“Hey, that’s not the only reason I’m here,” Thor whispered. “Can we talk freely here?”
“Sure,” I said.
Thor rubbed his beard, looking a little lost. “Listen, uh, Frigg’s not happy about this whole arrangement. Loki’s taking most of the heat, at the moment—”
“Loki?” I asked.
Thor stared at me like I was the biggest idiot in the Realms. “Brother, you do know Loki made the dart that killed you?”
“Oh. I thought it was an accident?”
Thor snorted and reached for a third barrel of mead. “Loki said it was an accident. But you know we all trust him about as far as we can throw him.”
I glanced from my brother’s mead-flushed cheeks to Hel. She looked pale.
“Did you know?” I whispered.
She shook her head, her living eye wide. I took her hand and kissed it.
“Then I suppose I’ll have to thank Loki,” I said, watching her cheek color.
Thor laughed again. “You know, I never did get you, Baldr. You got strange tastes. Strange! But listen, that’s not the message I’ve gotta deliver.”
“Wait, you’re here officially?” I said. “I mean, you’re actually delivering a message from the court of Asgard?”
Thor finished off the last barrel of mead and raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, course. Why the fuck not? You’re not around anymore, Beautiful.”
I brought my hand to my mouth to cover my smile. “Thor the Diplomat,” I managed to say without cracking up.
Thor bowed his head. “Why thank you. And I’m here to tell you Frigg’s pissed as shit, and she’s cutting off all relations with this realm.”
Hel and I stared at each other as Thor devoured the mound of potatoes.
“Niflhel doesn’t have relations with Asgard,” Hel said. “In all my years as Queen, I’ve never once been invited to Óðinn’s council.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” said Thor. “No relations.”
Hel frowned, her brow furrowing. “Fine. We will not attempt to establish diplomatic ties with Asgard. You have my word.”
“And don’t try to start any fights either, because Óðinn’s warriors will mop the floor with your dead cowards. From this point on, Niflhel is an enemy of Asgard.”
“Understood,” Hel said.
Thor smiled, belched, and pushed back from the table. “Good. Good work, all.”
I stood up with him, and Thor pulled me into an embrace. “Brother! Good food here, you know. Mead’s not half bad. You could’ve done worse.”
I grinned. “I know.”
“You two should come up to Asgard sometime. Visit me an’ Sif. The boys’d love it. I tell you, Baldr, you won’t believe how big they’re getting. Strong, too.”
“Didn’t you just say we’re now the enemies of Asgard?” Hel asked, her tone mild and friendly.
Thor frowned. “Oh. Yeah. I meant after, you know. Once all this blows over.”
I clapped him on the back. “Thanks, brother. We’ll keep it in mind. You take care.”
“You too,” he said, turning to Hel. “Listen. You be good to my baby brother, you hear?”
“Of course,” she said, her face as stoic and serious as when she’d sworn not to start a war with Asgard.
I hugged him one more time before he staggered off the porch with Vignis, who was promising she’d taken very good care of his goats and his chariot. And yes, she remembered where they were.
“Well,” Hel muttered under her breath, “that was the single most offensive diplomatic visit I’ve ever had.”
I laughed. “Thor the Diplomat. He’ll learn. I mean, he’s got nowhere to go but up, right?”
Hel raised her eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re actually related to that oaf?”
I pulled her into my arms, kissing her neck. “Oh, my love, you can’t choose your family.”
Family. Shit.
“Loki,” I said.
Hel’s eyes widened. “Where did that come from?”
“Shouldn’t we talk to him?”
“Talk to him? Why?”
“If he’s taking the blame for this, maybe we should offer to help.”
Hel shook her head. “My father doesn’t accept help. From anyone.”
“Well, we could at least tell him we appreciate what he did.”
She frowned. Hel never spoke of her parents, or her childhood, but I got the distinct impression it was not happy. “I don’t know. You really think he’d want to talk to us?”
I shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”
Loki had lived among the Æsir for ages, but he was still a big damn mystery as far as I was concerned. And usually he was an asshole, too.
“But he did do us quite the favor,” I said. “And hey, if we’re being cut off from Asgard, it’s not like it can make matters worse.”
We returned to the subterranean pool that night.
“Father,” Hel said as the torches gleamed orange off the black water of the pool. “I wish to speak with you.”
Her words echoed off the walls. The room fell silent. The inky pool seemed to swallow sound. Hel frowned and shifted on her feet.
“Father,” she said again, louder this time. “I wish to speak with you.”
A small gust of wind filled the room, making the torches flicker and flare. Then that too died down, and the room was again still, silent, and cold.
“That’s odd,” she said. “It’s always worked before.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to be bothered,” I said. “Oh, well. At least we tried.”
Another gust filled the room with frigid air. Waves surged and climbed out of the black pool. The water flashed opalescent, and Loki appeared.
He was hunched over, his face pale and his hair matted. His clothes were ripped and filthy, streaked with something I really hoped was mud. He pulled himself upright when he saw us, sweeping his hair from his eyes.
“Daughter. You called?”
Hel’s mouth gaped open. “Father, are you hurt? Do you need help?”
Loki gave a sharp, hollow laugh. “From you? Are you kidding?”
Hel’s face hardened. I stepped forward.
“Loki,” I said. “We owe your our gratitude. The Æsir can’t have been too pleased.”
He winced. “You could say that.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?” I asked.
Loki waved his hand in the air. “No, no, they’ll get over it. No problems here. Just... no more favors?”
“Of course,” I said. “We only wanted to thank you.”
Loki ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. “Right. Yeah, no problems. And, Baldr...” For a second he looked as though he had more to say, but then he glanced over his shoulder and the moment passed.
“If that’s all, I really should be going,” he said.
Hel nodded stiffly. “Thank you, Father.”
“I’d like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage,” I blurted out. I hadn’t planned to say anything, but suddenly it seemed like the right time.
Loki’s eyes opened wide. “Ah. Interesting. Well, I’d never presume to choose Hel’s husband for her. Ask her yourself, pretty boy.”
My heart did a funny little somersault as I turned to Hel. She held her hand over her open mouth, and her eyes glistened. Her illusion had vanished; I really hoped that was a good sign.
“I’m not trying to take your crown,” I said, falling to my knees on the cold, damp ground. “I don’t want your kingdom. I just want to be more than your consort.”
She nodded. “Baldr, I—”
Loki coughed, and I turned to see him looking over his shoulder again. “Sorry to interrupt, kids, but I’ve got to go.” He gave us a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Make each other happy, okay?”
“Father, wait!”
Hel reached for him as the torches flared, and he vanished. The pool lapped quietly as I came to my feet, brushing off my pants. Hel frowned at the still waters
where her father had just disappeared.
“You okay?” I asked.
She hesitated, pressing her lips together. “We’ve never exactly been close, but...Did my father seem odd to you?”
I laughed as I wrapped my arms around her waist. “Loki’s always odd. There’s a reason he’s called the Lie-smith.”
Her eyes drifted back to the dark pool. I trailed my fingers along the curve of her cheek. “He’s Loki, my love. I’m sure he’ll be just fine. Besides, it’ll be good for the Æsir to solve this one on their own, without Baldr the Babysitter.”
She sighed in my arms. “Yeah. You’re right.”
“And you still haven’t answered my question,” I said, running my hand down her back.
Hel smiled. “So Baldr Óðinnsen wants to be king of Niflhel?”
“No. I want to be your king.”
“You would look very good in a crown,” she said, twining her fingers in my hair.
I snorted. “I don’t care how I look.”
My voice trailed off as I realized how true that was. My appearance was completely irrelevant. For the first time in my existence, I had no agenda to further, no squabbles to smooth over, no role to fill the keep the Nine Realms humming. For better or for worse, I was forever beyond the reach of Óðinn’s rewards and punishments.
I was free.
“Hel,” I asked, meeting her eyes, “do you think you could cast an illusion on me?”
Her forehead furrowed. “What? Why?”
I wrapped my arms around her waist, loving this sudden, mad idea. “So we match, of course! Could you make me look like you?”
“I don’t know. I guess I could try. But, why?”
I laughed. “Because I’m tired of being Baldr the Beautiful, damn it! Let’s begin again, my love. Let me start over as Baldr, just Baldr, humble consort to Queen Hel.”
“Husband,” she whispered, with a smile. “Husband to Queen Hel.”
Did you love Death and Beauty? Then you should read The Trickster's Lover by Samantha MacLeod!
Studying ancient Norse mythology is supposed to be hard, but no one warned Caroline it would be life or death.
Caroline Capello's carefully planned life turns upside-down when Loki, the enigmatic and irresistibly sexy Norse god, appears in her apartment, cuts her clothes off, and rocks her studious world all night long. The next morning, she's convinced she imagined it all, a result of working too hard and getting too little sleep--until she sees her clothes on the floor, cut down the middle.
As Loki's unpredictable visits grow more intense and Caroline is pulled into a dangerous world of gods and magic, she turns to the ancient myths she studies for guidance. But is Loki as cruel and capricious as the stories suggest? Will he start Ragnarök, the apocalyptic final battle destined to destroy the gods and end the Nine Realms?
And does she dare trust him with her heart?
When Loki's appearances stop and Caroline's other-worldly dreams hint at a dark future, concern for her lover leads her to Val-Hall, the ancient home of Óðinn's army, where she must put everything she has learned to the test. If she fails, there's far more than Loki's life at stake.
The end of the world is on the horizon, and only a graduate student with a crush on a god can prevent it.
Read more at Samantha MacLeod’s site.
About the Author
Born and raised in Colorado, Samantha MacLeod has lived in every time zone in the US, and London. She has a bachelor’s degree from Colby College and an M.A. from the University of Chicago; yes, the U. of C. really is where fun comes to die.
Samantha lives with her husband and two small children in the woods of southern Maine. When she’s not shoveling snow or writing steamy sex scenes, Samantha can be found teaching college composition and philosophy to undergraduates who have no idea she leads a double life as an erotica author.
Read more at Samantha MacLeod’s site.
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