Through the Never

by J. A. Culican

  “You must be tired after such a trip. Come. I will show you to your chambers.”

  At that moment, I wished for something familiar instead of foreign.

  “Tomorrow will be a very busy day, and a special guest will visit,” Baldr said.

  I couldn’t recall anyone I might have known who’d be here in Asgard, but my mind was too tired to keep it all straight.

  “You have a splendid home,” I said, finding my manners.

  “No,” he said and took my hands in his, “we do.”

  He seemed to like touching me, which I found odd.

  “Don’t pull away. I know you will need time to adjust to this, to us, and all that it means to become a goddess, but you will.”

  “Whoa,” I said and pulled away. “A what?”

  “A goddess. You will be afforded the same powers as the other gods and goddesses of Asgard, which include the ability to hear the prayers and answer them.”

  What a responsibility!

  “Couldn’t we just do right by all?” I asked.

  “There is much that we still must discuss, but for now, please rest. Tomorrow will be early enough to begin again.” He turned as if to go. “But one thing; should you leave the Hall, remember that you should not go beyond the wall of Asgard. Within it you are safe, but outside, I cannot guarantee that.”

  Inside my room, it was just too much to process. The ceilings were too high, instead of cozy. I could have fit the entire city of Carthage in this place, I feared. I’d lived a high-born life, and was used to the good things, but such opulence as this I’d never seen.

  This felt like exile.

  Nothing was my own, not choices, thoughts nor words. To survive here I’d have to do as they required: leave myself at the door. Yet, in my unkempt clothes, and with my distressed and disheveled appearance, I felt out of place in this room of glamor. I hungered for the outside, to see the stars twinkling. Even if my old life was under a different moon to what I now saw, I refused to give in to the strange feeling inside me, as emotions attempted to break through the wall I’d spent years building up.

  Warriors didn’t cry. They didn’t allow the threat of change to pull them under.

  What could I do to change my world? The faces of the men, women and children, who were surely under siege now by the Roman forces in Carthage, assaulted me. It was worse than hand-to-hand combat. Shadow-boxing my imagination brought me no further, and instead of relief, frustration built.

  I was here, safe and sound, but likely they suffered. How could I enjoy this celestial palace and all that it brought, including the god who undeniably loved me, when they suffered?

  I glanced at his profile, and felt my stomach tighten. He was to be my husband and loved me? A part of me should have been excited about what that meant, but instead unease filled my bones. The more I thought, the more confusion grew. I still knew little of him, and an admission of affection just wasn’t enough to spark love within. I needed to figure this out. Time was on my side, I hoped. Maybe something could grow.

  Love is a garden that requires tending. He’d planted a seed and expected a full-grown crop. Yet, I’d barely germinated. An inkling of what could exist between us was there, but it required watering, good soil to grow and sunlight. Would he let me dance in the light or push me into the shadows once he possessed me?

  I’d seen many arranged marriages over the years whereby the third companion in that relationship was gloom. The women had to submit to their husband’s will, leaving their own power at the door; their own dreams and wants considered worthless because they were women. But Baldr could be different. Uncertainty. It caressed my skin—a part of me wanted him, and enjoyed the thought that he desired me; yet another part of me wished only to awaken from this nightmare.

  If I don’t know what love is, how can I return such rich feelings?

  “If I’m going to be a goddess, then I am going to change things for my people through love and devotion.”

  Tears pricked, and my vision blurred. I wished for nothing more than to be around something familiar. The extremely large room began to close in around me. My thoughts began to muddle. I stepped out of my room and decided to roam the halls. Moving from room to room, I felt something pull at me as if I were on a string. Following the tug, I bypassed the garden and moved to what must be Baldr’s armory. Inside were swords, large axes, bows and arrows, and the air was infused with the scent of heavy oil.

  Picking up two throwing daggers, I padded back towards the garden, and halted before the large tree that stood in its center. The white ash glimmered. With the daggers gripped tightly, I took aim.

  Holding my breath, I released them into the night air, and that is when a heartbeat began to call me.

  Nanna, Breidablik—The Hall of Baldr

  I was seated on the terrace, looking at the morning view when a gentle knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. I’d spent the night in the library I’d stumbled upon, learning everything I could.

  Turning, I recognized the face instantly. Not from having known him, for he’d passed away before my time. But he’d left behind his image on the Carthaginian shekel. My dear grandfather stood across from me, waiting for me to grant him entrance. The proud and heroic Hamilcar Barca, the great Carthaginian general, strolled through the large gold leaf doors, decked out in his gleaming Asgardian armor, his sword sheathed at his side.

  “Granddaughter,” he said. His voice was rich with warmth. Surprise wrinkled my brow, for I’d never thought that being in Asgard would mean that I’d be able to see my ancestors. I could only suppose that my grandfather, like other men of war, had found respite in the great hall of Valhalla—the hall of the heroic dead.

  A feeling foreign to me settled in my chest: luck. Luck of sorts to at least have some family here—even if it meant that Odin had elected to take grandfather from the battlefield all those years ago as he’d sought to expand our territory into Spain. Of course, it had been his insight and forethought during the First Punic War that had helped my father build his strategy in the second. Who knew that elephants and the Alps would be such a great idea?

  “I see that, even after my passing, your father had the sense to continue the family’s training,” my grandfather said. He handed me a bouquet of chamomile flowers. Their aroma calmed and soothed my senses.

  Our family was built for war. We fought hard, to survive, to live, to thrive. It was a part of the very foundation of our existence.

  The flowers’ sweet scent added to the aura of peace that I realized encircled this home, and now I understood. Baldr was the God of Light, and he acted like a sunny day, every day—his cheerful demeanor was a breath of fresh air. Clutching the freshly cut flowers to me, I deeply inhaled. I nodded my head, and placed the bouquet on the table.

  Maybe none should have been surprised when Odin had handpicked grandfather from the battlefield—he’d taken the best generals and leaders, and even had the tendency to make those who were fit to win, somehow end up losing. Rumor had it that this had to do with his fear of Ragnarok. For that simple reason, these brave men, as part of the Einherjar, soldiers who’d fought every day on the battlefield, also died every day, and then went forth to drink mead and be merry in the hall of Valhalla, until they could repeat the cycle once more. Each day they lived, then died. They did so only to be resurrected again and again.

  “You can never be too sure as to how things will happen, how time will behave,” grandfather said. His warning rested behind his serious gaze. “Remember what we taught you.”

  The Barcas always fought against tyranny, every appearance of overt evil, even when the odds were against them.

  “Always expect the unexpected,” I whispered. I’d not forgotten that lesson, and life here in this hall hadn’t changed my fortitude or determination. A warm comfortable bed didn’t erase the past’s scars.

  He reached between his breastplate-and-tunic-covered chest and retrieved a piece of papyrus.

  “I know for me to
see you here, there must be a reason,” I said, and took the offered document.

  Grandfather nodded his head and stared at me for a long minute, watching as my eyes welled, my mouth gaped, and a sob escaped. “I am to marry Baldr immediately? I thought I had time.”

  I fell to my knees as the dismay taunted me. Attraction did not automatically lead to love, and captivity did not bring freedom. Only time would prove if my fate with Baldr would indeed be better than with the Romans.

  “Time is a wish for the foolish,” Grandfather said, “And the one thing there is never enough of.”

  I knew how to fight, but love? The Barcas didn’t teach their warriors how to do that. He turned and walked out, leaving me to deal with the letter’s contents.

  Nanna, Gladsheim—the Asgard Gods’ Meeting Hall

  The news travelled quickly, and before I could adjust to the missive, I found myself quickly dressed in a long, flowing blue robe with intricate indigo knot-work, while ladies-in-waiting, who’d snuck a peek at me, rapidly adorned my long hair with flowers and a silver crown embellished with gems. Conversation churned around me, but I couldn’t speak.

  Today I was to marry.

  I balled up my fist, and my nails bit into my palm. My reflection not one I wished to see. My chest tightened as when word of a siege came from the walls to the city’s center, and it was time to do battle. It felt like death’s calling. Without a sword to protect myself, I could only sacrifice myself for the greater good, and hope that by sealing this fate I could indeed help my people.

  In my mind’s eye, I thought of my mother, and wished only to hear her voice. When I was afraid, as a child, she would bend down on her knee, look me in the eye and say, “No matter what, all will be well. Just believe.”

  I loudly exhaled, sweat beaded on my brow, and my heart thundered like a team of galloping horses. I swayed slightly on my feet.

  “Just believe, Nanna, just believe,” I said, and moved away toward the grand hall, where Baldr stood, waiting.

  My breath hitched seeing him. He practically shone like a bright light.

  “I know that you are there, but your light is blinding,” I said. A smile crossed my lips, and a bit of misplaced joy sprinkled on me. The strangeness of ambivalence goaded me on. I neither knew what I wanted, nor if it was him.

  He placed my hand in his. “It is only because I am exceedingly happy.”

  I gulped, and nodded.

  “You need not be nervous. This is to keep you safe.”

  “Safe, from what?”

  “I know this is overwhelming, and if we had time to make things happen naturally before sharing vows, I would have.”

  “Why?” The more he spoke the more I realized that this situation was akin to a swine painted to look pretty. I thought I had more time. I thought I had more time to figure this all out before a ceremony could begin. It was the only thought that circled. “I’m not sure I can go through with this.”

  “I ask you to trust me, Nanna. I am honorable in my intent.”

  His words rang true. From all of our time together in the realm of dreams, he’d never done anything to hurt me. In fact, our time together had been magical even. I remembered walks along the shore, and laughter, much laughter.

  “I trust you,” I said, and despite my angst, I took his hand.

  With all of the primping and prepping done, we proceeded back to Odin’s hall, where the High Council met. All the thirteen gods and goddesses were present and had I been in my right mind, I might have tried to figure out who they all could be. I only recognized Odin, and Baldr’s mother, Freyja.

  Each step seemed heavier, as if shackles rested around my ankles. My stomach churned. Panic. A shiver raced through my body.

  The room filled with deities and they all stared at me like I was a mosquito, a nuisance even. I had the strange feeling that I was neither liked nor wanted by anyone in the room, except for Baldr, who held me tight as if I might fly away.

  My throat began to constrict; my heart began to thrash against my ribs. Panic ran fingernails along my limbs, and fear gave chase.

  In my head, I focused on my mother’s words of faith and belief. They became my mantra, and I could only hope that they would give me the strength to go through with this. My mind knew what I had to do, but my heart wished to escape, to run away from what could bring me only pain. Love could be its own two-edged sword. Hadn’t I seen that, too, between my mother and father? She’d suffered so much because she loved him. But his first love had been Carthage and not her.

  Baldr wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me to his side. Maybe he’d noticed the slight tremble in my hand, the nervousness in my fingertips.

  I understood now. It was to be a show of partnership, of his claiming me as his; the gods’ agreement to the union meant little to nothing. Unlike in my society, where such touching was frowned upon, especially before marriage, here it seemed as if such a public display of affection was readily acceptable.

  “They’re watching. You should smile,” he whispered in my ear.

  My ears began to ring, and my lungs refused to work. Air neither came in nor went out in the short gulps I took. The room began to spin, and my knees buckled.

  The sound of the gods’ gasps echoed throughout the chamber as I collapsed to the immaculate golden floor, and then their voices broke through my confusion.

  “She is simply too weak for this life here,” Odin exploded. Waves of anger wafted off him and jabbed me like a sea urchin.

  “Give your poor son a chance,” Thor said. “All of us have taken delights with those in other realms.”

  “Since when do we discuss our dalliances?” Freyja said. “We need not speak of those things of the past, but should instead focus on what we should do with this union.”

  “Baldr,” Odin said, “Take her away and let her rest. Maybe once she has her wits about her, she will be willing to start the ceremony that announces your betrothal.”

  “I thought we’d skip right along to the wedding part,” Baldr said. “That way, she is under my protection and a goddess by marriage, right?”

  “Mortals are different. Idunn’s apples might not produce for her the longevity they have for us.”

  “Idunn, the keeper of the apples of immortality, delivers her fruit readily to keep us young, but not immortal. We all can die, just like she can. That is no reason to disallow such a union.”

  Like me, they too could die?

  “It’s been done for the giants, so why not for one from Midgard?” Baldr chastised. “Isn’t there a ready supply of giants in our midst who have been accepted into the pantheon? Why should my beloved not be offered the same?”

  “Take her away,” Odin ordered. “I will not decide her fate today.”

  Baldr swooped me up and carried me away. I heard his boots thud against the floor and the noise around us lessened.

  “You can open your eyes now,” he said.

  I wondered how he knew I was conscious, and batted my lashes at him, biting my cheek in a half-grin.

  “You almost had me going with your swoon. But there was something about it that was a little off.”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

  Instead of putting me down, he continued to carry me. “Was this swooning act your way of rejecting my offer?”

  I bit my lip, torn between the truth and the adoration in those crystal blue eyes.

  “Place me down.” He did and released his hold on me. I quickly missed his warmth.

  “Baldr, we know nothing about each other.”

  “I know everything about you, even how your heart skips a beat when you laugh, how you grip and twist your sword’s handle to ensure it is balanced to your touch, and most of all, that you are afraid to let anyone in.”

  “Those are common things. Things you can pick up from watching me. But you don’t know me, and I don’t know you. This entire place, with all of its grandeur, makes all of the gold in Rome look worthless. Where
shall I fit in between gold pillars, marble floors and immortality? I am a simple woman and unfit for this honor you wish to bestow on me.”

  “Why, Nanna?”

  “That is not my name. I am Annôn,” I whispered.

  “Maybe it is lost in translation, but Nanna means ‘daring one’. You take risks like no other. Even now, you are thinking about your people and how you can help them. This marriage might begin as a marriage of convenience, but I see the future that we could have together.”

  I took a seat on the settee, and watched him leave.

  The room felt empty with him gone.

  He was growing on me.

  Surely some women enjoyed gilded cages. But they made me think of exotic birds with clipped wings imported to wander around prestigious gardens as living adornments, but never knowing true freedom.

  Alone, I closed my eyes and allowed my thoughts to wander. I liked him, but it would take a lot more for me to love. A handsome face wasn’t enough to make me shift my stance. I couldn’t betray my people for him. That would tarnish my family’s name. We fought for our people, and to allow myself to fall in love with him, this Baldr, well, that would make me less than honorable. It would also bring shame to him. What good was a cursed god?

  No, I would not dishonor him, even if I had to sacrifice what might have been good between us. My people needed a savior, and I had to be strong enough to be that savior.

  With my position firm, I allowed my breathing to calm, my body to relax.

  Loud drum beats interrupted my contemplation. It sounded like Roman sentries, seated in their watchtowers, warning of danger. I jumped to my feet, and reached for my sword, which I always wore on my side.

  I’d not dressed myself and my weapon was gone.

  That would not stop me though. I raced toward the sound, down corridors, passing by strangers who surely viewed me as a madwoman as I raced toward the sound of pending doom. The Romans were coming. They’d kill us all.

  This sound had to be coming from a nearby portal. Something that showed what was happening on the other side.