“A god does not belong to anyone. Our loyalties can be swayed wherever man utters a prayer. Your father should know that, for that is why he lost his battle against the Romans. He sacrificed for one, but they sacrificed for many.”
“You are responsible for what has transpired there. All of those innocent people were slaughtered and the town razed.”
“Me? I’ve done nothing but listen. Your people are responsible for their own actions. I did not force Hannibal’s hand, and your desire to revolt against the Romans had consequences that even you must pay for. But you caught the attention of another god to save you.”
“But I prayed to you,” Nanna said.
“Yet, you left with him,” Melqart said. “Come now, back to me and all will be forgiven. You can rule by my side, as my Dragon Queen, for I know the beast you carry within requires taming. Hear my voice and come to me.”
“No!” Baldr yelled.
His skin, that had exuded a white light, turned red.
“You wish to fight me for her? Give her to me and save our alliance,” Melqart said.
Odin stepped forward. “It is for the best, dear Baldr. She is not made for this place, and her fate was to die until you saved her. Let her die, let her go.”
He nodded and had his soldiers surround Nanna with their spears. “She can be the sacrifice for her people, so that they may continue to thrive. The fate of death is not so bad.”
But being sacrificed to Melqart meant that she would also be destined to dwell in eternity, according to the rules of the Phoenician religion, and that had no room for the Norse deities in it.
“Baldr,” Nanna called to him.
“I will find you, Nanna!” he yelled.
Thor held him back from moving forward, as Melqart’s men tied her up with ropes of dragonwort, and carried her away.
“You have betrayed me, Father,” Baldr seethed.
“No, you have betrayed us. I have saved us from Ragnarok,” Odin said.
“If you cannot understand the heart, then you have truly been corrupted by the power of ruling.”
“Petulance? That is my reward for saving you?”
“You have saved me from nothing. Instead, you have armed me with a weapon and told me in which direction to point my bow.”
“You are still nothing but a young man. Still growing into your own being. There will be other women. Just look at your brother, even Loki; they have made good choices in their search.”
“I am not a child who needs your guidance or protection.”
“Those are the rantings of a child.”
“She is my destiny, and I will save her.”
“Then you will do so with no help. I will not risk Asgard for a woman who has no place here.”
“You will lose a son because of your fear?”
Baldr shrugged off Thor’s hand and headed away, back toward home, and back toward the armory that contained all of the weapons he needed to free the dragon and rid the world of the pestilence that Melqart had become.
Baldr
Breidablik—the Hall of Baldr
“Do you wish to do this alone?” Thor asked.
Baldr remained quiet and continued to put together his satchel of things he’d need to fight.
“They have sixty-thousand men, and you are taking daggers? You will need more than that,” Thor remarked.
“What is it you wish me to do?” Baldr asked and folded up the satchel.
“Let us be clear: war cleanses, and what has happened must be undone, and Loki agrees, right?” Thor asked, and elbowed Loki in the side.
“Of course, if this is true love—what is the threat of exile?” Loki asked.
“That is the plan then? To save her and then head back to—”
“Don’t tell us. There are nine worlds and enough places for you two to hide. This is rebellion, and the All-Father will not be happy about your usurping his rule. This will start a war.”
“He breathes war,” Loki said. “And you just fight them, Thor.”
“I have seen the beautiful life that I am to have with her,” Baldr began.
Loki squatted down next to Baldr. “You must understand our position. This woman, who you so stark raving love, has not even uttered a word of liking for you. She only called out your name when Melqart sought to take her away.”
“What are you asking of me, Loki?”
“She is nobly born, of Midgard, but is this flower from that garden so lovely that you must pluck it and keep it?”
“I know my heart,” Baldr said.
“Do not confuse him,” Thor declared. “Instead, grab your weapons and let us make haste, for they have surely made better time than us. We know that they have crossed the river over into the land of the giants, and although I’m sure a war with Melqart, and his father, Baal, would be greatly enjoyable, it would be stretching my resources thin to also have to fight the entire giant population.” Thor gripped Mjolnir and flexed his gloved hands around its shortened handle. “Loki,” he continued, “go, scout the area and make sure they are still camped south of the river, then we shall be able to make our attack.”
“Do you remember when we sought to get the largest caldron for the best mead ever?” Loki asked. “That is how this trip is surely going to be. Paramount to our success, we will be working in tandem with each other and remaining silent. Now pay attention, Baldr, there shall be no declaration of love shouted out across the field. You must use your head and not your heart.”
“I will subdue that threat,” Baldr began, “and no one will remember Melqart. Instead, since he has given ear to the Romans, his name will be erased, replaced by the Greek Hercules, and those of Carthage will live freely.”
They made their way to the camp, deep in the dark forests in the land of the giants. Campfires burned, and joviality seemed contagious, as the men chatted, sung, and carried on as if they had no cares.
Almost everyone.
Baldr’s
