Lily laughed across the table, pulling him out of his thoughts. She was so carefree—so in love. It had been a long time since he'd seen that expression. Nanna had been very reticent to their union at first, but Balder had known they would be happy in the end. And they would be again. He would ensure it.
If there was a person intent on destruction, they needed to know. There was soon to be a child to protect. Perhaps more in the future. Pain twisted inside him. Forseti's fate was also yet to be discovered, but it was something he also feared learning. It could destroy Nanna if it was a horrendous end to the son they had both loved.
Chapter 19
AT FIRST, NANNA SOUGHT nature as she walked out of Vali's hall, dashing past the villagers as quickly as she could until she reached the meadow she had taken to visiting. In the warm sun, she could sit there for hours, seeking solitude and escape. Everyone was worried about her, and she wished they wouldn't. Balder, Lily, the servants. Constantly they poked and prodded, wishing her to speak more, engage more, want more. She really wanted less.
It was perhaps unfair. They were being kind worrying about her. Although she couldn't say if there was anything to worry about. Granted, there had been moments—quite a few—where she simply wished for true death, to not exist. But her body drew breath without fail. Perhaps it was that wish they worried about.
Today, the wish wasn't so strong. Sitting in the meadow like this, with insects buzzing around her, flowers reaching their petals to the sun, she felt quite content. Out here, she didn't have to think—she could just be, seeking the sun no different from the flowers around her. They did not think, did not mourn the past or their losses, didn't have to determine how they felt—they just were.
There was light wetness seeping through her dress as she lay back in the grass, stretching her bare legs. She had forgotten to wear shoes—or perhaps not. Since being free of Hel's shoes that bound her in Helheim, she didn't want to wear shoes at all. That might be a problem come winter, but for right now, she didn't care. Even if the villagers thought her strange and scurried out of the way when she came. They really didn't need to—she was one of them. They didn't perhaps see that, though.
To them, she was akin to a god like Vali and Balder, plucked from Midgard to dwell in Asgard. In truth, she had no idea what she was now. Her heart still beat and that was as far as her understanding went.
After lying with her eyes closed for a while, she rose to return to the hall. This time she didn't rush down the village street to seek solitude in her bedchamber. She lingered; she watched. These things the villagers did were all familiar to her. Gods did not work in any meaningful sense. They warred, they debated, they cheated. Food was always bountiful, structures raised by magic. For humans, their daily bread took toil.
As she watched, a dairymaid walked with her buckets hanging off her shoulders. In a sunny spot, a woman sat spinning wool.
These things were familiar to her. Granted, she hadn't been expected to do these tasks when she had grown up. They were not the tasks for the daughter of a king, but they felt familiar to her. They were comforting when she felt there was little else to be had. Or rather, little else she could bear.
The clinking strike of a hammer caught her ears and she followed the noise. She knew this sound too. A blacksmith at work at his forge.
By the billowing smoke from a chimney, she knew where he was and slowly walked toward his workshop. The forge was in a covered area and the dark-haired man stood by his anvil, striking the glowing hot iron. Broad and muscly as blacksmiths always were.
Seeing her, he looked up, his hammer freezing for a moment. He didn't smile or react, was simply acknowledging that he was being observed. Broad, simple features and thick corded arms. Not the handsome man Balder was, but Nanna liked watching him as he continued to work, turning his back on her to nestle his metal into the fire.
For a moment, Nanna smiled before moving on. Why had she sought to distance herself from the people of the village? She didn't know now. These were her people—she was finally back in Midgard.
Not exactly her people. Her village and family were long gone, had lived eons ago.
Slowly walking back to the hall, she observed everything around her. The children playing, the pig lumbering by, trying to escape the unpredictability of the children.
"It is good to see you out," Balder said behind her. Inside her, she felt her guard rise as though walls slammed down around her. Her tentative steps outside herself backtracked.
No response came to her mind. It never did to the things he said or asked. The slight touch of his hand to her shoulder made her cringe. It wasn't a voluntary action; she couldn't help it.
"I would be happy to take you for a ride if you wish to explore further."
"No," she said and turned into the darkness of the hall. It took her eyes a moment to adjust. She did not want to sit at Balder's back and pretend everything was as it had been, because it wasn't.
"I am trying to create peace between us," he said before she walked too far away.
"There is no war between us," she replied. There wasn't.
"Is there not?"
"No," she said. It wasn't as though she was rejecting his touch because she wanted him to do something, or change in some way. She simply didn't want to be touched.
"What can I do?" he asked.
Nanna stared at him for a moment, internally not able to say what she felt. Or perhaps she didn't feel. All those things with him had been destroyed by time and the cold waters of Helheim's lake. "I can't go back to what we were," she finally said, feeling the truth of those words as they came out. She couldn't simply go back and resume being his wife.
"Then we must start again," he said. There was gentleness in his voice. Everything he did with her was gentle, as though he feared she would fall apart at any moment. She wasn't weak. This wasn't weakness.
Not saying anything further, she turned away. The notion of starting again strived inside her. Did she have some kind of obligation to him? Through death and centuries, could she simply start again? She had been true to her word—she had loved him for a lifetime, had died as he had.
Now she was being reborn. They had both been reborn.
Seeking her room, she ached for solitude, but it was Balder she was escaping from. Perhaps she simply needed time to gather her thoughts, to understand what it was she felt. It wasn't the need to punish that distanced her from him. But she needed distance.
He, on the other hand, wished to rekindle, to lay the past to rest and resume what had been. It was a need to do right by her after everything that had passed.
"I don't want you to do right by me," she said to the empty space of her bedchamber. It felt important to say it. It was more important to say it to him. Turning around, she returned to the main hall. Balder was still here. "I relinquish you from any need to make up for the past."
"How can you say that? My actions caused you untold suffering. I must shoulder some of the blame."
"I relinquish you from all things that have passed. I relinquish you from all things that have been. Any and all obligations."
The drawn eyebrows showed how confused he was. Why was this confusing? She couldn't have stated it any more simply. They stood for a moment, quite far away from each other. "You are my wife," he finally said. "I must—"
"Not anymore. That bond ceased when we died." Balder wasn't happy, but Nanna felt a heavy weight coming off her. "It is the thing that makes most sense. After we died, you had no obligation to me. There is nothing to apologize or make up for."
He did not agree; she could see it in his eyes. "I will always have obligation to you."
"Not anymore."
Drawing breath, he exhaled. "Then I must win your heart back."
At some point, that would have sounded romantic. Right now, she didn't care. All she felt was freedom. It wasn't that she wished him pain and suffering. There was no heat in her words or her thoughts; she simply wanted to be free. Her love had died
—been stifled out like an unattended fire.
Clearly he wanted to be husband and wife again. Be that as it may—she was too confused to even consider it at the moment. Perhaps understanding would grow between them again, but the slate of the past needed to be wiped clean. It was the only way she could live now.
The lightness inside her returned. This was the right thing—the right way. What she needed was to reclaim who she was—her human self. The relationship between her and Balder would have to be negotiated out of the person she was here and now—a person she didn't really know yet. Perhaps she would grow to love him again. It wasn't something she was able to commit to right now.
Chapter 20
SITTING BY THE MAIN fire, Balder nursed his mead, wishing it was something stronger. Things had gone sideways today and he had trouble accounting for it. It was hard to determine what Nanna said and wanted. She had severed their connection today, saying they were no longer husband and wife.
As hard as he tried, he had not done enough to earn her forgiveness. Everything he proposed, she rejected. The offer to build her a hall, the offer to spend time with her. No question of spending the night with her. Everything he did, she rejected. Anything she wished he would do. He'd be up for any quest she'd ask of him. Fighting a dreadful monster was easier to deal with than simple rejection.
Her rejection had not stopped him in the past—he'd pushed past it and had prevailed. He had earned her love, but things were different now. He would even go so far as to say he had been brutish back then. It had perhaps not been wise, but it had worked, in the end. There had always been a spark there, even if her loyalty had been elsewhere. Now, though, a show of force would not impress her. Now she wanted nothing to do with him.
Perhaps this meant he simply had to work harder to earn her back—to earn the forgiveness he needed.
Soft footsteps made him look up hopefully, but it was Lily rather than Nanna returning to pledge her forgiveness and love. There was a smile on Lily's face—the smile of a woman in love. How many millennia had it been since he'd seen that smile? Her hand was on her belly, protecting the child that grew inside her. A spear of yearning ached inside him. That had been Nanna once. She had been happy and contented, their child growing inside her.
Why could he not have that back? He simply had to try harder.
"Balder," Lily said. "Why are you looking so glum?"
For a moment, he didn't know what to say. He was beyond glum, but he didn't know if he should confide in her. There wasn't really anyone else he could confide in. Hel had been the only one for such a long time. The thought made him snort sharply, and Lily looked at him, misunderstanding the gesture.
"Today Nanna said she wasn't my wife anymore," he admitted.
Gently, Lily sat down. She had such a pretty, open face. It wasn't hard to see why Vali had fallen in love with her. "I'm sorry," she said. It wasn't a surprise to her. Had she seen this coming, or had Nanna confided in her?
She simply sat there and waited for him to speak, which was a bit annoying—perhaps clever. "We've been here before, of course," he said. "It was easier then. I slayed her husband and stole her from his house."
Lily opened her mouth and floundered as if she didn't know what to say. Balder did enjoy retelling the story.
"There is no husband to slay now—other than myself. I don't know what to do."
"Perhaps you simply have to comply with her wishes."
Discomfort welled in him and he stopped himself from shifting in his seat. Was he supposed to simply let her be? How would that solve anything? Doing nothing wasn't how things were achieved. It certainly did nothing to alleviate the guilt he felt. It hurt to admit it, but guilt was driving him.
Nanna was pure in deed and intention—she always had been. Hel was anything but. Purity wasn't a concept she even understood.
Still, earlier, he'd felt his body quickening with her presence. It was only a reaction, an aftereffect, but it did nothing to alleviate his guilt.
With a groan, he rose—unable to simply sit there and stew in the badness that surrounded him like a cloud. Why could things not be easy? There was nothing he could fix, could do to make things better. Nanna didn't want him, and perhaps he needed to just live with that. Accept it.
Maybe she was right and they needed some time to recover themselves. Hel was still lingering in his mind every time he closed his eyes. The potion was gone, but the habits were ingrained. Those habits needed to be broken. He'd been so intent on making things right with Nanna, he had pushed too strongly, not really knowing what it was they were doing. So intent had he been to escape Hel.
"Perhaps she is right," he finally conceded. It could be said his reasons were not true. That was not to say there was no future between him and Nanna. Her claim was that neither of them knew if they belonged together.
It was time to let it go, to not be married, and to focus on other things, like the hidden one who still lived—if they still lived.
They had queried Ratatosk, who claimed not to know of anyone dwelling in any of the realms. Not exactly known for being trustworthy. He should have queried Hel more, but he'd been so intent on defending himself, it hadn't even occurred to him. But there had never been anyone mentioned, nor had anyone ever come to her hall. They had assumed they were utterly alone.
Another spear of discomfort pierced him. They hadn't been alone—Nanna had been there, but she had laid in the water alone and discarded. A groan escaped his throat. How could he ever make up for the things that he had done? Hel's accusation had been that he hadn't loved her enough to break the spell. It was the most uncomfortable thing to face, and he had flatly refused, but what if it were true? It was not. It could not be.
Driven to do something, he left the hall, seeking the horse he had met in the field outside. The animal had come to him and Balder had claimed him.
In the end, he didn't have a destination in mind. Asgard was inaccessible without Thor's chariot, and he wasn't intent enough to go back and get it. Instead, he rode the land, the endless stretches of fields and then forests. There were grasslands and mountains, but he kept on going.
Eventually he reached another village. It was small, the people suspicious. It had none of the benefits of strength that Vali had provided to his own village.
Dismounting, Balder walked to the well and drew up some water. It was cool and quenched his thirst. Then he sat down at the edge of the well and simply stayed there. It was already too late to return for the evening feast. There really was no reason he needed to be there. Strictly, he wasn't needed anywhere.
The villagers stayed clear, fearing the stranger in their midst. These people would have been another village who had previously lived somewhere in the ice while the dragrs had raged across the land. Now they had come down south and found some land to cultivate. These were not Lily's people, and they spoke in a slightly different language.
Eventually a girl came with a plate of food, leaving it nearby without saying anything. It was a kind gesture and Balder appreciated it. At some point, he could break away and build his own hall in a place like this, but it wasn't a decision he was ready to make. There was joy and comfort in being with family, even if right now, he needed distance for a little while just to gather his thoughts.
He slept in a barn where fresh hay served as his bed. The villagers left him alone, but his horse munched consistently beside him as he woke in the morning to take a seat on the rough wooden bench outside. Perhaps he could be of some service to this village, but he didn't know what they needed. For right now, though, all he wanted was to sit after all the striving to make it seem like everything was fine and perfectly under his control.
The men in this village were simple. Farmers taking care of their families. A handful of families and everyone knew each other. Not too dissimilar from how Asgard had been. His brothers and their families. Until he'd been killed by his own brother. It had all ended through an act of treachery. Hoder had let himself be led by Loki, dec
eived and lied to. It would have destroyed him. Balder would have been destroyed if he had killed one of his own brothers, let alone his twin.
Vali had avenged him, but that had been before Ragnarok. So where was Hoder? He wasn't in Helheim, but then he wouldn't be. As a murderer, he went somewhere else, somewhere deeper and darker, where evil men went. Nastrond.
The thought made Balder shudder. It was Nidhogg's hall, a place of despair and punishment. Evil men were eaten, and it could be that Hoder met his true death through Nidhogg's voracious jaws. Balder hoped so. It was unbearable to think his brother, whom he had loved, had suffered all this time being chained in such a place.
His heart grew even heavier, compounding the guilt he felt. Nothing felt right at the moment. There was no relief from the shadows that seemed to encircle him in every direction. This question he wasn't even sure he could speak to Vali about as Vali had been born to avenge his death. It had been Vali who had slain Hoder.
Day grew to night and Balder returned to the barn he had claimed and slept. He could claim a cottage to be more comfortable, but he didn't feel he deserved comfort at the moment.
But the howl of a hound woke him in the middle of the night and he sat up straight. His horse pranced uncomfortably, which only reinforced that something nasty was moving through the darkness outside. Hel was here.
Chapter 21
AT LEAST IT WAS NIGHT. Hel preferred to come here in the dark. This village was new like all were in the warmer climes. Not everyone had come down from the ice though.
It was also soothing to be away from the young men she had brought to her hall, with all their rowdiness. Taking them had probably been better in theory than in actuality, as she had no intention to pander to their irrationality and neediness. She was not their mother, and she was only their lover when it suited her—which sadly wasn't to the degree she had intended. They were more a nuisance than a distraction.
Balder Page 9
