“Surely, Thor, you just want to get your hammer wet,” Loki said.
“That’s why I bring you along, Loki, to rile me up so I have enough rage to hit something else instead of you.”
Baldr chuckled. His laughter seemed misplaced as the Valkyrie took flight, traveling over the field and choosing who would die and who would live. Then Loki and Thor jumped into the fray. Mjolnir thundered, cracking the ground, and lightning sizzled across the sky. Excitement danced in the air. The passing from one moment to the next moved in slow motion. The three accepted the sacrifices of their followers, fighting alongside them.
“Dear brother, come,” Thor said. “Those who are not of us are on the picking field. Assist our true believers in their battle. Where they win, we win!”
A broad smile crossed Thor’s face and white light glowed from his skin.
With daggers in his hands, Baldr moved through the crowd, extinguishing the enemy with deadly precision.
Today, they’d fill the halls of the realms—the halls of Odin, Thor, and Lady Hel. Passivity drifted away as he went across the killing field.
“Time to show how the gods kill, gentlemen,” he said, and ripped out a scream that caused even the Midgard Serpent to pause as it swam through the Earth.
“Lest dear Father thinks we forget him, let’s get the general. He seems worthy enough,” Baldr declared. Fresh blood dripped from his face, sprayed upon him by one he had just slain.
“You’re just trying to make it so that the All-Father allows you to keep your human bride,” Thor opined.
“Do you think it might work?” Baldr asked.
“Worth a shot. I’ve found his fear is worth using for my benefit.”
“I think you’ve been around me too long if you are using my own words,” Loki said. “What’s always appeased your father is metalwork from the dwarves.”
“I am just releasing my inner warlord.” Baldr beckoned a priestess from the sidelines. He fashioned ropes out of reeds, hung up his sacrifices to Odin, and then crafted magical spears with which he ran them through.
“That’s one way to get Father’s attention,” Thor said.
“Aggressively? He will appreciate my hanging tree.”
Baldr stepped back and stared at his handiwork. His jurisdiction, his justice, his way for reconciliation. He was the God of Light, and mankind would remember him for his ability to inspire love and for his use of a sword.
Nanna
Breidablik—Baldr’s Hall
It felt like days had passed between my fainting and today. Baldr remained away, leaving me to my own devices, and I couldn’t blame him. I awoke to memories of smoke and fire, but couldn’t recall any of the details.
After Ymir’s kiss, as Baldr called it, I could feel something different happening within. Staring in the looking glass, I noticed my once natural dark brown eye color had been replaced by blue with amber rings. It reminded me of fire and ice. I blinked, but it all remained the same. My red hair had begun to turn white; a streak that had not been there before grew ever wider.
But those things were strange minutiae in comparison to the scaly rash that worked its way from my fingertips up my arm, from where I’d touched the cloud of smoke.
It didn’t itch, and the burning had long ago ceased.
A lulling voice began to speak—but not from outside, from within.
“Now is the time to feel the strength you’ve always possessed but have never known,” it said.
Unbidden, my body began to shift. The rash grew to cover not just one arm but two. Scales like that of a lizard’s covered me from head to toe. My back arched and extended, my neck elongated, and my face morphed. Dark wings spouted from my shoulder blades, and a long tail took shape.
In the looking glass, I saw my reflection. I’d changed into the monster I’d once read about in the Epic of Gilgamesh, Humbaba. Instead of hands, I had strong talons; my legs were like that of a lion’s, and sharp horns jutted out of my head. Once walking on two legs, I now stumbled forth, wobbly on four.
A guttural snarl ripped through me, and racing toward a window, I crashed through it, and took flight.
Nanna
Breidablik—the Hall of Baldr
I don’t know how long I’d been away or what had happened during my absence. Once again in my human form, sequestered in my quarters, I continued to read everything that I could find about Asgard.
Then one day two strangers burst into my room.
Their faces didn’t seem familiar, but their auras did, though I couldn’t quite place them.
I felt their malevolence, bitterness, anger—and their intention: pain.
I gripped my dagger between the folds of my dress and moved away from my resting spot.
One of them sent an electric shock toward me, and I crumpled to the floor. Temporarily paralyzed, I stared up at him and his companion. Dirt soiled their clothes and hands, but it must have been a ruse, for they did not have the stench associated with those who could not bathe.
“She used to be a warrior, a shield maiden in her own right. Surely, she can take a punch better than the average man from Midgard. She’ll have you begging for mercy if you get too close.”
“She’ll have me begging for something,” the unnamed minion replied.
I didn’t like the way his eyes grazed over my figure.
“If you hurt me, the gods will avenge me,” I croaked.
He laughed, raised his sword, and beat me on the head with its pommel until I saw stars and darkness began to pull upon me.
“Finish her!” His voice cut through the silence of the night like razor blades across delicate skin. My swollen eyes barely let any light in, the constellations above giving little illumination. Pain radiated through my assaulted, half-dead body.
A groan escaped my bruised lips, and I felt for my dagger. When he came to finish me off, I used the last bit
