Baldr in Hel

by ChopinWorshipper

Summary:

Baldr dies and goes to Hel, where the eponymous queen is already waiting.
It's fascination at first sight.

Chapter 1: Baldr's arrival

Summary:

Baldr meets Hel and they're immediately intrigued by each other.

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.

Notes:

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.

Chapter 2: Settling in

Summary:

Baldr gets accustomed to the ways of Hel and the underworld.

Baldr's POV

 

It had been two days since he had arrived.

At least he thought so.

The underworld sun never set and the UV-A light¹ bathed the entirety of Niflheimr and Helheimr in permanent ghostly twilight. There was no day-night cycle. It seemed to Baldr, like time stood still in this murky, chilly world.

Fortunately the Bright One had quickly figured out, that Hel had a rigid schedule he could orientate himself on.

The meals played a big part: there was a warm and simple breakfast for the Queen of the Dead (and for him, since he had a seat of honour at her table), an opulent lunch and a warm, but light dinner (Hel had told him, that it was better not to eat too much in the evening).

Baldr didn't believe, that the ingredients for the food were home-grown; that was impossible around here. But he didn't dare ask, where they came from.

Hel also had the habit of getting up early, earlier than Baldr was used to. Perhaps it was because his habit was to rise with the sun, or maybe it was the black light of the underworld sun, which made him feel like he was woken up earlier than usual.

Hel's two personal servants, Ganglöt and Ganglati, worked rather slowly (no surprise with how elderly they were) and Hel had advised him to make requests at least an hour in advance, whenever he wanted something.

Baldr had also learned quickly, that Hel was rather morbid, when it came to naming things.

Apart from her gargantuan palace, Éljúðnir, her own bed was named Kór (sickbed), its curtains Blikjandabol (gleaming bale), her table was named Hungr (hunger), her knife Sultr (starvation).

(“Why do you give your possessions such dark names?”

“Why not?”

Later he had learned from her manservant Ganglati, that her gallows humour – which she clearly had got from her father – was her way of coping with her ruined youth.)

And last but not least …

“Uhm, Hel? May I ask you something?”

“Certainly.”

“Why is there a pitfall in front of your audience hall?”

“Oh, you mean Fallandaforað²? That's my threshold.”

Threshold???

“It sorts out anyone who has malicious intent and or is guilty of hubris.”

Now Baldr was even more confused. “Uhm … could you elaborate please?”

“Alright: every soul has an individual signature, made up of character, memories, thoughts and good or bad deeds they have done in life. Over the chasm of my threshold goes an invisible magical film. Most people are able to cross it, no problem. The really bad ones stumble over invisible obstacles, but they get across. But those guilty of hubris or ill intent fall into the chasm. Their punishment is to be lost forever in the deepest and darkest pits of Niflhel.”

Baldr felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

Hel's emotionless tone and face hadn't made her explanation any less scary. Neither did her sudden changed of disposition, when she suggested talking about something more pleasant.

When he asked her personal servants about it, Ganglati, her elderly butler, just laughed: “Well, that's how our queen is. She's very changeable, both in appearance and in demeanour. If she has a blank expression all the time, well, that's just Hel being Hel. But here's a tip; if you want to get a hint on how she's feeling, pay close attention to the state of her left half. The worse her mood is, the more decayed her face is. But if she's happy, it looks just as lively and beautiful as the right side of her body.”

The light god tilted his head in interest. “Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

“You two must have known her for a long time.”

Ganglati nodded affirmatively. “Oh yes. We were already long here, when she came here as a young thing. Such a frightened, poor little lass she was. Such a burden on the shoulder of a ten-year-old. It took her a while to grow into her new role, but we were there through all of it, Ganglöt and I.”

Compassion struck Baldr with an intensity he hadn't felt in quite a while (and he was quite a compassionate person, a “bleeding heart”, as Loki had called it scornfully).

The things this woman must have gone through!

 

Hel's POV

 

Hel allowed Baldr to roam through the castle, so that he could get used to it (among other reasons).

The Bright One was curious and once he got over his initial apprehension, he asked her a lot of questions, which made her really happy. He was genuinely interested in her place.

Maybe it was selfish, but she would have been a fool, if she hadn't been grateful for this indeed very special revenge kill/“birthday gift” from her father.

Her life wasn't boring per se, just … repetitive. Always the paper work and the soul judging.

Well, at least the upside of the latter was the soul reading. Whatever the soul had experienced, she knew it, their memories, their wishes and hopes, their deepest secrets – some of which even the persons themselves didn't know – and of course their silly little mishaps.

Sometimes being a death goddess could be really fun.

She always had a story to tell and a friend from Hellas had given her the idea to write those stories down. Now she had to employ thousands of librarians to administrate the nigh infinite amount of media in her Halls of Knowledge. But hey, the dead might as well make themselves useful.

Hel was quite sure, that Baldr would be dying to see them, once he found out about them. Maybe she would have to drag him out of there; reading his soul had revealed, that he loved stories and reading.

One thing was for sure: he was really curious about the little light that floated about the hallways of the entire castle. Once Hel was showing him the halls he was going to inhabit, once the problems were fixed, when Baldr caught one of the little lights in his hand. The next moment he yelped, let go and the light quickly escaped.

“It bit me!”, he exclaimed in shock. Hel took a look at his hand. There was no blood, but one of his fingers had a visible bite mark.

She smiled lopsidedly. “You have to excuse them. They panic easily and when they panic, they bite.”

“What are they anyway?”, Baldr asked. “I've been wondering for a while.”

“These, Baldr, are the souls of stillborn children”, Hel revealed. “Babies, who just transformed from a bunch of cells to living, sentient beings, who just gained a soul – only to lose this spark of light almost immediately, before they could even see the world and take their first breath. Some of them had already been born, when they died – usually of sickness, or because they were considered weak and were abandoned. So they're as confused and upset as babies can be.”

Baldr looked pained. “That's awful”, he whispered.

“It is”, Hel agreed. Then she hummed a little melody and the baby souls gathered around her head and hands, including the one that had bitten Baldr's finger.

“Hello, children”, she greeted them. “How are you today? Are you playing nicely?”

Their answer was a barely audible hum, a chorus of susurrated words only she could hear. The tiniest of them (the little finger biter) nuzzled her right cheek.

“Hey there, sweetie”, Hel smiled. “I see, you're growing teeth.”

She turned to Baldr. “Come here, Óðinnson. This little soul wants to tell you something. But pay very close attention and keep your voice down; the souls of the stillborn have the faintest voices and are most sensitive to noise.”

Baldr approached and hesitantly opened his hand. The tiny soul floated onto it, then up his arm and onto his shoulder, right next to his left ear. His eyes widened in evident surprise, as the soul whispered something into his ear. But then he smiled and whispered back, that it was okay.

The soul nuzzled his cheek too and made a humming sound, which prompted the other souls to float over and orbit around the glowing god.

 

Baldr's POV

 

Baldr wasn't quite sure, what to do, but at least the souls seemed comfortable around him, so that was a good thing. Hel seemed pleased at the sight.

“Are they attracted to my light?”, he asked softly.

“Oh yes. As I said before, most of these children have never seen the light of day, but some have. The big one on your hand, that's Ragnar. He died at the age of three and is the oldest of the group. He just told the little ones, that your face shines like the sun. So they're really excited. They had no idea the sun was so bright, warm and beautiful.”

“Oh”, he breathed and his cheeks reddened considerably (seriously, what was that with all the blushing lately?).

Some of the souls made a noise that sounded suspiciously like giggling.

Of course this wasn't the first time, that someone likened Baldr's brightness and fairness to the sun, but to him it meant so much more, when it came from a child.

“I agree”, Hel responded to his process of thought. “It does mean a lot more from a small child. They don't say these things to flatter or to be poetic or romantic, but because to them it's a simple truth.” She smiled. “Look at them, they really like you! They orbit around you like planets! Seems like you're called 'The Beloved' for a reason. Even the dead love you.”

These words made him glow a little brighter with joy. “I'm glad”, he said gently.

They stayed there for a while, before continuing their tour, leaving the souls to play.

After walking for a while, Hel asked her companion: “What's the matter? You're so silent.”

“Just wondering, that's all”, Baldr mumbled. “When does a being get a soul?”

“Hm, I think it's an ethical or philosophical question”, Hel mused. “Some say, it's at the moment of conception, some say it's at birth. But to me, it's the moment, when their tiny little organs start working; the moment they become viable.”

“Why can the souls talk?”

“Unlike their mortal shells, souls have a voice, mind and conscience from the moment they spring into existence. Even if the creatures themselves can't speak, their souls can. And if you can hear the soul inside a creature, you can understand them. You can read them like books.”

“Like you can?”, Baldr asked.

“Yes and no. I can only read the dead. The living are an enigma to me”, Hel admitted. “That's one of the reasons I prefer the company of ghosts. Another being the way the living look at me. The horror, fear and disgust in their eyes … I hated going outside in Jötunheimr.”

He gasped: “Your own kind was afraid of you?!”

“Yes. We led an isolated life deep in the Járnviðr. But sometimes mother would have to travel to the next settlement for groceries and then she would take us along, because she couldn't leave us alone at home. But it's not fun to go outside, only to be called a 'monster' a 'freak', or other charming things like that.”

Baldr felt his heart crack.

This wasn't right. She didn't deserve this.

Unable to stop himself, he took her hand.

“I don't think you're a monster or a freak”, he spoke softly.

 

Hel's POV

 

Hel felt a blush rise to both of her cheeks and for the first time in quite a while, her left side turned lively.

“You don't?”, she asked

The dead god shook his head vehemently: “Absolutely not! They were fools for not seeing your magnificence!”

Her blush intensified and she couldn't help but smile.

“Thank you, Baldr. That means a lot to me.”

Of course it didn't escape her, that her apparent joy made him happy in return.

Oh Baldr, you sweet and messed up summer child.

 

A few hours later, at the lunch table, he thought of another question.

“Hel, can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can.”

“Uhm … do you come after your mother? I mean, you definitely have Loki's wit and gallows humour, but except for that, I don't see much of a resemblance between you and him.”

Hel smirked.

Baldr giggled: “Okay, scratch that. That is definitely a Loki-smirk.

“Why, thank you!”, the Queen of the Dead snickered. “I'll take that as a compliment. But to answer your question: yes, I do come more after my mother – at least on the good side.”

By his curious eyes she could tell, that he wanted to know more, but was afraid to ask.

“Go on”, she encouraged him.

He fidgeted a little. “Your mother … what was she like?”

Hel tilted her head. “Why did you hesitate to ask me that?”

“W-well … I thought … I …”

“That it would hurt me to be reminded of her?”

“Y-yes.”

“It doesn't”, she assured him. “I like remembering my mother. She was the most unimpressed person you could ever meet. Very outspoken too, though she didn't talk much. She didn't smile much, but never got angry either. She would teach us her magic and all kinds of runes and spells. Mother didn't play with us, that was father's job. But sometimes she would do something sweet. Small gestures here and there. When I was a little girl, I asked my mother for bells to play with. She said no, but on Yule I found them in my Yule bag. It was father, who gave them to me, but he whispered into my ear, that it had been mother's doing. 'But that's a secret, sweetie', he said, 'Don't tell Mama I told you'. These …” She took the scythe, which was leaning against the table and shook it, making the bells ring, “… are the very same bells. They're my most priced possession.”

Baldr was smiling from ear to ear. “That's such a sweet story! You and your family must have been so close.”

“We still are”, Hel corrected. “We always were, always are and always will be. I'm sure that as an Ása you know that kind of love. During my brief stay in Asgard I could tell, that your family is a very tight-knit group.”

He clearly understood.

“I want you to understand, Baldr, that it doesn't upset me to talk about my family. I have nothing but fond memories of them. What upsets me is what your family did to us. My brothers and I, we were only children, when your father tore us apart. I do not truly hate Óðinn, because I know and understand, why does what he does. Still he hurt us and for that I resent him.”

Baldr nodded sadly. “I think I do understand. You're a strong person to not hate my father.”

Hel sighed: “I wouldn't call it strong. It's not so much strong as it is wise. It's the sensible thing to do. Hatred doesn't resolve anything. It just makes you more miserable, blackens your soul and clouds your judgement. My father is the hateful, vindictive one.”

“Can confirm”, Baldr said wryly and pointed to where he had been pierced by the mistletoe dart.

Right that moment, the waiters came in and brought lunch.

When Baldr saw the content of his bowl, his face brightened up.

“Ohhh, girolle stew with mussels!”, he squealed in delight.

Hel chortled, as the light god proceeded to practically inhale his food.

“You certainly have a healthy appetite!”, she snickered.

Baldr laughed sheepishly: “Yeah, Nanna would say that too. She used to joke, that, if we weren't so rich, I would eat us out of house and home.”

Hel snickered some more: “Don't you worry, Bright One. There is no danger of that happening. You can eat as much as you want.”

The blond beamed and refilled his bowl.

 

Later Hel was sitting in her office doing her paperwork and making zoom calls.

She was on the call with a few of her foreign colleagues, when a knock on her office door got her attention.

“Wait a second, guys, someone just knocked on my office – ENTER!”, she called out to whoever was waiting outside.

She was a little surprised, when the door opened to reveal …

“Baldr! What can I do for you?”, Hel inquired.

He was smiling sweetly – primordial cow, it looked so cute!

“Hi, I just wanted to- oh, wait, I see you're busy”, he noted sheepishly. “I'm sorry. I'll just come back later-”

“Don't be silly! Come here, Óðinnson!”, she ordered.

 

Baldr's POV

 

Baldr obeyed, albeit hesitantly.

“Come”, she repeated. “I want you to meet my colleagues from abroad.”

He joined her behind the magical screens and saw the faces inside them.

“Everyone”, Hel addressed her colleagues, “I want you to meet my new companion. This is-”

“Baldr!”, one of the other underworld rulers exclaimed and waved behind their screen. “What a surprise! Hi!”

Baldr recognised the other and beamed. “Oh, hey, Persephone!”

Hel blinked: “You two know each other?”

Baldr nodded. “Yes, I've met her a few times, when my family and I would visit the Olympians for business-”

“So this is the dead god you're hosting now?”, one of the other zoom call participants asked. “I've heard of some god dying and entering your realm.”

“Yes, this is him”, Hel confirmed. “Baldr, this is Osiris, son of Nut and Geb. He's the king of the Egyptian underworld and very much like you. Osiris, this is Baldr Óðinnson, formerly the god of light, peace, joy, justice, spring and all that stuff – which should be obvious by the way he glows.”

Some of the foreign chthonic deities laughed.

Curiously Baldr regarded the Egyptian god. Through the screen he could tell that the other had green skin, was clad in white linen and wearing a white crown.

“So you died too?”

“Yes, no thanks to my brother Seth”, Osiris sighed. “My wife and some helpers sewed me back together and resurrected me. But since I was already dead, I couldn't return to the land of the living, so here I am, ruling the afterlife. But it's a nice gig and I'm comfortable here. I'm sure, you will like living with Hel too. Once you get used to her aloof demeanour, you will find, that she's a very likeable person.”

“Oh, I do!”, Baldr agreed eagerly. “I really like it here!”

He couldn't help but laugh, when Hel gawked at him like he had just grown a second head.

“What's so funny?”, Hel complained, “This is the first time I hear that sentence!”

Baldr gasped: “What??? Well, then I will have to tell you more often, because it's true!”

He was very pleased with himself, when the left side of Hel's face turned significantly more lifelike (though she was still deathly pale) and a blush tainted her right cheek.

That means she's happy, right? According to Ganglati, that means she's happy.

“Awww!”, some of the foreign underworld rulers cooed.

“So cute!”, Persephone gushed.

“Does anyone have something of importance to say, before I end this conference?”, one of the participants – a skeletal god with a splendid, colourful feather crown – asked.

Everyone else said no.

“Good. The meeting is over.”

Hel lost no time in switching her screens off.

Baldr gave her a questioning look. “Not even so much as a goodbye?”

“Not among us underworld gods”, she muttered. “Besides, I don't need to hear their gossiping. In that regard many chthonic deities are just as bad as most upperworld deities.”

Ah. No wonder she wanted to get away as quickly as possible.

“They're going to ship us, aren't they?”, he sighed.

“Like GodEx”, she grumbled. “Especially the married ones. You have to excuse them. Every time they suspect that one of us singles has even so much as a crush, they get all … stupid.”

“Ah. Yes, I've been there.”

“I know you have. By the way, you can sit down.”

Baldr smiled gratefully and sat on the chair in front of Hel's desk.

She leaned back in her own chair and regarded him across the table.

“So! What brings you here?”, she wanted to know.

He shifted in his chair.

For a few minutes he had forgot about what he had come here for, but now he was reminded. He had just wanted to … wanted to – oh Allfather, what had he been thinking? She was the Queen of the Dead, she had so many better and more important things to do than listen to his stupid-

“Go on. Spit it out.”

“I … I just … I …”

He grew pale, when he saw how the left half of her face decayed again and she began to frown. He was displeasing her. She was getting agitated, just because he couldn't even … damn it!

And just like that he broke into tears.

“I'm sorry!”, he blubbered, “I'm sorry! I didn't mean to- I'm sorry! I'm sorry!”

Through the blur he could just about make out Hel leaping up and darting around the table, then her right hand cupping his face and the other dabbing at his eyes with a paper tissue.

“Hey now.” Her voice was so gentle. “There is nothing to say sorry for. You don't owe me an apology. You don't owe me anything.”

“But … but …”

“Listen to me, Baldr”, she spoke sternly. “You don't have to please me. You don't have to live up to my expectations. I expect nothing of you. You don't have to put on a false smile and pretend that everything is fine, when it's really not. I know everything, Baldr. I saw the hurt, anxiety and depression, that broke you to the point where you wanted to die. I saw the lone moments, when you sought comfort in your twin's arms, because the pressure was too much to bear. But you know what? It's gone now. You're dead. You're free. Just let go.”

Let go.

Only one person had ever told him that in his life: Höðr, his dear twin-brother. No one else had ever understood.

In his beauty, purity and wisdom, Baldr appeared to be perfect.

He was not.

Blinded by admiration or envy, the people, who flocked around him, forgot that he too had his shortcomings. Höðr had been the only one, who had never forgot, had never expected anything of him. And now there was another person, who asked nothing of him either, who understood his feelings?

Baldr cried harder. He couldn't help it.

For a second he was confused, when Hel moved to take him in her arms, only to stop short. But then she shifted and let him lean into her right shoulder, instead of the left. Honestly, Baldr wouldn't have given a damn, he just wanted to be held, to cry his heart out and be told that everything was alright now.

This was wrong, because he was just one of many dead people and she was his new queen and sovereign. It was undignified and improper, downright insulting and disrespectful even, to get emotional in front of a monarch.

But for some reason Baldr couldn't bring himself to care.

He just drank in the physical closeness and Hel's soothing and placid aura and listened to her murmured words of comfort.

 

“Are you feeling a bit better?”, Hel asked, when he had finally stopped crying.

He nodded, sniffling. “Yeah … I think so. Thank you so much. I really needed that, I suppose.”

“No need to thank me”, she replied and handed him a jug of water. “Just know that, whenever you need someone to talk to, I'm all ears- uhhh, Baldr, why are you pouting like that?”

“Why are you wearing your hair like that?”, he all but huffed. “You haven't done that since Nanna saw your face and couldn't stand looking at it.”

She had brushed her black hair forward to hide the decayed part of her face and for some reason that bothered him even more now than it had a few days ago.

Hel made her “owl face”, tilting her head and looking at him with that bottomless black eye.

But it soon gave way to her usual blank expression.

 

Hel's POV

 

“Can you stand looking at it?”, Hel questioned earnestly. “Your breakdown happened after you saw how my condition worsened. You saw my face decay and flipped out.”

Baldr blushed and mumbled: “Uhm … it wasn't because of that. You see, I noticed that your left side changes condition and your butler explained to me, that it's affected by your mood. So when that happened earlier and you started frowning, I … I thought …”

“That you had displeased or even angered me”, Hel realised. “I see. Looks like I owe you an apology. I didn't mean to frighten you. I was getting impatient, because of your stuttering, yes, but angry? No. How could I ever be angry at someone like you?”

She flashed him a half smile.

For the first time in his life, Baldr acted on impulse: he brushed her hair out of the left half of her face and tucked it behind her ear.

“That's better”, he smiled.

It took her a heroic amount of self-control not to blush again, like a flustered teenager (Niflheimr, she was thousands of years old and had never once gotten flustered before Baldr had showed up!).

But damn, he's so adorable!

She coughed awkwardly and returned to her chair behind her desk.

“Now, that you have calmed down, what did you want to talk about?”

Baldr blinked, as if he had forgot.

But then he laughed: “Oh, right! I just wanted to know, if we could talk more about our families, you and I. If you want to and have time, of course.”

She could feel her left side become more lifelike, enabling her to smile fully.

“I would very much like that, Óðinnson.”

Notes:

1) Ultraviolet-A light. The proper term for black light. As a god of light, Baldr would know everything about light and the different spectra and would probably say UV-A light, rather than black light.
2) Fallandaforað: "Falling Bale/Falling Danger", Hel's threshold.

Chapter 3: Nanna has a lot to say

Summary:

Baldr feels guilty, Nanna is angry and Hel makes observations.

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.

Chapter 4: Talking things out

Summary:

Baldr and Nanna answer each other's questions.

Baldr's POV

 

At the end of the day – or rather, daily routine – Baldr and Nanna were bafflingly peaceful and consonant. Baffling for him, that is. After millennia of distance and icy silence between them, this took some getting used to.

He hadn't pinned Nanna to be so … genuinely funny. Not that he minded, of course.

“… and then Sigyn chased him all across Asgard with a pitchfork!”, she finished her latest tale.

Baldr chuckled: “Yes, that's a very Sigyn thing to do.”

He had always found his starry-haired older sister hard to deal with, most people had. Sigyn's abrasive and explosive demeanour was just repelling.

“I still have a few questions, though”, he told Nanna.

She considered, before agreeing to answer what she could.

“How did you and Sigyn become friends in the first place?”

Nanna laughed: “Well, I was curious about what's behind her bitchy exterior and she was the only goddess noticing that you and I were unhappy. We talked and before I knew it, we were best friends.”

Baldr had no idea why it made perfect sense to him, that Nanna would bond with a spitfire like Sigyn. They were opposites, while having just the right things in common with one another.

But before he could further ponder his ex-wife's friendship with his sister, he remembered something else. Something that had bugged him, ever since they had got here.

“Uhm, Nanna?”

She perked up at his tentative tone. “Hm?”

“If it's not too much to ask … why are you dead too? You caught up to me right when I got to the bridge to Helheimr, which means you died no later than a day after me. What happened?”

Suddenly her carefree expression vanished and she averted her gaze.

“You know, you don't have to answer, if you don't want to-”

“I killed myself.”

Cue his jaw dropping. “What?!”

“I killed myself”, Nanna repeated. “When I heard that you were dead, my first plan was to mourn you appropriately and then move on.”

“Makes sense so far.”

“But then I heard the other goddesses talk about me behind my back. Skadi had seen me look at Hermóðr for two seconds too long and then told the others about it. And with how envious the goddesses were of me, she found open ears. I heard her accuse me of being a gold-digger and a faithless bitch behind my back. Not the first time she said that either. She has been so infatuated with you this entire time, but you married me instead, so she hated me, like, you have no idea. Anyway, Sif brushed it off and pointed out how lovey-dovey you and I always looked and that I would likely die of heartbreak, once it sunk in, that you were dead. That was the moment, when I realised, that I would never be free to marry the man I love and just move on. You would always haunt me.”

Baldr felt his heart shatter.

Nanna swallowed what was clearly a lump in her throat and continued: “So I dressed my best, wrote goodbye letters to my loved ones and chugged a vial of poison. It kicked in, when you were carried to the pyre. The last thing I remember is collapsing and hearing someone say that I died of grief, before everything turned black, so at least that plan worked. Then I was burned with you, I guess, because next thing I knew, there was fog everywhere and I could hear the far-off voice of the gatekeeper talking to you. And, well, that's about it.”

“Nanna …”

“Don't get me wrong, I wasn't relieved or even happy, that you were dead. It wasn't like I hated you or anything like that. Actually, once I got over the shock and confusion, I felt … nothing. My own husband freaking died and I felt nothing!”

She wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

“It made me spiral into a panic attack. Luckily Sigyn was there to reassure me. She said it's not uncommon, that people don't immediately feel anything after losing someone. That was a relief. I thought I was a monster for not feeling anything, but apparently that's a normal thing, so …”

Baldr chose his next words carefully.

“Nanna, you're not a monster. You and I hardly were close and even if we had been, you wouldn't have had enough time for everything to sink in to the point of grief. It was only a few hours between my sudden death and your suicide. I have seen people who lost someone dear and needed years to, you know, actually feel something. I think that's a defence mechanism. It's not weird that you had no immediate emotional response other than shock.”

She sighed: “Yeah … I know that now. And maybe I overreacted and didn't think things through, but everything just hurt so much.”

“How do you feel now?”

“Lighter than ever in life.” Her face grew sombre again. “I just regret having to leave our son and my friends behind.”

Baldr nodded sadly. “Same here.”

 

“By the way, remember when I questioned how you found out about me and Hermóðr and you didn't answer?”

“Huh. Now that you mention it …”

“So how did you find out?”

Baldr gave her an underwhelmed look. “Well, you should have chosen a more discreet spot than your husband's backyard to make out with your brother-in-law.”

“Oh … right.”

“Yeah.”

Chapter 5: Getting used to Helheimr

Summary:

Hel and Nanna become friends and Baldr decides, that he wants to stay.

Hel's POV

 

Baldr and Nanna seemed to get comfortable here pretty quickly, much to Hel's pleasant surprise.

Apparently the ex-couple had settled on being friends and the Queen of the Dead was quite proud, that her advice of talking it out had worked so well.

A few open conversations really could do wonders.

Nanna even seemed to have grown used to Hel's duality. At least she didn't grimace anymore, when she looked at the Jötunn's left side.

“Does it hurt?”, the Vana asked at one point.

Hel shook her head. “No. When the left side of my body is physically dead, it can't hurt. It's just a tad uncomfortable. But when you have lived as long as I have, you get used to it.”

Nanna frowned: “Sounds like a stifling way to live.”

Hel shrugged: “Eh, it's fine. Walking stairs is a bit of a chore though.”

“But doesn't it ever happen, that one of your limbs falls off?”

The Jötunn snorted: “Sure does, if I'm not careful. Usually my magic keeps my body together, but of course if I'm not careful, something falls off. Although, sometimes, when I want to mess with people, I do this.”

Nanna screamed in shock, when Hel took her decayed left arm off, as if it were an artificial appendage.

“WHAT THE HECKITY HECK??? PUT IT BACK, OH MY GODS!”

Which Hel did, but not without cackling.

 

Baldr's POV

 

“… and then she took her arm off! It was so freaky! I screamed like a bat!”

“Yes, I heard it all the way to my room”, he giggled.

“Stop laughing!”

“Sorry, I can't! It's too funny!”

Nanna huffed and scowled at him, which only made him laugh harder.

After a few minutes his laughter subsided and he sighed blissfully.

The brunette goddess pouted some more, before chuckling and admitting that it was a bit funny.

Then they sat in silence for a while.

This was nice.

It was comfortable.

Baldr couldn't help but wish, that they could have had this in life …

“… you back to life?”

He blinked. “Pardon?”

“I asked, if you think that the Æsir will try to buy you back to life”, Nanna repeated.

His smile faded.

He had completely forgot about that possibility.

“I hope they won't”, he admitted. “I don't want them to.”

He didn't want to go back to Asgarðr. He was happier here than he had ever been in life, up there …

Nanna seemed to sense his predicament, as she changed the subject: “You know, I think Hel should dress up more.”

Baldr gaped at her. “What's brought this up?”

“I mean, think about it!”, continued Nanna. “She would look so much prettier, if she bothered to style her hair, or if she wore something other than black and dark blue. I get it, it fits into the scene, but wouldn't it be nice, if she wore something bright once in a while? Other than her jewellery?”

“Please don't make her wear pink!”, Baldr pleaded. “Anything but pink!”

It had taken him centuries to get used to Nanna's love of pastel-coloured clothing. It wasn't that she couldn't wear them well – she absolutely did. He just didn't like pastel colours, especially pink.

The dead goddess grinned: “Don't worry, I don't think pink would suit her either. It wouldn't go well with her overall colour scheme …” She thought for a moment. Then she beamed: “But bright blue would! It befits her calm disposition, would go well with her pallor and the platinum blond parts of her hair and make her look much younger! Not that she looks old, but it would be so cute!”

The image of Hel in a bright blue dress made the corner of Baldr's mouth twitch upward.

Nanna went on: “Yellow would also look good on her – of course it should be a warm shade – she would look brighter and more inviting and it would be a good contrast to everything here.”

“I don't know, I don't think yellow goes well with her whole death goddess thing”, Baldr objected.

“Dang it, I guess you're right. Orange is way too gaudy. A passionate dark red, maybe – or not”, Nanna changed her mind, when she saw Baldr's pained expression.

He had grown to abhor red – it just reminded him too much of how his own blood had flown from his chest, as his life had ebbed away.

“… Green is also out of question, for the same reason as yellow. Turquoise too. Brown and grey are as unfitting and atrocious as clothing colours come …”

While Nanna was rambling about clothing colours, the Queen of Helheimr had joined them and was now standing behind the dead goddess, who hadn't noticed her yet. Baldr had, of course, without even looking.

Meanwhile Nanna broke into a huge smile: “Ohh, I know! Purple! The colour of royalty! The right shades would enhance her figure and make her look like the queen she is! It's perfect! Yes, she should absolutely wear a purple dress! I should make her one!”

Baldr exchanged an amused look with Hel, before asking Nanna: “Don't you want to talk to Hel about that first?”

“What, and spoil the surprise- ui! Hel!”

Hel grinned down on Nanna. “I decline. I want to wear plain, boring black. But I appreciate the offer.”

Nanna put on her puppy pout face.

 

Apparently that worked, because the next day Hel wore a purple dress after all (Tyrian purple, if Baldr's knowledge of colour terminology didn't fail him and it never did¹) and golden jewellery with purple gems.

She looked gorgeous and seemed to be in a good mood too, because the left half of her face looked less decayed than usual, almost alive.

Hel grinned and asked Nanna: “So, do I look as majestic, as you imagined?”

Nanna grinned back: “Perfect! You look happier too! You should dress to the nines more often!”

Hel's grin broadened, as her gaze wandered to Baldr, who was busy cursing himself for being a blushing mess, just because the Queen of the Dead had chosen to wear purple today.

It made no sense, that this should affect him so much. It was literally just clothing …

Then he noticed Nanna's smug grin and his normally white-yellow glow got a pink hue with how hard he blushed.

“Shush”, he muttered, as she and Hel snickered.

 

Hel's POV

 

Dolling up sure had been fun.

This was the first time she'd done it and she had never felt this pretty in her life (and why would she, when most people called her a monster and abhorred the sight of her).

Previously she hadn't even owned a purple dress. In fact, she had just taken her best dark blue gowns, dyed them purple with a spell (a little trick she had learned from her mother) and added gold ornaments, just to flaunt her wealth and status.

The right clothes really did make a difference, it seemed.

Nevertheless she went back to black the following day. Much to Nanna's disappointment, but black was just Hel's favourite colour.

After having finished the soul judging for the day, she sent Ganglati to bring Baldr to her throne room. To her surprise and amusement, Baldr showed up carrying a visibly perplexed Ganglati on his back.

“He couldn't keep up, so I carried him”, Baldr explained, smiling.

Hel chortled and struggled to keep in her laughter, especially when Ganglati climbed off the dead god's back with an utterly mortified expression.

“Next time give me a fair warning, before you pick me up and run around with me like that, young man!”, the elderly servant scolded and got a sheepish apology. He accepted it and left the two deities alone.

Baldr addressed Hel: “So, what's the matter?”

“Perhaps you have noticed, that my staff is busier than usual”, she began and he nodded affirmatively. “The reason for that, Baldr, is that a messenger from your family is on the way here. Tomorrow your brother Hermóðr will show up to beseech me for your release. I'm making preparations for his arrival.”

His smile was replaced by a frown.

Hel decided that she didn't like it.

“Not too keen on seeing the guy your wife slept with?”, she tried to lighten up the mood.

Baldr rolled his eyes. “Like I care, even though it would give me the opportunity to give him a piece of my mind.”

“What is it then?”

He lowered his gaze. “I … I …”

It took a while, but eventually he squeezed his eyes shut and blurted out: “I don't want to leave! I don't want to go back! I'm happier here than I ever was up there and …”

Hel lifted her hand to silence him and replied in her usual blank manner: “I know that you want to stay here, rather than go back. But don't wreck your pretty head, Óðinnson. No one, who enters my realm, returns to the world of the living. No one.”

Baldr clearly understood, but he still looked sceptical.

“I'm not sure … have you ever met my mother?”, he asked doubtfully. “She managed to make everything in existence swear not to harm me, except for a sprig of mistletoe that was too young.”

“I know. She even sent me a text and asked me and my subjects to swear as well. I had to point out to Frigg, that the dead are incapable of swearing binding oaths.”

She winked at him. “Don't you worry about a single thing, Baldr, and leave it all to me. I am Hel Lokadóttir, Queen of the Dead. I'm up to every trick.”

His expression softened. “I trust you.”

“Good. Oh, and there is another thing: I would like to introduce you to my own mother. If that's alright with you.”

Baldr gasped in delight: “Oh, absolutely! I would love to meet the lady, who raised an amazing daughter like yourself!”

The temptation to blush and giggle was real – damn, what was this guy doing to her?!

But she manage to keep her pokerface up (or not; the condition of the left half of her face probably gave it away).

She clapped her hands. “It's a deal. I will give her notice to let her know and tomorrow after breakfast we can go there. Hermóðr won't arrive until late afternoon, so it won't be a problem.”

 

Baldr's POV

 

Baldr didn't know, how Hel could say that so certainly, but he decided not to question it.

He would just have to trust her. And if there was one thing he had learned in the last few days, it was that Hel was one of the most trustworthy people one could meet.

Before going to bed, he told Nanna about it.

To his confusion, she burst into giggles.

“What's so funny?”, he asked.

“Nothing!”, Nanna snickered, “It's just that you and I have been here for less than a week and she already wants you to meet her mother! She really has it bad for you, hasn't she?”

Baldr got so flustered he started to glow bright pink, which made her laugh even harder.

Notes:

1) With Baldr being a god of light, I got the idea that he'd be able to see all spectres of light, as well as know all about colours.

Chapter 6: A little spooky tour and too much talking

Summary:

It's a long, long way to the home of Hel's mum, but at least the gang is together.

Baldr's POV

 

Ganglöt and Ganglati objected to having to accompany their mistress and Baldr to Angrboða's abode, which turned out to be because she had her home in a high tower at the other end of Hel's castle.

But Hel was resolute, much to their chagrin.

“Why can't you at least install a lift?”, Ganglöt complained.

“Or tubes and trains?”, added Ganglati.

Hel rolled her eyes. “You already asked me that a month ago. I told you then and I will tell you again, the transport services are still under construction. End of the discussion.”

And so the two gave up and resigned themselves to the fact, that they would have to follow the queen the long way to the top of her mother's tower.

Baldr felt bad for the elderly couple.

“I can carry you, when you're too tired”, he offered.

Ganglöt giggled in amusement. “My, such a gentleman! But no, thank you. We have always managed just fine in the past. As long as you walk slowly enough for us to keep up, we'll be fine.”

The Bright One shrugged. “Alright. But my offer stands.”

 

Nanna had insisted on accompanying them.

Partly, because she didn't want to stay behind all by herself, but mostly – she claimed – because someone would have to distract Baldr from the creepy surroundings, if he got scared.

Hel had laughed, but agreed to take her with them.

“You're just spooked by the howling of my dog”, she teased.

“Am not!”, Nanna huffed.

Either way, the brunette goddess was coming along.

Turned out, the way to Angrboða's home was long indeed.

The group of five walked through dark and fluorescing hallways.

After half an hour of walking, Nanna asked: “Why are the hallways in this castle so big? Could it be, that you have a thing for Gothic architecture?”

Hel, who was walking in front of them, paused.

When she faced Nanna, Baldr was surprised to see a sheepish expression on her face.

“I'm claustrophobic”, the Queen of the Dead confessed.

Nanna smiled: “Oh, I see. Don't worry. That's nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm asking, because I've been noticing a trend. Besides, I used to be agoraphobic as a child. I grew out of it, when I came to Asgarðr in Freyja's entourage. I mean, I had to. Asgarðr has so many wide places and streets.”

“Freyja's entourage? So you're a Vana?”, Ganglati asked. “I wouldn't have guessed! Though, to be fair, I have never seen a Vana before.”

Nanna just shrugged in response. “Yeah, most people think all Vanir are blond. Anyway”, she turned back to Hel, “thanks for telling me. I appreciate the trust.”

Hel gave her a warm half smile, before pointing toward the other end of the hallway. “Let's keep going. I want to be back before lunch. Remember, Hermóðr will arrive around three pm.”

Now Nanna was the one to stop dead in her tracks. “What?”, she breathed as all colour drained from her face.

Her shock caused Hel to blink in confusion. Then her right eye widened in realisation. “Shit! I forgot to tell you, that your former lover is coming to negotiate your and Baldr's release!” She tore at the blonde parts of her hair and her left side turned skeletal from distress. “Fuck, how could this happen?! I never forget important stuff like-”

“Leave it be”, Nanna said tiredly. “At least now I won't be caught off-guard, when he shows up.”

“But still! This is horrible! I should have made sure-”

“Hel, stop. Let it go. Everybody makes mistakes. Don't wreck your head over it, okay? I'm not upset. Shocked and a bit bewildered by the news, yeah, but not upset. It'll be alright.”

Hel nodded (though her expression remained glum) and turned back to the corridor ahead.

They continued on their not so merry way and crossed the entire castle, until they reached a lone, narrow corridor.

It was eerie: deadly quiet, chilly and filled with thick ground fog. The walls didn't fluoresce and high windows were pointing northwards, so the blue fire from the torches was the only light (Baldr's own glow not included).

Normally Baldr liked the darkness just fine, but this here was just creepy.

So he went ahead and took the hands of Nanna and Hel.

“What's wrong?”, Nanna inquired. “I thought you're fine with the dark.”

“This is probably different from the darkness he's used to”, Hel assumed. “Are you afraid, Baldr?”

“A little”, he admitted. “In the rest of the castle, the Gothic architecture looks amazing and there is at least a little more light, because of the black sun and the fluorescing walls. Here it feels more like I'm in a gothic horror novel by Edgard Allan Poe. Or in some ancient city from a Lovecraft story- HOLY COW!”

With that scream, he let go of the women's hands and leaped back at least three metres. He had just nearly bumped into what had to be the scariest statue he had ever seen.

“Frick!”, he gasped. “If I wasn't already dead, I'd be having a heart attack right now! What is that thing???”

“It's a gargoyle”, Hel answered. “Nothing to be afraid of. The only thing it does is let water run into this drain.” She pointed at the small channel in the floor beneath the gargoyle's maw.

Baldr blinked. “Huh. I didn't notice that before.”

“Well, you were close to falling into the water”, she deadpanned. “Then you would have noticed.”

Nanna burst into laughter, Ganglöt and Ganglati were struggling not to giggle.

Baldr shrugged it off. This was just Hel being Hel.

At that moment, an icy gust of wind came from outside the windows, making them all shiver.

Ganglöt and Ganglati groaned and flexed their joined, making a cracking sound.

“Yeah, a lot of windows still need to be glazed”, Hel said. “But this castle is huge, so it takes ages. And none of the glaziers wants to come down here.”

“Can't say I blame them”, commented Nanna. “This place is the creepiest thing ever! Darkness, blue fires, ground fog, freezing wind that chills you to the bone … only thing missing is the howling of wolves or the cawing of ravens.”

At that moment the deepest, most resounding howl Baldr had ever heard came from outside and echoed through the corridor.

“There it is”, Nanna noted, while Baldr froze in terror and grabbed one of Hel's arms.

Only a minute after the howling died down, did Baldr finally whisper: “What the here was that?! That wasn't a normal wolf!”

“It wasn't”, Hel confirmed. “That was my dog Garmr. But don't worry. He wouldn't harm anyone, unless I command it.”

Baldr was almost relieved to see the solemn look in her right eye. No laughing, giggling or even smiling from her, nor from Nanna or the elderly servants.

That didn't make him less embarrassed though.

“Sorry”, he mumbled in shame and let go of Hel's arm.

But then he noticed, that Nanna seemed hardly affected. “Wait a minute! Why aren't you scared?”

“I am”, she smiled weakly. “It's just not the first time I hear it. I've already heard it several times, back when I had to shovel snow in the garden. It still scares the shit out of me, but it doesn't catch me by surprise anymore. This is what Hel meant earlier, when she teased me about being scared of her dog.”

“I'm sorry about that”, Hel told them. “But it's okay to be scared. I used to be afraid too, when I was younger. Not of the howling, but of everything else here.”

“That's true”, Ganglöt piped up. “Back when she was a little girl and had just been given jurisdiction over Niflheimr and Helheimr. The first times we brought her here, she clung to our arms and shook like a leaf. Poor, frightened little thing.”

“Does that mean you two have been here longer than her?”, Nanna asked the elderly couple.

Ganglati nodded. “Much longer. We're as old as mankind.”

“Wow!”

Baldr pondered.

As old as manking, huh? That meant they were among the oldest beings to still exist. Which made him wonder even more what exactly they were. But he would ask them about that later, because for now the five of them had another goal.

Right as he had finished that thought, another, much deeper and darker howl made him shiver and he clung to Hel's arm again.

“Don't be frightened”, she tried to soothe him. “That's just Fenrir.”

“Just Fenrir???”, Nanna exclaimed incredulously. “Are you seriously trying to convince us not to be scared of the Fenriswolf?! I know, he's your brother and all, but don't tell me to not be scared of a wolf the size of Mount Everest!”

“Actually, he's bigger than- okay, I'll stop”, Hel chuckled, when the Vana glowered at her. “Anyway, let's keep going. We've been dawdling for too long. And Baldr, please let go of my arm. It's the dead one, if you tug at it too much, you'll rip it off.”

He apologised and released her arm.

Hel just shrugged and continued walking.

Ganglati tugged at the sleeve of Baldr's shirt to get his attention.

“I'm surprised you don't mind touching Her Majesty's left arm”, the old man remarked.

Baldr caught on. “It's fine”, he assured the other. “I don't care about the state of her arm and hand. They're hers. That's all that matters to me.”

At those words, Hel whirled around and gawked at him. Her left side was lively and her ghostly white face was flushed pink.

The sight was so adorable, that Baldr blushed a little as well.

In the background Nanna and the elderly servants snickered into their hands. A stern look from Hel silenced them, though.

Eventually, they walked around a corner and Hel stopped in front of a giant door (hand-carved ebony and adorned with weird-looking reliefs, because of course it was).

She knocked thrice and the door opened by itself to reveal … nothing. Just black. But Hel snapped her fingers and a circular staircase appeared in front of them.

A staircase with … glowing stairs?

Okay, that was surreal. And creepy as Niflheimr.

The black light of the stairs was so dim, that Baldr outshone it.

However, the walls absorbed 100% of the light, so the stairs were the only thing visible. Which made it even creepier. Like they were ascending within a big, black void.

Out of instinct Baldr reached for Hel's hand. This time he caught the right one. And as soon as she gripped his own hand firmly, he calmed down considerably. She seemed to have that effect.

Unfortunately, the effect was ruined by what Hel said next: “Mind your steps, Baldr and Nanna. There are no walls. The stairs are wide and rough to prevent slipping, but-”

“What???”, Baldr yelped, making everyone wince.

“Uhm … sorry … it's just … so this is no staircase at all? Just stairs? And we could fall off? And then we'd be lost forever?”

“Or hit the far off ground and smash like eggs?”, added Nanna.

Hel shook her head. “Neither. You will fall for a while through the darkness, until you enter a magical mist. It will gradually slow down your fall, until you gently land on the ground. Then you wander aimlessly, surrounded by nothing but fog and the wailing of the damned. Of course I'd come to get you out, but by the time I find you, you might have … lost your mind? I'm not sure, it's been only once, that I had to retrieve someone from the Abysses of Despair.”

Baldr wasn't sure, if he should laugh or cry.

And judging by her face, neither was Nanna. She was clinging to Ganglöt like a leech.

“Just hang in there a little longer, you two. We just need to get to the top and then we're there”, Hel tried to cheer them up. “The stairs don't go on for much longer-”

“Speak for yourself, young lady!”, Ganglati reprimanded her. “My legs are killing me!”

“Same”, said Ganglöt.

Hel sweatdropped.

 

All of them were relieved, when they finally reached the top of the stairway and came to a big platform.

“There”, Baldr said and carefully set Ganglöt and Ganglati onto the floor.

He had carried them on his arms for the rest of the stairs, after they had complained about their legs.

After they adjusted their clothes, the old couple smiled at him broadly.

“Such a gentleman! And so strong!”, Ganglöt giggled. “A true shining knight!”

“That's true, I suppose”, chuckled Ganglati and gave Baldr a pat on the back. “Thank you, lad. Everyone says how good you are, but few would be so attentive as to gladly help an old couple up the stairs.”

The Ás blushed, but waved it off. “It's nothing. I did offer to carry you, if you grew tired, didn't I?”

“Still!”, Ganglöt insisted. “You didn't have to do that, but you did it anyway. Don't play down your kindness, young man. It's not as much of a given as it should be.”

“I-”

“He has a point there, you know”, Nanna spoke up. “You think people would have loved you as much as they did, if kindness was universal?”

To that the Bright One didn't know what to say.

“Is everyone here?”, Hel asked. “Ah, yes. Good. Come on. We're almost there.”

She strode towards an archway at the other end of the platform, crossed it and disappeared into the green fog behind it.

The two elderly servants followed her, but unlike their mistress stopped to wait for the dead deities.

“Go in”, Ganglöt encouraged them.

Nanna shrugged and strode into the mist with a boldness Baldr wished he had right now.

Ganglati followed after her, leaving only Ganglöt and Baldr.

“Shall I hold your hand, Óðinnson?”, she offered. “I see you're still shaken.”

Gratefully he accepted and she led him into the green mist.

For a while there was nothing visible, except for the path (which had handrails, thank goodness) and the three people in front of them.

“This reminds me of something”, Baldr said to Ganglöt. “Remember when you guided me to Hel's audience hall and we had to cross Fallandaforað?”

Ganglöt nodded: “Yes. You clung to my hand, like your life depended on it.”

“And you freaking hummed 'Walking in the air', while we crossed the chasm!” Baldr shook his head.

The old lady laughed: “I thought it would be funny!”

“Eh, it was more absurd than funny”, he retorted. Then he thought of something. “Oh! How was it for you, Nanna?”, he called out.

“I crossed it on my own, tripped twice, scraped my knees and nearly broke my nose”, his ex-wife answered flatly.

“'Crossed' isn't the right word. She sprinted across like an Olympic athlete. I've never seen anyone run so fast without being chased by something.”

Suddenly Hel burst into laughter. She laughed so hard, that she had to support herself on the handrails.

“Oh my Norns, this is hilarious!”, she wheezed. “That image! Hahaha!”

“It wasn't funny!”, Nanna snapped. “Why does your threshold need to be an invisible magic bridge over a fucking chasm?!”

Hel shrugged, still snickering: “Sorts out the worst of the worst! The more people fall into the pit, the fewer souls I have to judge personally! So it takes a load of work off me!”

“It scares the everloving crap out of people is what it does!”

“Wait!”, threw Baldr in, “Didn't you say that only really bad people trip?”

“I cheated on you, Baldr. No matter the circumstance, adultery is generally considered a punk move”, Nanna pointed out.

“Oh. Right. Ah, whatever. You and I have sorted it out and later I'll sort it out with Hermóðr. So let's not talk about that anymore.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

And that settled that.

From here it was just a short walk until they arrived at another door. It was a normal wooden door carved with magic runes, with ivy creeping around the frame.

“We're here”, said Hel. “Behind this door lies my mother's humble abode. I called ahead yesterday, so she-” Before she could finish that sentence, the door opened by itself. It revealed a large circular antechamber filled with rustic furniture and exotic flora. There were several fireplaces, filling the room with warmth and orange light.

Hel and her two servants entered first.

Baldr and Nanna hesitated at first.

Then a woman's voice called out to them. It was placid and similar to Hel's, albeit smoother.

“What holds you back, young Ás? What holds you back, young Vana? Come in, you both!”

Chapter 7: The Queen Mother

Summary:

Baldr and Nanna finally meet Hel's mother Angrboda. There's bantering, arguing and ethical talk.

*Nanna's POV*

 

“Mother?”, Hel called out.

“I'm here”, came the reply from elsewhere, “in my blue cabinet of curiosities. Go to the lounge, I'll be there in a moment.”

“Okay”, said Hel and opened a door to the left.

Nanna took a moment to appreciate the interior.

She hadn't expected the home of a sorceress's ghost to look so homely, but it did. With its elaborate and colourful wall paintings, the wooden furniture and beautifully woven carpets, it was a nice change from the creepiness of this palace wing and the darkness and huge Gothic hallways of the even huger castle that was Éljúðnir.

The lounge was filled with bookshelves, there were armchairs and furs to sit on, a round table, a fireplace and weird-looking plants (from Járnviðr?). For some reason, glass rings were hanging from the ceiling, but when Nanna stood on a foot stool to flick one with her finger, it bumped into another, creating a soft chime.

So pretty!

“Let's sit down”, said Hel. “I don't know, how long we'll have to wait. Sometimes she gets so caught up in her work, that she forgets that she has guests.”

Ganglöt and Ganglati made themselves comfortable on the couch, Nanna and Baldr each sat on one of the furs.

But Hel seemed hesitant. Why didn't she sit down?

“Can anybody help me sit down?”, the Queen of the Dead asked.

Oh. Right.

Nanna got back up and helped her sit in one of the armchairs. “Shall I help you get back up later too?”, she offered.

“That would be appreciated”, the Queen of the Dead replied gratefully. “You know, you're a real gem, once one actually gets to know you.”

“It's true”, Baldr piped in. “And I regret, that I had to die to realise that.”

The Vana rolled her eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, you smooth talkers!”

Which earned her laughter from the other four.

“I'm glad you five are comfortable”, the voice from earlier spoke and everyone turned to the door.

There stood none other than the mistress of this tower.

Angrboða was a tall, gaunt woman, albeit not quite as tall as most Jötnar Nanna knew. Her skin was pale blue (Antarctic blue,¹ Nanna's mind supplied – oh no, Baldr had rubbed off on her!) and her lips purple, like those of someone freezing to death. Her platinum blonde hair was adorned with feathers and little twigs of yew. She was dressed like a Völva² and wow, were those actual frost flowers on her dress and skin?

There was an aura of knowing and mystery about her, of darkness and danger – her daughter had probably got that from her, along with the black eyes. Even the placid, deep voice was the same, albeit smoother (the benefit of healthy vocal cords).

Rather than greeting the group right away, Angrboða strode over to her daughter's armchair and they shared a warm embrace and loving words.

Hel smiled and introduced her to Nanna and Baldr: “You two, I want you to meet my mother, Angrboða. Mum, you already know, who they are.”

“That I do”, replied the older woman calmly. “Nanna Nepsdóttir and Baldr Óðinnson. Welcome to my home.” She extended a gloved hand. “It's nice to finally meet you two in person. I've been keeping an eye on you through my screens ever since you entered the underworld.”

Wow.

That explained why Nanna had often felt, like she was being watched. And judging by Baldr's slightly unsettled expression, it was the same for him.

Creepy.

But they swallowed their discomfort and shook hands with the sorceress.

 

*Baldr's POV*

 

When Baldr took the witch's hand, he was startled by how cold she was.

Despite the gloves she was wearing, Angrboða's freezing temperature seeped through the wool and chilled him to the bone.

“Whoooh! Cold!”, he cried, while Nanna sat by the fire and rubbed her hands.

Fortunately the Jötunn wasn't offended.

Instead, Angrboða chuckled: “Well, I sure hope so, I am a frost giantess after all.”

Her tone and the look in her eyes were warm and good-humoured, which gave Baldr the courage to straighten himself and talk to her properly.

“But it's very nice to meet you too, madam!”, he told her eagerly. “Your daughter has told me so much about you! It's so clear to see, who she takes after! You look so much alike!”

Angrboða and Hel exchanged a puzzled look, before starting to giggle.

“Why, thank you, young man!”, Angrboða chuckled. “You're the first person to actually pay attention to that.”

“It's not hard to tell! Right, Nanna?”, he asked his ex.

Nanna deadpanned: “What are you talking about? Can't you see Hel is her father's spitting image?”

Everyone, including the elderly couple on the couch, gawked at the dead goddess.

Then, one by one, they all burst out laughing.

“I can see, why my daughter is already so fond of you two”, Angrboða told Baldr and Nanna, as she poured everyone a cup of coffee.

“You're quite comfortable and entertaining to be around. And dare I say you're good for her. I haven't seen my baby girl this lively in ages! She has always been so gloomy! Haven't you, my little blueberry?”, she cooed and pinched Hel's right cheek.

“Muuuum! You're embarrassing me!”, Hel whined.

Baldr and Nanna giggled heartily, reminded of their son, when he had been young.

“But fun aside”, continued Angrboða, “I'm especially glad, that you're able to see her real self. Everyone is always so focussed on her abnormalities, that they fail to notice her unique beauty and charm. It's nice to meet an exception. I've always told my daughter, that she needed to make more friends.”

“Ganglöt and Ganglati are my friends!”, Hel protested.

“We don't count, Your Majesty”, Ganglöt threw in. “We're your personal servants.”

Hel craned her neck to give them a blank stare.

Baldr registered the exchange, but he was more focussed on what Angrboða had said before that.

He wholeheartedly agreed with her on that thing: that Hel was beautiful, fun and charming in her own, amazing Hel way. It was easy to admire and genuinely like her.

The thought made him blush a little and he faced away from everyone to hide it.

“I don't think her appearance is abnormal”, he mumbled. “In fact, I find it uniquely beautiful. Like you just said.”

When he turned back to them to see Hel's reaction, he saw that her left side was as lively as the right – and she was as red as a strawberry.

Cute.

Angrboða chuckled, as her daughter blushed and sputtered.

Then she turned to Nanna. “What about you?”

The Vana admitted, that Hel's appearance had indeed disgusted her at first.

“You got over it pretty quickly, though”, Hel pointed out. “Once your sentence was done, you only took three days to get used to it and the first thing you said about it was ask me, if it hurts.”

Nanna shrugged: “Well, I was curious. Still, did you have to take off your arm?!”

Hel grinned. “Absolutely! Your reaction was hilarious!”

Angrboða sighed and shook her head. “You have to forgive my daughter's mischief, Nanna. She's got that from her father, I fear.”

She took a sip from her coffee, set down her cup and asked, if anyone wanted cupcakes.

Hel objected: “We'll have lunch in a few hours-”

“But we didn't get to have breakfast, because someone couldn't decide, what to wear”, Baldr countered.

Nanna glowered at him: “Well, sorry for wanting to look presentable, when we were going to meet the Queen Mother of the underworld!”

“What are you talking about?! When we were alive, you used cloth making as an opportunity to flex your weaving and embroidery skills!”

The brunette's eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you don't like my embroidery?”

Baldr started sweating. “O-of course not! What I'm saying is-”

“I put my heart's blood into making your, Forseti's and Höðr's clothes!”

Angrboða intervened: “You two, please! There is no need to argue. But since you're clearly hangry, let's have cake. Some treats in the forenoon have never hurt anyone! And I baked those goods specifically for my guests!”

Baldr sighed: “Yes, I think that would do us all a world of good. Do you want me to help, madam?”

“Actually, I was hoping that your ex-wife would be so kind as to-”

“Gladly!”, Nanna exclaimed and jumped up. “Where is the kitchen?”

The Jötunn witch led the way and the fuming Vana trailed after her.

Hel blankly stared after them, before turning to Baldr.

“That seems to be a touchy subject”, she remarked.

Baldr nodded. “Mhm. If there's one thing my marriage to Nanna has taught me, it's this: never ever say anything negative about her embroidery. You can cringe at her singing, you can complain about her cooking, even scoff at her obsession with fashion. But if you talk smack about her embroidery … well, there was that one time she put Skaði in a headlock for criticising her needlework.”

“She didn't criticise my needlework!”, Nanna spat, as she returned with two more pots of coffee and milk. “She looked at the solar symbolism I embroidered in gold onto Baldr's shirt and said it was 'too fancy'! Too fancy! I put time and effort into creating works of art with needle and thread, into making clothes deserving of their owner, and that bitch had the audacity to call them 'too fancy'?! Hah! Well, I showed her 'fancy' alright!”

“You're sounding like Sigyn”, Baldr commented. “But you have to settle down. We're inside someone else's home.”

“Right. Apologies”, muttered Nanna. Despite her indignation, she set the pots down with great care, before unceremoniously dropping herself down onto one of the furs and starting to sulk.

“Too fancy!”, she hissed.

“Nanna, let it go”, Baldr said gently. “We're in Helheimr. We dine at the table of the Queen of the Dead. There is no point in holding onto old grudges.”

For a few seconds she glared daggers at him. Then her expression finally mellowed out.

“I suppose you're right”, she gave in and poured herself a cup of coffee, as Angrboða returned with two tablets of cakes.

“Do help yourselves”, the witch invited them. “Being a frost giantess makes it hard for me to taste anything or check the temperature, but I hope you'll like them anyway.”

“Your baking can't be as bad as mine”, Nanna deadpanned. “Your kitchen doesn't look like it's been on fire recently.”

Collective laughter.

The platters were handed around, so everyone could pick a cake.

They looked very appetising, that was for sure. Beautifully decorated, like cakes in a pâtisserie (Baldr knew about those, because he had been to the human world a few times).

He picked out an apple pie and took a bite.

It tasted decent. The pie was properly baked and while Angrboða had been a little too generous with the condiments for Baldr's taste, the apples balanced that out. So he ate the rest.

Nanna was digging into her chocolate cake, while Hel was eating her nut cake with the queenly dignity she always consumed her meals with. Ganglöt and Ganglati were just eating their cakes like normal people.

After a while, Angrboða spoke up again: “I'm happy you two are as comfortable around my daughter as she is around you.”

Baldr blushed and played with his left braid, as he replied: “It's easy to, once you get to know her. She's calm, just and sensible. I like that.”

“You forgot sympathetic”, Nanna added. “Remember, adulterers like me usually get a far harsher punishment than the one I got. And even if not, most people would just view me as a filthy cheater and a whore. Especially since I was cheating on you. Hel could have done the same, but she didn't. She took the circumstances into consideration. How many people would?”

Hel sighed: “To exact justice is to consider every point of view. As a queen I have to judge infidelity, but as a woman, I will never judge someone for searching for love, when their spouse can't give it.”

Baldr averted his eyes.

It was true, he had let his wife down. He hadn't been able to give her the love she'd needed and wanted. Maybe being cheated on had served him right for being such a cold husband …

“Óðinnson.”

When he looked up, Angrboða was gazing at him with that owlish expression he knew from her daughter.

“What happened, happened”, she said. “It's in the past. We cannot control, who we love, nor can we force ourselves to love someone we don't. Just like my daughter, I do not blame you two. I understand the situation all too well. For me, Loki and Sigyn it was the same. Loki and I rarely talked about her. We didn't want to. That is harsh, I know. But Loki was the only man I ever loved and I know that he too loved me deeply. I didn't hate her, but as a lover I couldn't help but feel bitter towards her. It was only after I was dead and my little girl was appointed Queen of the Dead, that my view changed. Apparently, the Ásynja was a good and loving stepmother to my children, in spite of her resentment of my dear flamehead. That says a lot about a person. Especially considering who my children are.”

Nanna nodded vehemently. “You're absolutely right. She was my best friend in life and she's Baldr's oldest sister.”

Angrboða tilted her head. “Then you must know her well. Tell me about her, you two. So far I only know what Hel has told me about her, but she only knew her for a bit over two years. And things likely have changed since then.”

Baldr cleared his throat. “I was still a baby by the time Hel and Jörmungandr were banished, and a toddler by the time the Fenriswolf was bound. I didn't even know about that, until the night before I died. That night was the first and last time Loki willingly talked to me. He showed me his necklace and got really upset as he told me its backstory.”

Angrboða's eyes bored into his soul. “A necklace?”

“A gold chain adorned with a curl from Hel, a scale from Jörmungandr and the tip of a front tooth from Fenrir. Loki told me that Sigyn made that necklace for him and that he wouldn't give it up for anything. It meant all nine worlds and more to him.”

A keening sound made all eyes dart to Hel. Straight as a candle, she was sitting in her armchair and her left side was almost skeletal, as she wheezed and visibly struggled to hold back tears.

Baldr leapt up and hurried over to give her a comforting embrace.

As soon as his arms were around her, she let out a terrible moan and cried into his shoulder.

“I'm so sorry”, the Ás apologised. “I shouldn't have mentioned that necklace.”

“No, no”, Hel sobbed. “I'm glad you did! It's just …”

“She misses our family”, Angrboða finished. “We were brutally torn apart and my children had to watch, as Þórr killed me with his hammer. And then she was taken from her father and brothers as well. No matter how much time has passed since then, it will always hurt.”

The witch's voice was still calm, but Baldr could tell, that she was fighting strong emotions. Her mien was grim and her obsidian eyes were glacial, like a furious snowstorm.

“Why did your family have to treat us this way?”

Baldr sighed as well and leaned his chin on the head of Hel, who was still sobbing in his arms.

“I don't know, Madam. Despite my alleged wisdom, I can't comprehend such cruelty. Though my personal theory is … perhaps it was fear. Fear of the unknown, the unpredictable. My father has always been afraid. At least my mother said so.”

Silence fell over the group.

Suddenly Nanna clapped her hands, startling everyone.

“Let's talk about Sigyn again”, she suggested. “You know, the person we were talking about, before we digressed?”

Angrboða chuckled: “Right. Sure. So, tell me more about her. From what little Loki told me, when I was alive, she must have been quite a difficult woman to deal with.”

Nanna shrugged: “Well … she is a loose cannon. But let it not be said, that her temper tantrums are unfounded. Loki can't just go around being a menace and expect her not to get mad.”

“Nanna!”, Baldr exclaimed.

She scowled: “Well, it's true!”

Baldr couldn't honestly say that he disagreed with her – heck, he had said it to Loki's face – but he would never be so tactless as to say that out loud in front of Loki's daughter and deceased lover.

Angrboða cleared her throat: “So she has an explosive temper.”

“Yeah, most people in Ásgarðr don't like her, because of that”, Nanna confirmed. “But that's because they don't bother to get to know the real Sigyn.”

The witch tilted her head in curiosity.

Nanna took this as encouragement to give a full characterisation of her friend: “When I first met her, I was sure there had to be something behind her harsh exterior, so I sought her out. At first she was suspicious, but I kept coming back to talk and soon we were besties. The Sigyn I know is the best friend you could have. I could talk to her about anything, ask her for advice, come to her for comfort and support, and she would defend me, when I needed it. And I'd do the same for her.”

“Has she ever mentioned my children and me?”

“Yes, actually. She told me, that when she had found out Loki already had you four by the time they got married, she understood he'd rather be with you than an arranged wife he didn't get along with. And that it made her like him a little more, because she loves kids and realised he wasn't some deadbeat father leaving his kids behind for someone else.”

Angrboða seemed relieved to hear the last part. “I see. And I heard he had two sons with her as well?”

“My nephews/cousins Nari and Narfi”, Baldr confirmed. “They're just a year younger than me. They're also the cutest little kids. They have my sister's starry hair and their father's eyes.”

“Ah. And their mother … does she love Loki?”

“Absolutely!” Nanna said with conviction. “She hates what he does, but she doesn't hate Loki himself. There isn't the slightest shred of ill will in her body. No matter how angry she is at someone, when they need her, she's there. Especially for Loki and their kids.”

Angrboða's smile widened. “Wonderful. Thank you two for satiating my curiosity. Now let's talk about something else. I happen to know, that despite your differences, you two have a child together?”

“Forseti, god of law and justice”, Baldr confirmed proudly, “Our flesh and blood and the one thing that truly kept us together.”

“He's our pride and joy!”, Nanna agreed.

The two of them proceeded to gush on about their son till they were stopped by Hel.

 

*Hel's POV*

 

As sweet and wholesome as hearing two doting parents gush about their son was, Hel felt that she better bring an end to this, before they sat here all day (and maybe also because she envied Forseti a little bit for getting to grow up with his loving parents).

“Mum, why don't you tell them some stuff about yourself and us?”, she asked.

Baldr and Nanna nodded eagerly, like children about to hear a beloved bedtime story.

Her mum chuckled: “Well, you probably already know that in life I was a powerful Vala living alone in Járnviðr, until I met Loki.”

“How did you two meet?”, asked Baldr. “I'd love to know that.”

“Hmm … a few decades before your birth, Loki was accompanying your father and some other friend whose name I forgot, on a quest for more knowledge and wisdom. They travelled through my woods and I entertained them as guests for a while. Honestly, I found Óðinn and his other friend pretty dull and untrustworthy, so when the former asked me to share my magical knowledge, I told him to get out of my woods. Loki on the other hand … such a cutie!”, the frost giantess sighed dreamily.

Hel couldn't help but cringe on the inside, as her mother proceeded to ramble about her dad in this gross-out cheesy way.

“He had the most darling confused look, the most adorable head tilt, and the cutest freckles! That together with the sly twinkle in his eyes, that voice that reminded me of silver, and oh, he had a smile that could melt my icy heart! As a frost giantess, I am never warm, nor can I feel heat. But when I touched him, I could feel how hot he really was, and it was such a foreign yet enlivening feeling! For the first time in my life I felt warm and alive and I fell in love with that feeling – and the cute trickster, who could made me feel it. And he fell in love with my cold, because for the first time he had a relief, whenever the raging fire inside him grew too strong. Opposites don't always attract, but Loki and I sure did! Of course our opposite natures meant there were some unforeseen side-effects, after all, fire and ice aren't meant to be compatible. But as you can see by Hel, Fenrir and Jörmungandr, that never stopped Loki and me.”

“Well, you two definitely got some mad genes”, remarked Nanna flatly.

Hel and Baldr both gasped in shock, not having expected this to come out of Nanna's mouth.

The Vana shrugged: “What? It's a compliment!”

Fortunately Angrboða thought it was funny and laughed: “Oh, yes! Our children are splendid, unusual as they may look! Jörmungandr had the most beautiful luminescent scales, when he was a baby! They took the colour of his father's eyes, as he entered toddler stage, but oh, he was such a lovely little snake boy! And you should have seen little Fenrir! He was the cutest little puppy! His fur was the very definition of fluffiness and he loved gentle pets!”

Nanna smiled: “Hey, Sigyn said pretty much the same! You know, she would always gush to me about how cute her step-children were. She also told me that Jörmungandr used to wrap himself around her and bury his head in her hair.”

Hel couldn't help but feel nostalgic. “Yes, he did love doing that. Especially, when he was missing mum, he would snuggle Sigyn's hair, because it was so soft and pretty. She allowed it, because she thought it was sweet and she knew it made him feel better.”

Her mother arched an eyebrow. “Do I have reason to be jealous?”

“Of course not!”, cried the Queen of the Dead. “But mum! She had stars in her hair! It looked like the nightsky! So pretty!”

Angrboða's eyes narrowed, making Hel fidget nervously, but Baldr came to her rescue by confirming that his older sister was indeed starry-haired and eventually the giantess relented.

“Well, I do love the stars. Loki and I would often watch them during winter and tell stories around the brightest stars and the constellations. It was so romantic. Later we wanted to do this with our children, but Jörmungandr was very sensitive to cold and had to stay near the fire in my house. It was only when Loki visited, that Jörmungandr could join us outside in winter, wrapped around his father's hot body. Poor dear would feel excluded and sad about it sometimes.”

Baldr looked sympathetic. “Makes sense, if he's a snake. Must have been a bummer for him to only be able to see the stars during those short periods right before and after the midnight sun, when the nights are warm enough for a reptile to handle.”

“Oh yes”, said Angrboða. “But I'm glad his stepmother humoured him. Fenrir and Hel always loved looking at the stars too. Before everything went to here, every time we stargazed, Hel would fall asleep in my arms, while Fenrir would curl up in Loki's.”

Baldr gave Hel a strange smile. “What a heartwarming story. You must have been the most adorable little Jötunn girl.”

“I can see it before my inner eye!”, Nanna whispered delightedly and beamed at Hel. “A little baby you! Blissfully dreaming in your mother's arms!”

Hel felt herself flush with embarrassment, as Baldr and Nanna gushed at the cute story, but the memory – one of the earliest she had – made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. It was one of her favourites from those early days with her whole family.

“I miss the stars”, she admitted. “I haven't seen them since I was ten. No matter how hard I try, I can't replicate the nightsky in my realm.”

“It was just one of many things that made her homesick back then”, threw Ganglöt in. “Poor little thing she was-”

“Don't start with that again! If I have to hear that sentence one more time, I'll go nuts, so be silent!”, exclaimed Hel.

“You can't make me stop”, the elderly maidservant replied flatly in a tone that clearly indicated that she was flipping her queen off with her mind.

(Both Ganglöt and Ganglati were older than Hel and her mother [who was ancient in her own right] and occasionally let it show by sassing her, which could be really irritating)

Hel could feel her left half decay from the annoyance and repeated sharply: “Be silent, peasant.”

Ganglöt narrowed her eyes at the queen.

“What did you just call me, Missie?”, she asked with the deceptively calm tone of someone, who was only one wrong word away from going berserk.

“Oh no, not again!”, Angrboða groaned, but made no attempt to interfere.

There were very few things that could disturb Ganglöt's placid and (grand)motherly nature (it had helped a younger Hel develop a fundamentally stable mind), so any obvious sign of displeasure was a warning not to poke this bear.

But as much as Hel loved her elderly servants, she had only so much tolerance for sass – especially in front of other subjects and her mother – so she didn't back down this time.

“You heard me!”, she said. “Must I remind you, that I'm the one ruling this realm, not you?”

Ganglati – ever a dutiful and loving husband – stood by his wife: “And with all due respect, Your Majesty, must we remind you, that we have resided here since the dawn of mankind? That we lived long before agriculture, civilisation and social hierarchy? That we know this realm like the back of our own hands, even more so than you? That we are the ones, who were by your side, when you were a scared and lonely child far away from home without a way to go back?”

Hel felt a vein protrude on her forehead. “That was over 3000 years ago, how much longer are you going to try and milk that?!”

 

*Baldr's POV*

 

Seeking to prevent escalation, Baldr decided to step in and mediate.

“Guys! Please! Don't fight over something so trivial! You're all wonderful and respectable people! There is no need to be rude to each other! Ganglöt and Ganglati, perhaps you shouldn't fret over an ancient and powerful goddess like she's still a lost little girl. That's a disrespectful thing to do. And Hel, maybe don't resort to classist phrases, when rebuking your servants. It's just not a good look and they didn't mean you any harm.”

Angrboða breathed a sigh of relief and gave Baldr a grateful smile, when the quarrellers settled down and apologised to each other.

“You three are too stubborn sometimes”, she scolded her daughter and her servants.

The response was predictably luke-warm, but who'd expect otherwise.

So Baldr asked the Jötunn witch, if she was willing to tell them about her parents.

Angrboða shrugged. “Sure, why not? Well, my mother died when I was born, so I don't remember her. My father raised me by himself and taught me everything he knew, until he too died. You may have heard of him; his name was Vafþrúðnir.”

Baldr's jaw dropped. “Va- Vafþrúðnir?! The Vafþrúðnir?! Who got into a contest of wisdom with my father?”

“The very same.”

“Oh. I'm sorry my father killed yours, then.”

Angrboða rolled her eyes. “Don't be. My father wagered his head and lost fair and square. What matters to me is that he accepted his loss and demise with peace and dignity. And I don't blame your father for that either – at least not anymore. While his last question was a bit of a low blow, his life was on the line just as much as my father's. And … I was there.” Her eyes glazed over, as she saw it play out before her. “I remember it like yesterday. I saw it in their faces, the way they respected each other more and more with every question answered correctly, their calm delight at meeting an equal. They were completely relaxed, like they were just playing a harmless guessing game, rather than having a fierce battle of wits with the loser's head as the price. Two ancient, wise men. Trying to determine, who was this pantheon's biggest nerd.”

The last sentence caught Baldr so off guard, that a snort escaped him, before he could stop it. He instantly apologised and curled in on himself in a futile attempt to make himself invisible (Höðr was so good at that, Baldr had always envied him just a little bit).

Angrboða smiled lopsidedly. “Don't feel ashamed. I'm the one, who should apologise. I was trying to lighten the mood, but unlike my lover and your ex-wife, I'm not good at humour at all.”

(Nanna was trying not to look too flattered)

“It's okay”, Baldr replied. “It's just embarrassing, because my siblings would totally laugh at such an inappropriate joke, but I don't actually think it's funny, so I'm not sure why I just laughed.”

“Maybe I'm rubbing off on you?”, Hel suggested light-heartedly, which actually did make Baldr laugh in amusement.

“You know, you just might be! I lived my whole life completely unfazed by my family's and your father's crude humour, only for yours to rub off on me! Perhaps I should worry about you corrupting me!”, he teased her.

Hel smirked at him: “Hmm, indeed you should.”

All of the sudden, Nanna piped up: “You two! Keep the sweet-talking for later!”

It took the two a few seconds to understand what she meant, but when they did, both blushed.

“Nanna, why???”, complained Baldr.

“Because we're having coffee and cake with the Queen Mother of the Underworld, so maybe dial it down on the flirting”, she shrugged, but the Ása noticed the twinkle in her eye.

Wait … flirting?!?

Baldr looked to Hel for support, but the Queen of the Dead was too busy trying to hide her flushed face behind her hair.

To add insult to injury, Angrboða, Ganglöt and Ganglati were trying to smother their giggles at the interaction. Three old people having fun at the expense of younger generations.

In an attempt to save some face, he cleared his throat and asked Angrboða, if she had more questions towards him.

The Jötunn thought for a few seconds, before deciding: “Yes, actually. Why don't you tell me a little about that beloved twin-brother of yours, Óðinnson?”

The Ás immediately brightened up.

“Alright, first I want everyone here to know, that Höðr is the best brother in the whole world and no one can convince me otherwise!”, he proudly proclaimed.

“Well, then square up, because I think my brothers are the best in the world!”, challenged Hel.

Baldr just gave her the stinkeye and rambled on: “He presides over darkness and winter. I'm the god of spring, but my favourite season is winter, simply because of how my brother reigned over it. He's blind, yet under his hands, winter became a season of wonder, a time of peace and rest; and his darkness felt safe and comforting. Every time I broke down mentally, Höðr would be the one to bring me back to earth. He knew how messed up I was, but he never judged or pitied me, never expected anything. Höðr is calmer and more rational than I am – or rather he was, until Loki tricked him into killing me. My poor brother … he must be so crushed and devastated right now.” His eyes grew hard. “I'm sorry, Hel and Angrboða, but this is the one thing I cannot forgive Loki for. That he tricked my loving twin into spilling my blood, knowing it would break him.”

“Of course, we understand”, Angrboða assured him. “That was a cowardly and insidious thing to do and as much as I still love Loki, I will not defend such an evil act.”

“Indeed. If my father was here, I would tell him off for that crime”, Hel concurred.

“I'm glad you see it that way”, Baldr told them. “He deserves everything that others wanted for me. He's more like dad than I am, but also not. Because he'd never hurt people the way our father hurts people. The worst he would do is whoop people with his blind man's cane, if they go on his or my nerves.”

“How is he like Óðinn, then?”, asked Hel, looking visibly confused.

Baldr smiled: “Höðr's wry and sarcastic, just like dad. That and he takes no nonsense from anyone. At some point everyone learned to just leave him in peace. Dad has taught him rune magic too. It's a tactile art, so my brother's really good at it. Sometimes they held little rune magic contests and Höðr even won once or twice.”

“Your father must be very proud of him”, Angrboða remarked.

The Ása chuckled: “Oh, yes. Dad never said it out loud – that's just not his way – but I knew he was proud of Höðr. I just had to remind my brother of that once in a while.”

“Does he have friends?”, asked Hel.

Baldr nodded. “Uh-huh. Heimdallr, Bragi and me. But while he only called us his friends, I'm pretty sure a lot more people considered him a friend.”

“I know I did”, Nanna admitted quietly. “He has never treated me unkindly. He knew how bad our marriage was and I'm pretty sure he knew about my affair, even if he didn't say it out loud, but he still called me 'sister' and appreciated the clothes I made for him. The other gods just don't give him the credit he deserves.”

“And now they never will. What a shame”, Angrboða spoke gravely. “The fate of Höðr Óðinnson is truly truly a sad one. As a Völva, I have knowledge of the past, presence and future. And the fact, that they're planning his demise, should you not be returned to life, isn't making it better.”

The Bright One blanched. “Wh-what? Th-they want to kill him?! No! That's wrong! They can't do that! He was tricked, he's innocent!”

The Witch's expression grew solemn, almost gloomy, as she explained: “Innocent or not, you still died by his hands. But that's not the worst of it. Your brother is in agony, young Ás. His guilt and grief are consuming him and he's yearning for the mercy of death. I don't blame your father for wanting to end his youngest son's suffering.”

She looked like she knew more, but chose not to say it. Which was good, because Baldr was on the verge of bawling his eyes out. His poor little brother. This wasn't fair.

“When will he die?”, he croaked.

Angrboða hummed thoughtfully. “In four years or so. On a summer day.”

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't-

Hel put a hand on his right shoulder. “Hey”, she said with an unprecedented gentleness, “Look at it this way. Your brother will be with you soon. His parents will mourn for their lost sons, but you two will reunite and rejoice.”

She was right, of course. Baldr just had to wait for him. Still, her words didn't really comfort the god of light. Perhaps they would've comforted the god of darkness, though.

 

*Nanna's POV*

 

They spent the rest of the visit talking about less depressing topics and finishing their food, in an attempt to take their minds off the heartbreaking prospect of Höðr's impending doom.

But it was nagging at her and she could tell Baldr was feeling the same. He still looked devastated. And how could he not? Höðr was his twin-brother after all.

Fucking Loki!, she thought angrily, but rather than say it, she pressed her lips together and kept her resentful thought to herself this time. Still, she sincerely hoped she'd never see that arsehole again, because there was no guarantee she'd be able to resist punching him in the face (and unlike Baldr, she punched hard), even if it upset Hel.

And sure enough, the Queen of the Dead put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a pleading look, that said more than a thousand words. Nanna pressed her lips together tighter and placed her own hand on the other's, but gave Hel a grim look, that said: Sorry, but I can't promise you anything.

Hel looked sad and the left half of her body decayed, but she clearly understood.

Notes:

1) a shade of white-blue
2) a seeress

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 4 of Norse mythology