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Baldr in Hel - Ch. 07

*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.

---

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

#norse mythology #baldr #hel #nanna #angrboða #ganglot #ganglati

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