Baldr, the Norse God of Light, paced in front of his father’s throne.
Odin seemed to have doubled in size on his golden throne; he was intimidating, as his one eye sought to break through Baldr’s lovesickness. Baldr could always tell when something displeased his father. Maybe it was the way he gripped his spear, or the clenching of his jaw. But Baldr also knew the stories which told of how Odin had found love before he’d loved Baldr’s mother, Freyja.
“Baal has said that you and Melqart have an agreement, that both of you have spied upon a certain woman in Carthage, and that you have become a little obsessed with her.”
The gods communicated across worlds, boundaries, and realms, and often worked in tandem.
“A certain woman? I have no idea what you mean,” Baldr said.
“So, there is no woman?”
“That, I have not said. There is a woman, and there is something about her that has stirred something within me. I’ve… I do not seek love for love’s sake. I find her quite appealing, and for this, I am no child to be admonished.”
“You risk us all. You have to be lonely if you are considering such a union. We have all been attracted to women in Midgard, but that does not mean more must come of it.”
Baldr’s heart said something different. He’d visited her in his dreams, and lived a thousand lifetimes with her. But when morning came, she remembered nothing, while he remembered it all. In his mind, those thoughts turned into actions, real moments between them.
They were supposed to be enough. Was it wrong to love her, even if she only knew about him when she dreamed?
“She will never accept us or our ways,” Odin declared. “She is of Earth and not of here.”
“And if I bring her here?”
“Then you will face repercussions. You know of the curse that seeks to be awakened.”
Baldr didn’t know what he felt. Confusion mixed with yearning? He pictured her heart-shaped face, kissable lips, and felt a sense of what could be destiny between them—a dream ready to become a reality.
“True love has been promised to me,” he declared. Thinking of her, his skin took on a reddish hue, and magic permeated the air.
“You were always one to show your emotions. You know the right thing to do.” Odin sighed. “You speak like a weak woman. When it comes to matters of the heart, you should talk to your mother. We gods do not waste time wondering about such things. They are a waste of time and energy. Instead, we need to concentrate on repelling the giants and keeping a tight hold on the Dark Elves. This realm will not always remain peaceful, and Thor must not be the only one willing to lift his hammer to fight back.”
“For you, it always comes down to war,” Baldr said. “You haven’t figured out yet, in all of your wisdom, that war is not the answer to everything, Father, and that peace is something the rest of us desire. You continue to horde, and gather more troops for a prophecy that might never happen. Ragnarok could be a cycle, something that we must overcome. Maybe, in your fear of tomorrow… you are cursing today.”
Baldr was a prince in his own right. Although not as renowned as his brother, Thor, he could read the signs, and he refused to allow his father’s cynicism to ruin his hope for a better future.
He bowed his head and retreated. He needed to speak with Melqart again; if the woman needed help, this time he would intervene.
An existence without love was no existence at all.
Nanna
Carthage, 183 BC
I raced higher toward the top of the temple steps—the highest building in Carthage—with Roman soldiers on my heels. Tossing open the temple doors, I screamed my prayer, “Melqart, save us! And if you can’t, then give me the tools to do it. I’m strong enough, oh, lord of the sea. Everything has led me to this moment, and now it’s time to stand up and fight victoriously.”
War called me. Something within me stirred.
“How far will you go?” a voice whispered in my mind.
“I am part of the great design, just as my father, Hannibal Barca, and his father, Hamilcar Barca, were called. I will answer. Use me!”
I couldn’t breathe. The chokehold of oppression tightened its grip around my neck, and the Roman legion moved in closer. Their steel swords reflected the bright sunlight, and their Latin words, although foreign to my ears, sent shivers down my spine. I clenched my sword until the jeweled pommel’s edge bit into my palm.
A portal formed before me, and out stepped a man, the sight of whom made me stop.
Perfection.
Seeing him, knowledge I did not know I possessed pounded into me. His handsome face seemed familiar, and something within me stirred. It felt as if time had paused and all that existed was him. A part of me wished to fall into his arms and move toward something I’d never known: love.
“There are ways to make an introduction,” I said.
“I am Baldr, and you are in need of assistance,” he said.
I paused. He didn’t need to introduce himself. I recognized him straight away. My stomach tightened. Maybe it was the way his green eyes sparkled, and how I could almost strangely recall the feel of his blonde tendrils between my fingertips. He stood at over six feet tall, athletic in frame, and despite my recognizing him, he was not the deity I’d expected to answer my call.
“We can’t delay much longer,” Baldr said. He held out his hand for me to take.
“What of my people?” I asked.
“I am commissioned to save you, as it is your destiny.”
I realized he offered me a longer life, but at a cost. Surely, as a deity, he could just smite these Roman invaders. Most certainly, he was powerful enough to cleanse this land from their abominations.
Freedom. A spiritual song sung quietly in the chambers of my heart, and
