good for him. He has ever been quick to love and gives it freely,” Frigga replied. “I do not think he would ever admit it, but I believe his heart was broken by the last one.”

Sarah hummed in response. She knew something of what it was like to fall in love with the wrong man. It seemed like another life, now. Thor was swinging Steve around now and she could hear them laughing together. It warmed her heart to see her son happy.

“You said that your son gives his love freely,” she said. “Mine does as well.”

Frigga smiled and laid her hand over hers. They watched their sons until they kissed and turned their backs to give them some privacy. Bertie gave no notion that he had known what they were up to, but she noticed the knowing glimmer in his eye. Frigga shooed him away for drinks and leaned gracefully against the railing.

“I know,” Frigga replied with a smile.

[mythologyfolklore]

Baldr in Hel - Ch. 01

(A/N: This is another fanfic I’m rewriting. So prepare to be confronted with some crack ships (yes, I mean BaldrxHel). Also, they’re both ace and Baldr has a crap ton of issues. If you don’t like that, you’re perfectly welcome to leave.)

.

Hel's POV

Hel was sitting on her throne, just being her usual self and ruling the underworld.

Before her throne was a queue of dead souls, waiting to be assigned to their respective afterlife.

First in line was a middle-aged woman.

Hel's black eyes bored themselves into the soul in front of her.

Hmm … extreme vanity, violent outbursts of anger, abuse of servants and slaves, adultery. Died of dysentery. Gross.

“Náströnd¹. Give her to Níðhöggr² as a chew toy.”

Two servants dragged the screaming, flailing soul away.

Hel grimaced in scorn at the cries for mercy – mercy! For that scum! Who would praise her incorruptible and fair judgement, if she let evildoers get away with their crimes, just because they begged for mercy?

“Next”, she ordered.

A man stepped forward.

Pathological liar, murderer, perjurer. Fell from his horse and broke his neck. That's hilarious.

“Same as the last.”

Same reaction as the woman before him.

“Next.”

An old man.

Womaniser, but not married. Guilty of avarice. Died of old age.

“Niflheimr. He shall shovel the pathways.”

The old man let the servants take him away, muttering something that sounded like “was nice, while it lasted”.

“Next.”

A little girl.

Guiltless. Died of hypothermia. Poor little thing.

Hel's expression softened and the dead side of her face turned lively and fair, both to accommodate the innocent soul in front of her and because her face changed condition according to mood. Cute things made her happy and children were darn cute. Most of them anyway.

“Oh my Norns, you're so adorable!”, Hel cooed and the child smiled shyly. “To Helheimr with you. There are lots of children for you to play with.”

“Will I be punished?”, the girl asked frightfully.

Hel smiled gently: “Of course not. For what would I punish you? You have done nothing wrong.”

“Can Mama come too?”, the child asked and stepped to the side to reveal the woman behind her.

Hel read the woman's soul and found her to be blameless as well.

The queen smiled: “She can.”

Mother and child cried with joy and she picked her daughter up, as another servant led them away to a more pleasant life than their old one had been.

The underworld wasn't as unpleasant as everyone thought it was. The living spoke of horrible torments, but why would Hel let the innocents be tortured?

She took a moment to smile after the two, before turned back to- oh. Apparently those were all the souls for the day.

Hel just shrugged and resumed her usual blank expression. She would enjoy a few minutes of quiet, before leaving to do her paperwork.

Or not.

Because right that moment her manservant Ganglati³ entered the throne room, unusually light-footed.

After the old man had caught his breath, he addressed Hel: “Your Majesty, Queen of the Underworld, Ruler of Helheimr and Niflheimr, Lokidóttir-”

“What do you want, Ganglati?”, Hel groaned in annoyance. She really wished they would just call her by her name instead of rattling down all those titles.

“A very special guest has arrived!”, the old servant announced excitedly.

The queen was not impressed. “A 'very special guest', huh? Well, who is the unlucky soul?”

“It's Baldr Óðinnson!”

Hel's black eyes widened. Then she smirked wickedly.

Baldr. Óðinn's most beloved son. The fairest of the Æsir.

She had already been waiting for him; her tables were laid, the mead brewed.

“Hm, he took his time, didn't he?”

.

Baldr's POV

Where was he?

What had happened?

The last thing he had felt was this pain in his chest, where the mistletoe dart had pierced him.

Strangely enough it hadn't hurt as much as he had suspected.

No, what had hurt him more was what he had seen last – how Loki had tricked Höðr – his blind, darker, yet beloved twin – into shooting him. Oh poor Höðr, he had to be so heartbroken! Knowing that he had killed his brother …

Ah. Yes.

That was it.

He was dead.

And this had to be the entrance to the underworld.

Finally! No more pressure, no more getting stuff thrown my way … oh Norns, why am I like this?!

Now he just had to find the gate. A bit of a challenge in this fog.

Before he knew it, there was an obsidian bridge with a golden roof. Where had that come from?

More so, there was something inviting and mesmerising about this bridge. It called to him.

Come, it seemed to whisper to him. Cross me. Go to the afterlife. Enter the place, where you will be beyond all pain.

He chose to follow the call.

As he was in the middle of the bridge, he encountered a Jötunn, who was sitting on a watch tower. When she saw him, she jumped off her seat and greeted him briskly: “Welcome, Baldr Óðinnson. I am Móðguðr⁴, the gatekeeper of the underworld. Her Majesty, our venerated queen, is already awaiting you.”

She was? Huh.

This was exactly what Loki had told him, a night before he had murdered him.

Baldr smiled: “Well, I better hurry, then. It would be rude to keep the queen waiting, wouldn't it?”

“That it would”, the Jötunn agreed, unsmiling.

Suddenly a new voice made them both jump.

“Baldr? Where are you? Wait for me! Don't leave me here! I can't see anything in this fog!”

His blue eyes widened.

Nanna?! Oh no! When had she – okay, scratch that, he had to get away!

He stood on his tiptoes to whisper to the giantess: “I beg you, Madam, give me directions, quick!”

Her colourless eyes twinkled in amusement, though she still didn't smile.

“When you arrive at the other end of the bridge, go to the left, until you arrive at an iron gate. From there, just follow the black path, but be careful not to slip. Inside the castle are signs and layout plans, so you should find your way to the audience hall easily”, she whispered back.

He thanked her and made haste to follow her directions.

.

Hel's POV

Hel picked up her scythe and made her way to the audience hall to receive her new special subject.

The bells tied to her scythe jingled as she walked.

A long time ago, her father had given them to her, to remember her daddy by. Lucky charms he had called them. She still cherished them dearly, that was why she had tied them to her scythe in the first place: so she could take them with her, wherever she went. They were a reminder of happier times, times before the Æsir had come, had torn her and her brothers away from their mother, had bound Fenrir and thrown Jörmungandr into the sea that surrounded Midgardr and banished her to Niflheimr.

That and they were a nice change from the constant howling of the wind and wolves and the faint whispers of the dead. Their jingling was comforting (and alerted dead souls, that she was near).

She entered the audience hall to receive this indeed “very special guest”, sat on her high throne, placed the scythe on her lap and waited for the dead Ása to arrive.

.

Baldr's POV

Baldr had almost got lost in the many crooked corridors, but he had somehow managed to find the way in the end.

Eventually he found himself in a huge hall, presumably the throne room.

It was rather dark in here. The only light sources were tiny, pale blue lights, that floated through the hall like fireflies. Every time they neared the walls, their dim light would make fluorescing minerals glow.

A thick ground mist was covering the ground up to Baldr's knees, but everything above that level was perfectly visible.

As he looked around, he saw that he was standing in front of a golden throne. It was currently vacant, but he could tell, that normally the Mistress of the Dead herself sat on it.

What didn't escape Baldr, was how the tiny lights gradually orbited closer to him. Maybe they were attracted to his own glow, like moths to a flame.

This place had a foreign kind of beauty to it. It was nothing like the descriptions of Helheimr he had heard in life (well, except for the darkness and mist).

As he was standing there, taking in the ambience and letting the tiny light balls circle around him, he heard slow steps approaching the room, until from a side entrance an old lady emerged and came up to him.

“Baldr Óðinnson?”, she inquired.

“That's me”, he confirmed.

“Good”, the woman said. “Welcome to Éljúðnir⁵, the high castle and seat of Her Majesty, the queen. I am Ganglöt⁶. My mistress is expecting you in the audience hall. Follow me.”

He obeyed and followed the old maid.

All the while, he tried to figure out what she was. She wasn't an Asýnja, nor was she a Jötunn. She was clearly not a Light Alf or a Vana and, if the appearance of Iðunn was anything to go by, not a Dark Alf either. She didn't even look like any of the Midgardians he had ever encountered. Maybe an Elemental? But then the question would be what she embodied.

His train of thought was put to an end, when he and the old maidservant arrived in front of a giant fluorescing green door.

And suddenly it came back to his mind, that he was about to meet Hel Lokisdóttir – the daughter of his murderer.

Baldr took a deep breath to compose himself.

Ganglöt seemed to notice. “Are you nervous, young man?”

He nodded awkwardly.

She lifted her head to give him a small smile. “If you're remotely as virtuous as people say, you have nothing to fear”, she assured him.

Then she tapped the threshold with her walking cane and Baldr screamed in terror, when the ground between the two and the door opened up to reveal a pitfall.

“What is this?!?”, he gasped out, as he recoiled from the pit.

“Eh, just one of the little tricks her Majesty has installed”, the old lady explained.

“Little tricks???”

“Aye. And now we need to walk over the chasm.”

The bright god gawked at her. “Excuse you?! That chasm is too wide for-”

But the maid only giggled softly: “Don't wreck your pretty head, young one. Watch.”

Then she stepped forward – into the empty.

And Ganglöt walked. Over the void of the pit. As if it was solid ground.

His eyes grew even bigger. “What … how …?”

“Come”, the old woman smiled and stretched out her hand to him. “There is nothing to be afraid of. I will hold your hand.”

Baldr gulped and took the offered hand.

Ganglöt's hand was as could be expected of an old woman's hand, but at the same time it felt really strange; as if someone had warmed up a piece of wood, softened it and given it a pulse.

“Come”, she repeated. “The queen doesn't like waiting that much.”

“Right”, he mumbled and took a few deep breaths.

Pull yourself together, Baldr scolded himself. Stop being such a wuss!

He closed his eyes and stepped into the void.

But when it didn't feel like he was falling, he opened them again – only to find, that he (just like Ganglöt) was standing in the air, right above the chasm.

“Huh”, he said. “Okaayyy …”

He let the old woman bring him to the other side (to top it off, she proceeded to hum “Walking In The Air” as she did so) and sighed in relief, when he stood on actual solid ground again and the chasm closed behind them.

“What was that?!”, he desired to know.

The maid shrugged: “Ask Her Majesty. Now compose yourself and straighten your posture, young man. You don't want to face queen Hel with that expression, do you?”

.

Hel's POV

When the door finally opened and her handmaid Ganglöt brought the dead Ása in, Hel was startled.

What everyone had told her, it really was true.

There were no words to describe just how beautiful the person in front of her was.

His face was boyish, almost feminine, and very pale. His hair was almost white and hung from his shoulders in two thick braids, in addition to the open hair in the back. He had the cutest little nose and big, sky blue eyes with long lashes. Despite him being dead, there was a faint blush on his cheeks (she wanted to pinch them), his lips were rosy and he was shining!

His eyes held a whole range of emotions: nervousness, anxiety and an undefinable sadness, but also warmth, softness and curiosity.

But this wasn't the time to get distracted.

Hel mustered a small smile and stood up to greet him.

“You must be Baldr Óðinnson”, she addressed him. “Welcome to my humble abode. I have already been waiting for you.”

.

Baldr's POV

So this was Hel?

For a few seconds he was speechless.

The queen of the eponymous world and of Niflheimr was certainly a sight to behold.

A bizarre sight; she was the strangest thing Baldr had ever seen.

It started with her hair. It was platinum blond on her right side, pitch black on the left.

She was wan, probably from the lack of sunlight. And parts of her face were black and withered, like a rotting corpse.

He was struck by pity. Was it painful for her to be half dead? And if not, how much did it bother her? And did this really make her ugly, like everyone said?

Strange, yes.

Ugly? Hmm … no, not really. Not in Baldr's opinion.

The way she united life and death in her person gave her a strange kind of beauty.

And when he approached her, his glow illuminated her enough for him to see more.

She was thin and a head taller than himself.

Her right cheek was as rosy as any maiden's.

Her night blue dress spoke of her wealth and power⁷ and she was wearing a moonstone necklace.

Her profound black eyes, which at first had looked startled (probably by his appearance, Baldr was used to it), were now looking at him with mild interest and curiosity, which for some reason was really cute and endearing to him.

I must have a weird taste in what I find cute, he thought.

Hold on – where were his manners?! He had just walked up to her without bowing or even saying hello and now was staring at the queen of the underworld, like a total idiot!

Time to fix that!

.

Hel's POV

Hel could tell, that the other was just as startled by her looks as she was by his. Of course everyone was, she was used to it, but he didn't seem to be as disgusted as most other people were.

In fact, he seemed fascinated.

How curious.

Then he blinked and seemed to remember, that he was standing in front of his new sovereign.

He blushed bright scarlet and hastily knelt before her.

“Y-yes, I am indeed Baldr”, he responded to her own greeting. “And you are, without a doubt, Queen Hel. It's such a pleasure to finally meet you!”

Now it was her turn to blink. “A pleasure to finally meet me”, she echoed blankly.

He smiled up at her and nodded – primordial cow, he actually meant that!

“Your father has told me so much about you”, Baldr continued. “Oh, speaking of him!”

He rummaged through the leather bags he was wearing around his belt, until he found something – a small stone plate.

“Your father snuck this note into my bag. I do believe it's for you?”

Hel took the stone plate and read the content:

“To my beautiful little girl,

the best birthday present ever to the best daughter ever. A ray of light for your realm of darkness. Happy birthday, Hel!

Love you lots, sweetie. Your dad.

PS: Sigyn says hi.”

She sighed in exasperation and shook her head. That was so typical for her father …

Then again, who was she to complain?

Not only was this beautiful creature in her hands now, his death surely caused his father and all the Æsir great grief. The soul of Óðinn's beloved son was the best birthday present indeed.

Now, what to do?

Should she take her grudge on the Allfather out on his son?

No.

Her resentment towards Óðinn would not cloud her judgement.

“Look me in the eyes”, she ordered and he did so.

He squirmed a little under her gaze, as her eyes bored into his soul and read him.

Hmm … no bad deeds, no condemning character traits. What a pure and adorable cinnamon roll! But what is that … oh! Oh no! What a mess!

.

Baldr's POV

Baldr was getting increasingly unsettled by the blank expression on Hel's face.

He was pretty sure, that he had never seen such a blank face in his life. Her big black eyes were like two voids. It reminded him a little of the owls he had sometimes seen, when he had walked in the forests in Asgard. Oh yes, that was the word: owlish. Her stare was owlish.

“Are you alright?”, he asked worriedly.

Hel tilted her head. Her face was still blank, but at least she now seemed to snap out of her trance.

Then, finally she opened her mouth to speak again.

“Nope.”

“S-sorry?”

“The son of the jerk, who banished me down here, can't be this cute. It just doesn't make any sense”, she … uh, clarified?

“I-I'm sorry!”, Baldr stammered and blushed a deep red.

He didn't know how to deal with this.

Baldr was an Ása, he was used to being around people, who were brutally frank and outspoken.

But Hel seemed to be a different kind of blunt.

Though he had been called cute before, it had never been like this. Hel had said that sentence with a completely straight face, without the faintest blush and in the most no-nonsense tone ever – as if it was a matter of fact. And that startled him somehow.

What startled him even more, was when a third person stumbled into the room.

Baldr almost cringed at how dishevelled Nanna was looking (and at the fact, that she was now here and there was a high chance that she would make him and/or Hel insanely uncomfortable).

“Oh, finally, I found the right room!”, she gasped. “The gatekeeper gave me wrong directions – hi, Baldr – so orientating myself was a nightmare, then I almost fell into a pit and this old lady showed up and brought me here!”

She pointed at Ganglöt, who was lingering in the background.

The light god paid close attention to Hel's reaction. Her expression didn't change at all, but Baldr could have sworn, that the left side of her face just had become slightly more decayed.

Still her overall demeanour stayed the same.

“Seems like Móðguðr played a trick on you. You have to forgive her. My gatekeeper has the tendency to give wrong directions to people she doesn't like”, she told Nanna.

“Eh, whatever”, the other goddess muttered, “I'm here now. Sooo … uhhh …”

Whatever she had been about to say died, when she got a good look at Hel. Baldr could feel the horror and disgust radiating from his former wife.

Obviously Hel noticed it too, because she brushed her black hair forward to conceal the left side of her face. Somehow that really bothered Baldr; the queen shouldn't have to cover half of her face, just because others couldn't stand it.

Nanna on the other hand seemed to have it easier now. “You're queen Hel, right?”

“No, I'm just your average Jötunn woman with a half decayed body, who has power over the dead and the entirety of Niflheimr and can read dead souls like open books”, Hel deadpanned.

For some reason Baldr couldn't help but burst into giggles. He quickly pulled himself together, but the fact that he had laughed at the queen's comment at all seemed to be enough to tick Nanna off.

“Good to see that you're having fun!”, she hissed.

Her husband coughed and mumbled an awkward apology.

“Now, now”, Hel spoke up. “Let's not get into an argument. Welcome to my realm, Nanna Nepsdóttir. Aren't you going to at least say hello to your new sovereign? Because now that you're dead, you're my subject – whether you like it or not.”

“Oh … right. Sorry”, the dead goddess mumbled, bowed and gave a polite, but cool greeting.

“Better”, the queen nodded. “Now, let me see …”

.

Hel's POV

Hel couldn't claim to be surprised by what she saw, when she read Nanna's soul.

This time she said it out loud, if only to expose her.

“Ah. Cynical, self-esteem issues, guilty of adultery with … Hermodr? Isn't that Baldr's bro-”

“Oh no, what a shock, I couldn't possibly have seen this coming!”, Baldr deadpanned.

Nanna stared at her former husband in horror. “You knew? All this time you-?!”

“Nanna, I'm neither naïve nor stupid. Yes, I knew.”

“Then why did you never say anything?!”

“Because I-”

Hel cleared her throat: “You two, this isn't couple therapy and I'm not a marriage counsellor.”

The two blinked and apologised sheepishly.

“It's forgiven”, she accepted it. “But please settle your marital issues between yourselves. I may be Loki's daughter, but that doesn't mean, that I have his sense of humour. I do not revel in the misery of others. It would be unbecoming of a queen like myself.”

The dead couple nodded.

“Anyway, Nanna, I think you know, that adultery is a crime, no matter what.”

“Yes, I do”, the dead Asýnja sighed. “So, what will it be? A snake pit? Being chewed on by a dragon, or whatever punishment people like me get around here?”

“That is indeed the standard punishment for adulterers”, Hel confirmed.

“NO!”, Baldr screamed and fell on his knees. “Please, don't do this to her!”, he pleaded. “I beg you! My wife doesn't deserve such a harsh punishment! She only-”

“Let me finish”, Hel cut him off and turned back to Nanna. “What I was going to say, before Baldr interrupted me, was that this is the standard punishment for adulterers, who actually deserve it. My judgement is fair and just. As I said before, dead souls are open books to me. I know what kind of life you two led, what tragedy your marriage really was and why you did what you did. And that, Nepsdóttir, is your saving grace.”

“So, what will it be instead?”, Nanna asked nervously.

Hel considered for a moment, before answering. “I think shovelling the snow off the paths outside would be appropriate. A bit of manual labour and cool, fresh air never hurt anyone.”

“I accept my punishment.”

“Good. Servants, take her into my garden and give her a snow shovel. The pathways out there really need to be cleared.”

Her ghostly servants were about to lead the goddess away, when Hel remembered something:

“Oh, one more thing, Nanna.”

“Yes?”

“Now that you two are dead, Baldr is your husband no more. Wedding vows do not transcend death, contrary to the assumption of the living, that they do.”

The daughter of Loki wasn't surprised to see relief run over the other woman's face, before she nodded in acknowledgement. Then she was led away.

.

Baldr's POV

“They won't hurt her, right?”, the Bright One asked the Mistress of the Dead in concern.

“Unless she does something to warrant it, no”, she replied, to his relief.

Then she told him to follow her and he did so.

She guided him through dark halls, illuminated only by his glow. No word was spoken, until Hel stopped in front of a door, opened it and motioned for Baldr to go inside.

As the dead god glanced around the room, he was stunned by the the splendour, visible even in the dim light. It was elaborately furnished, with jewels embedded in walls and furniture.

Seemed like Hel acted on the maxim “If you've got it, flaunt it”.

“Wow”, he breathed. His house in Asgard, Breiðablik⁸, hadn't quite been as luxurious (even though compared to the other houses in Asgard it was the most splendid), mostly because showing off wasn't Baldr's thing.

“I'm glad you like it”, Hel stated. “This is actually one of my own spare bedrooms, but there have been complications, while preparing your rooms, so for now you will be staying here. Your things will be brought to you shortly. In the meantime, you can make yourself comfortable.”

Baldr blushed in embarrassment. “I … I don't think I'm deserving of such honours.”

Hel lifted an eyebrow. “What, are you questioning my sound judgement?”

The blush was immediately replaced by pallor. “No! Of course not!”

“That's what I thought”, she said and he could have sworn, that there was a hint of amusement in her otherwise still completely toneless voice. It didn't show on her face either, but Baldr was pretty sure, that she was enjoying herself at his cost.

With a sigh, he sat on the bed. It was a king-sized bed and it seemed really comfortable.

Suddenly exhaustion set in with a vengeance and he felt really tired. Why was he tired? He always had assumed, that dead people didn't need to sleep – after all, wasn't death already an everlasting sleep? Oh well, another afterlife lesson learned.

Hel seemed to sense his fatigue, for she said: “You must be exhausted. After all, you travelled all the way down Yggdrasil. That's not exactly a stroll in the park. So lie down and sleep a little. A servant will come and wake you up, when dinner is ready.”

He stood up once more and bowed. “Thank you, your Majesty.”

“No need for formalities. Just Hel will do”, she replied. “I'm more than just the queen of Niflheimr. I founded a whole kingdom and named it after myself. I think that expresses my power more than my queenly title does.”

Baldr couldn't have argued with that, even if he had wanted to.

Hel left the room and closed the door, leaving the dead god alone.

The Bright One sat back down and contemplated his new situation.

Hmm … Hel doesn't seem so bad. Neither the place, nor the person. The Mistress of the Dead seems to be a fair ruler. And of course, no one throwing stuff at me is always nice … I think I'm going to like it here.

He lay down and found the bed just as warm and comfy as his old one in Asgardr.

Baldr fell asleep within seconds.

.

---

.

1) Náströnd: "Corpse Shore", the place of Helheimr, where oath-breakers, adulterers and murderers are punished. 2) Níðhöggr: "Malice Striker/Hateful Striker", a serpentine dragon living and gnawing at the roots of Yggdrasil (the cosmic World Tree), who also chews on the corpses of the inhabitants of Náströnd. 3) Ganglati: "Lazy-Step", Hel's personal manservant. 4) Móðguðr: "Ferocious Battler", the guardian of Gjallarbrú, the bridge across the underworld river Gjöll. 5) Éljúðnir: depending on the translation either "Misery", or "Sprayed With Blizzards/Damp With Sleet" (personally I tend more towards "misery"), Hel's castle. It's described as being enormous, having really high walls and large gates. 6) Ganglöt: "Slow-Step", Hel's handmaid. 7) Dark dyes for clothing were quite expensive, especially black-blue dyes (raven black). Most Norse societies only had access to them via trade (with the Byzantine Empire, for example). So really dark or colourful clothing was a status symbol, since it was only available to the wealthy. 8) Breiðablik: "Broad Gleam". According to Snorri Sturluson's Prose Edda, it was the fairest hall in Asgard.