Disclaimer: I don't own any POTC characters, only my OCs.
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Chapter 50: Balder
For a few whirling moments, all was dark, blinding, absolute black, curls rushing by as the I fell through the abyss, hurtling to my death-
And then, water engulfed me, grabbing me, ripping through me with icy claws, sharp to the point; it was as if the cold, the bitter horrid cold had completely engulfed me, consumed me, tearing me out of the darkness into its deep, silent belly, my body crashing down into its icy arms, helpless, pathetic. Silence pounded in my ears, the biting cold choking me with bloody claws, gnawing my skin, my bones, tearing me apart. Blackness pressed, all around, slashing against my frozen body; my hands were useless, flailing in the dark, cutting through the frigid waters as my feet struggled to kick up, metal weighing down, ankles dragged down my dead hands, by cold hands. Eyes stung with the bloody cold, burning with ice, my mouth screaming up a silent cry as I clawed up to the surface with every desperate strength-
And crashed through the surface, gasping, wheezing, lungs constricting with the cold, with the rushing air; hands scrabbled up into the darkness as I tasted air again, dank air, my breath so very loud in my ears, heart thundering like a drum, beating in relief. Legs kicked in the dark cold, fighting against the weight, muscles screaming as my body fought to stay above, to stay alive. Lungs heaved with agony, my heart thumping, jumping, adrenaline rushing down those frigid streams of blood; all I could hear was my breath, my harsh, fast breath, howling in my ear, gasping in my ear, water streaming all over my body, cold as hell, icy claws. My tongue had gone completely numb.
I could barely breathe.
Where am I-
Something clanged above.
Still paddling, hands clawing through icy waters, feet kicking sluggishly in the dark, lungs heaving, breath gasping, eyes stinging wide, I gazed upwards, water streaming down my hair in a icy mess; up above, high in the darkness, was a ceiling, a craven rocky ceiling, natural, jagged, light gleaming off the black stalactites hanging like daggers. Serrated patterns climbed down the uneven rocks, smoothing around in sloping walls to both my sides and behind, pillars of stalactites looping about, natural art. Rock gleamed a soft ember; directly above me, through the dark ceiling, blending in the rock but worse, a creeping, edging worse was a tunnel, a downward tunnel, black rock curving along a circular conduit. Stalactites hung around the large mouth of the empty space, like fangs, hovering with the faded light; it was a tunnel, an earthen tunnel, reaching up into a inky black, silence glaring down. There seemed to be no end, no light, nothing, nothing but a gaping mouth, a black belly of some depraved beast, fangs gleaming red. Abyss stretched with no end, dark and haunting, a night sky stretching to endless lengths, a night sky naked of stars and moon; it was tunnel surely, the same tunnel that I had obviously fallen from, a conduit that I had just moments ago hurtled through, helpless and screaming, crashing into icy wet. It all hadn't seem long, probably a few seconds but the tunnel seemed to stretch on and on, the blackness never ending, never faltering, silence stabbing upwards, the water sloshing around me, dripping with icy drops as I stared into the belly of this beast, breath ragged and torn, body frozen away-
Only it wasn't completely dark.
No.
Not completely.
There, up above, in that long, dark tunnel, a flash of silver zapped through the cold, like a bite of steel in my frozen bones, gleaming like a toothy grin, bright like a blaze-
And then, it crashed, smashing into the water, landing with a icy splash, silver gleaming bright with flames as the ripples trembled over the sloshing cold, my hands unconsciously grabbing for it, fingers turned to ice-
And there was my sword, my glowing sword, warm and bright in the grip of my icy fingers; my hand had grabbed it just as it made for the bottom of the black pond, fingers cutting through the icy wet to save it from sinking down. Metal weighed heavily as I held it, feet kicking below, the silver bright point of the gleaming metal sunk into the black waters, wrists straining. Gold gleamed like a trapped sunbeam, the fiery eye of the ruby saluting in greeting, lancing with flames. Etched words leaped from the bright silver blade, water rushing over its smooth face as I pulled it back to my body, fingers numb, nearly dead, grappling with the sword, moving languidly through the ice, my ragged breath slowly freezing in my chest; almost instantly, almost immediately, the heat of the blade began to soar through my blood, warmth surging through my body, kicking like waves. Silver and gold glowed softly, waning the dark with its gentle golden light, but it was the warmth that I most cared about, my body lapping up the cherished heat as it coursed through my body. It screamed a golden warmth, warming my fingers, my hands, my kicking legs, my wheezing chest, like hot chocolate in a blizzard. Fingers sprang to life.
Thank God.
Oh, thank God.
For a moment, I didn't move, paddling in cold silent dark pool, glowing sword clutched to my breast as warmth surged through my veins, breath sighing in content. Feet kicked beneath, thrusting in icy cold, the warmth of the blade running down my calves, springing goose bumps, charging them with strength as I mindlessly kicked in the deep, breath sighing, letting the heat, the golden warmth envelop me, take me away-
It was then I heard the music.
Up above, the tunnel gaped silent, an abyss of darkness and quiet, droplets of water dripping down the stalactites in eerie, lonely trickles, hollow in this weird dark place, this rocky cave, water sloshing near my ears as I paddled and kicked, staying afloat-
While music played a soft tune.
A beautiful tune.
Where am I?
With a swill of cold water and with the sword still hanging heavily in my warmed grip, I turned around, kicking mildly through the icy gloom, ears straining to hear the far away tune; all around me, the dark pool was silent, stretching out evenly on all sides, pure inky black. Water swelled and crinkled with my mere paddles, ripples cascading across the unholy darkness, little black waves crashing against ragged rock all around; to the sides, the walls sloped gently upward, towards the gaping tunnel, jagged rock climbing, stalactites hovering. Dark rock closed in behind me as well, the black water so very deep, so very dark, a wall of black closing behind like a gate, a barrier, preventing me from going anywhere, preventing me from escaping. Stalactites hung precariously, the ember light gleaming along their edges, icy water dripping like thick black blood; before me, the pool stretched about a meter or so, black depth stirring with the gentle ripples. Little waves, black swelling waves, crashed against torn rock, lapping like the tongues of ruined monsters on the black wall-
Only it wasn't a black wall.
No.
Not a black wall.
Before me, at the head of this black pool, was a ridge, a shallow cliff rising up from the black ripples, dusty and dark. It was a ledge, a shelf, a flat surface tearing out of the inky ice, ending with jagged cuts; above it was a landing, a flat road stretching out into the darkness. There was no wall, but an open space, a cavern opening up at the head of this pool. Waters licked at the feet of the jagged beach, light cropping the inky ripples; it was a cavern, indeed, a small cavern, a grotto, the walls of the dark pool sliding forward to fence this tiny little enclave. Harsh rock climbed over, doming over the silent pool to carve out a little passage before me, neat and simple, clearly man-made. Stalactites still hung, the dark ceilings of the enclave lower then the one above me, a smooth flat rock stretching about a meter or so, rocky daggers hanging like teeth. Water dripped, slow and thick.
Hollow.
Music laughed, a dim dream.
Beautiful music.
Where am I?
It was only about a meter wide, large enough for one person, a short passage carved into the side of this rocky cavern, this cave; up above, at the rear of this passage, gleaming down like watching eye, not too far from the mouth of the tunnel, was a torch of flames, a soft flickering fire burning hot up against the ceilings. It was a bright orange, a brilliant orange, torching against the rocky ceiling as it cracked and popped, wavering its ember shadows all about the dim cavern, snapping and licking, laughing manically. A black metal holster held it up, cradled it, bolted to the wall tight with dark screws as its metal torched with the leaping flames, an ancient torch flickering with life. Shadows leaped about, dancing in its radiant mirth; it barely lighted up the dripping pool and the black walls buts its cheery glow crested along the short passage before me, lighting it up with ember shadows. Gloom wavered upon that dusty trail, lighting the way towards-
Towards the door.
Where am I?
There, at the end of the short passage, shadows dancing at its feet, watching with silent dark eyes was a door, a dark door, an ancient door stretching from floor to ceiling. Icy water prickled the back of the neck; it was wooden, completely wooden, a large door stretching up and down, side to side, fitting into the rocky cave as if it had always been there, a part of the torn rocks. Wood curved at the top, sharpening at an angle, shadows leaping about its serrated boards; it was of a dark wood, mahogany, the harsh dark divided in the centre by a thick black line, a dual door. Metal nails, giant and black, about the size of my palm, gleamed dark ember, studded across the door in two horizontal lines, a pattern from ancient times. Black bolts bordered the wood on either side, clamped down against the dark rock, rusty and old, light laughing; instead of the doorknobs I was so used to, this door, this strange, ancient door had two large rings near its middle, metallic rings, heavy against the wood. They flashed dully in the gloom, the light of the nearby fire casting them in a shady ember, still and quiet, calling me forth. Rock dust coated the old wood.
Music sang, soft as a whisper.
"Fucking magic."
In the hollow of this small cave, this dark cave, the passage and door staring down at me, my voice was an echo, bouncing off the walls, loud and clear; but the music was soft, unbelievably soft, like a whisper of a dream, murmuring through the dark cave. Notes echoed across the rippling dark, shivering up the black walls, whispering through the gaping tunnel, swirling like a fog; it was a melody, a simple, single melody, a strange song barely discernible in the glooming quiet, muffled, stifled, muted as if the music was coming from the walls, the rock whispering a soft tune. It was too hushed to tell if it was a voice or an instrument, the tune too subdued to make out, too trapped, too lost, a dismembered voice floating among the ragged rocks and black waves, a strange melody I just couldn't quite place-
Except that it was beautiful.
Yes.
That much I could tell.
Definitely beautiful.
Where am I?
With a long deep sigh and with ears still pricked up against the music, I began to paddle forward, to shore, to the ledge that led to the passage, the door, hands gripping the warm sword to my heart; it was still a little cold but my feet kicked hard, surging through the icy still, my free hand clawing through the frigid black, warmth dancing in my veins. Cold water stung against my warmth skin as I swam sluggishly, keeping my head above the icy black, sword burning warm against my chest; the water tasted sweet, a clear, clean sweet rolling icy over my warmed tongue, burning against my lips, my eyes. Heat sunk thick, through my bones.
Heart hammered like a fiery drum.
Music sang sweet.
Music in a dark, deserted cave.
Where the hell am I?
With a final push, I reached the ledge and with my grappling warmed free hand, I pulled myself up, fingers digging moist into dusty black, arms burning with effort. Muscles screamed red-hot as I heaved up onto the dusty shelf, panting warm, blobs of icy water dripping down onto the dark dust, thick and black. Water streamed down my skin as I climbed up, rivers of rushing cold, the burning sword thrown before me as I crawled, water gagging my throat. Drenched hair hung behind like thick rope, pulling back my scalp, my head pounding as the warmth surged in my skin, fingers digging into the coarse sands. Firelight leaped about the shadows, wet choking cold.
My sword glimmered like a golden star.
My neck hurt.
With clawed hands, I slowly pulled myself up, away from the water, away from the freezing pool, warmth coursing through my veins, muscles burning with each stretch; light flickered, roaring against the cavern roof as I stumbled up, knees aching, eyes staring ahead at the rocky walls, at the door. Shivers peaked here and there, the warmth chasing them away, my fingers sleeking over the glowing sword as I picked it up again, holding it in my right hand, water dripping down my skin. Heart boomed, pumping flames.
The sword trembled gold.
Where am I?
Before me, the passage dragged forth, the door sitting in the end, watching me with silent eyes, the dual metal rings gleaming a dark black, shadows dancing; stretching forth, the cave walls were rigid, dark, shouldering the door on both sides with uneven jolts, the floor the familiar black dustiness of the volcanic crag where it all had happened, where the lava had been, where I had fought that Rygor-
Wait.
Wait.
Was that where I was?
Was I still on that black crag?
Was I somewhere underneath it now?
Was I now under the crag, in its deep black bowels?
Was this some cave in the black mountain, some underground cave, some lava cave even though I wasn't even sure there was ever any lava to begin with?
Was this a cave?
Was this an underground cave?
I had touched the Enfal Tree with its golden words…
And fell through the earth?
Is that what had happened?
Had I, by some sorcery, fallen through wood and rock and earth?
Was that tunnel that I fallen through a passage up to the Enfal Tree?
To freedom?
Was-
No.
Enough questions.
Enough thinking.
Now is not the time for thinking.
Now is not the time for standing still.
No.
No.
With a quaver of my head, I shook away the questions, the theories, and skulk on, lifting foot by foot, boots crunching wet on the black dust, fire cracking above, the hollow sound of water dripping off the rocky ceiling echoing through the black cave, beating to the sound of the strange music. Walls closed in on each sides, brushing against my shoulder as I inched forward, dust munching, water creeping along my skin, streaming down like rain; rough rock munched at my bare shoulders as I passed along, the narrow rock passage dancing with the shadows of the popping torch, a parade of black and ember. Before me, the door stood silent, watching, glaring, dark metal trembling with the soft glow of my sword as I crawled forward, breathing in the dank air, sucking it in, inhaling and exhaling, breathing for my life. Each step sounded like explosions blasting through the dusty earth.
Water dripped through the soulless dark.
Music hummed like a far-away breeze.
Fire laughed.
Where the fuck am I?
With one last creeping step, I finally reached the large door, staring up at its pointed arch, glaring back at the dull metal nails. The golden glow of my sword beamed against the dark ancient wood, elegant, nimble, bright, the ruby casting up a warning cry, leaping a bloody red; with a soft inhale of the cold, clammy air, I leaned forward and placed a wet ear against the harsh wood, cold slicing through the warmed skin, curls dripping wet. Sword leaned against the door as well, bright like a sun, arms tensed tight as they held the blade upright, muscles rolling wet; with a quick fervid nervous look down the short passage to the silent ink pool, I tilted my ear against the old, holding back my body, fearing any noise, senses alert.
Listened.
Hard.
What-
And there, beyond the hard wood, beyond the thick ancient door, music sang, sweet and pure, a strange instrument lilting a dainty tune, notes jumping with bliss, with joy. Melody sprang and danced, a light, sweet tune flowing through the cracks of wood, laughing through the door; it was a charming sound, a beautiful sound, a delightful whistling sound prancing about cherry cadences, in trilling rhythm. It sounded so light, so very light, like something out of the rushing rivers and green woods, dancing rays of sunlight twirling about in a simple song, flowers fresh, flowers wild, a wonderful melody so in contrast with the dark cave and its silent black pool. Notes leaped wild, and for a moment, for just a brief moment, I could smell those radiant flowers, those flowing streams of wild water, those laughing green tress standing tall and proud, those whispering falling leaves like trailing snow on a spring day, those playing, dashing animals leaping through the shrubbery, that sweet soaring sun beaming light into the world-
And then, just like that, it was gone, the darkness pulling back in, the cold wrapping again, the glorious forest, the sweet nature, tearing away to the cold, dark cave once more, water dripping an echo in the dark. Fires flickered behind, cracking against the leering stalactites; before me, the sword merged back into sight, glowing against the ancient wood, the tune, the strange beautiful tune still singing beyond the door, beyond the lonely cave. Warmth danced in my veins.
Icy water crawled down my back.
Eyes blinked, wet and slow.
I swallowed raw.
Fuck this.
And with that, I opened the door.
Light burst forth, golden light, washing through the dark and blinding me momentarily, catching me off guard as I swung back the ancient wood, metal hinges moaning like weathered bones. Cool metal burned against my warmth skin as I squinted my eyes, my senses rapidly adjusting to the burst of light, fingers gripping the sword, arms tensed and ready; before me, the light slowly faded, my eyes pulling back, adjusting. Lashes blinked, wincing, the light washing down as I slowly adapted to the change in brightness, the scene opening up before my eyes like the turn of a page; before me, beyond the wincing brightness and creaking wooden door was a small round cave, a grotto bright with golden light. It was a perfect circle, a flawless circle, walls sleek and smooth, rock a brilliant, glowing gold. There were no jagged thorns, no broken ledges, smooth golden rock climbing up from sandy dust to even ceiling without a dent, a perfect carving of gleaming gold; it wasn't actual gold though, that I could see even through the beaming blaze, not the actual precious metal lining the walls. No, it was rock, bright, glowing, golden-hued rock, trembling with a strange rich light that seemed to infuse the entire cavern. Golden dust littered the smooth floor, the ceiling above glowing translucent, bright in the dark, dark world. Everything was radiant, bright, shining, a small cave of glowing gold walls, a haven in the gloomy dark; everything beamed, everything glimmered, a beautiful soft gold emanating throughout the entire smooth cavern, a dream of liquid gold. It was as if someone had captured the glow of the sun and trapped it in the room, light laughing, trilling a brilliant gold; the only thing that stuck out were the stalactites in the centre of the ceiling, hanging a deep, thick black, like roots of a black tree. Music lilted like a golden melody.
A hand rubbed at my eyes, creasing out the wincing brightness.
A gasp squeezed at my chest.
Ok.
Seriously.
Where the hell am I?
At the back of the cave, of the glowing golden cave, an underground stream ran, thick and pure, gurgling water across the back of the cavern, a straight line, wall to wall. It ran from left to right, emerging out of the bottom of the golden wall and coursing across the gold dust to a gaping hole in the opposite wall, black and deep, as wide as the width of a man. Water gurgled throughout the room, laughing like nymphs, its giggling hum matching with the sweet music, fitting with it perfectly. Froth danced gold in the light of the cave.
The air smelt of sweet water.
My heart danced a little jig.
I give up.
In the middle of the rocky room, the golden cave, were two bars of standing stone, outcropping rocks, short ledges, sticking out of the bright floor, glowing a pale, weak gold. They had to be only about the height of my waist, each identical, carved smooth and perfect, man-made forgings out of gleaming golden rock; they were long, extremely long, stretching across the room on either side, mirroring each other, perfect copies. Rock had been carved on each side into smiles, two smiles, the both ends of a circle morphed into the golden rock, staring at each other. Between them was nothing more but the golden dust, the black stalactites directly above, the two odd-carved rocks coming together to form an incomplete circle; there were two gaps in this strange formation, complete opposite, on facing the door, one facing the stream. Indeed, it was a circle, a large, incomplete circle standing out in the middle of the room, twin benches encircling an empty golden space, music laughing through the dank air-
It was then that I saw him.
Him.
There, lying flat on his back on the right golden arch, staring up at the gleaming ceiling was a man, a big man, a tanned man, lying back lazily, sprawled like a child. Cold bare feet pointed up to smooth bright rock, large swat toes, heels kicking up idly in time with the music, drumming against the golden rock with rhythm; black pants cut off the edges of his bronze ankles, dark, dusty black pants, dull and odd in the brightness of the room, flapping as his legs rocked sluggishly, giving into the trilling song. Up above, his chest was bare, completely bare, bronze skin creeping raw in the glow of the gold, muscles rolling with complete indolent; it was fine torso, I had to admit, a wide chest rippling with hard packs of muscles, the skin tinted gold in the bright of the room. He wasn't overly tanned, like those silly girls of silly magazines, but a luscious tan, an even tan, a natural hue like the sands of a desert. Large arms rolled with steaming biceps, chest swelling up and down with each crinkling breath, large elbows sticking at the sides, his stomach as flat as plains. Neck stretched lazily, muscles creaking languidly, music singing ever so sweet; there, at the top of his head, at the top of his body, was a mess of golden curls, messy curls, long strings of blonde hanging bright in the golden wash of the cavern. I couldn't see his face, so thick was his hair, a chaotic mess of long curls straying across the gleaming rock, fine as thread. It was nothing more then a muddle of tangled gold.
Of dancing gold.
It was a pretty head though, fine curls, lovely curls, strands of gleaming gold stretching down to the neck, tousling languidly with each drumming heel; sticking straight up from that mess of golden curls, stark in the golden light, was a flute, a wooden flute, poking up to the ceiling, lilting with the sweet music. Slim fingers ran over the polished wood, silver and gold filigree dancing bright about the slim instrument, perfect black holes gaping, whistling with tune; it was from this strange little flute that the beautiful music had been coming from, the sweet song singing out of its tiny holes, the light, skipping melody prancing out of the tiny wood. It was no bigger then 20 centimetres, but the music was pure, loud, bright and cheerful, so very nimble, so very gay in the small cavern, singing high above the rushing stream. Fingers rushed over the dark holes, fashioning sweet, jolly notes, the tune so succulent, so merry, a dance of elves in an underground cave. Golden etchings spun tales of trees and flowers on ancient wood.
Music laughed.
Heart screamed.
Balder.
I don't know how I knew it, how I was so sure of it; I just was, my eyes straying across those kicking feet, those rolling muscles, those laughing golden curls and that sweet flute, that ancient flute, my mind registering, transmitting, staring without thought.
Trying to understand.
After all, who else could it be?
Who else?
Circe had said that Balder laid under the Enfal Tree, that his grave was beneath its rocky roots.
Circe had said that Balder was alive.
That he was here.
That he could bring Will back.
But could it be?
Really?
Was this Balder?
Was this really Balder?
The sword burned in my hand.
"Balder?"
With sleek flick, the strange man, the hidden man, raised a single finger, bronze in the light, calling the universal signal for "one more minute please", and then dived down into the twirling music again, fingers rushing over the dark wood, singing a tune, so rich, so beautiful. Notes after notes charmed across the golden cavern, singing sweet, the tender voice of the flute ringing, echoing, laughing with the gurgling of the stream, dancing with the flicking drops. Behind me, the door slowly shifted close, creaking and moaning, scraping shut, pushing away the sounds of dripping water and popping flames, leaving me with the swirling music, the skipping tune. Harmony sang from the rushing streams, the melody bouncing, prancing and once again, one more time, I fell into that dream, that dream of whistling trees, of laughing blue rivers, of bees buzzing around tender white daisies, of deers prancing about the pure trees, of wind rushing by, pulling at curls, of nymphs dancing among the red roses, of bird singing into the wild bushes-
And then, just as before, the vision died, the dream died; only now, instead of dying, falling into the abyss, the dream ended in a laughing tune, the sweet song finally finished. Golden walls climbed back into the world as I blinked my eyes, waking from the dream, from the other world, mind shaking away the fog; before me, the cavern opened again, glowing bright, glowing gold, water sloshing a singing tune. Black stalactites hung wry, twisted like roots.
There was no more music.
With a loud exhale of the moist air, I looked up, towards the two arching benches of rock, towards the man with golden hair; with a knock of his heels, the man sprang up, jumping to his feet, back glistening with golden sweat as his hair churned bright fair, springing down to his shoulders, pale in the light. Curls skipped and laughed, brushing against the bare skin of his broad shoulders as he moved the flute down, away from his lips, the new silence choking like a mist. Gleaming muscles rolled as he slowly pivoted on his heels, flaxen curls dancing, the flute weighing lightly in his hand as he turned around and faced me, showing me his face for the very first time. Curls licked against sandy skin.
I gasped.
Before me, standing tall and proud, bare-chested and tanned, almost bare, was probably the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my entire life.
No.
Scratch that.
He was the most beautiful thing….ever.
The most magnificent thing.
Jesus….
He was tall, quite tall, a large man standing inches over 6 feet, a gargantuan giant of blonde and bronze, a myth, a legend, a statue of old; there seemed to be nothing taller then him, nothing at all, his long legs covered by the dusty black pants, his bare chest long and wide, a chest of a giant. Shoulders pushed, broad and thick, arms hanging strong, his head the perfect size for his otherworldly body, his delicious body. There seemed to be no flaws at all, none at all, muscles perfect, skin perfect, a creature from another world, a creature from my dreams; up above, the long lanky curls danced bright gold, precious, fair curls licking against the harshness of his jaw, his dusky jaw. Flaxen curls gleamed like real gold, bobbing upon his broad shoulders, glimmering with the strange light against his thick neck, his body rippling with such muscles, with such strength, a perfect being, a perfect man-
It was his face, though, that nearly tripped me over.
His gorgeous face.
Among the curls, among the fair curls shivering like golden threads, beautiful fine threads teeming on large shoulders, was his face, his angular face, his perfect face, his skin a dusky bronze, like that of summer beaches. Jaw stuck round and tough, dark like sand, strong and muscular; stubbles, dark, dotting stubbles crept up his fine jaw, rough and uneven, darkening his countenance, wearying him, an unshaven chin kissing against golden curls. Up above, his nose was slender, sharp but slender, his cheekbones rising on either side like dunes of a desert, large and strong in the dusk of his face. Skin spread wide, even, flawless, not a blemish in sight, not a wrinkle in wear. Dark lashes, dark black, kissed against those dune-like cheeks, those screaming cheekbones, dancing upon their edges, tip-toeing a jig. Eyelids barely moved, forehead broad and strong, forefront of a great mind; below, among those flaxen curls, those twisting golds, were a pair of piercing, bright blue eyes, shocking, brilliant, beautiful sapphires set into his already-beautiful face. They were not stormy, like Jared's, or pale like Lestrade; no, they were alive, kicking alive, racing with laughter and humour and just about every good fun in the world. Joy sprang in those cerulean orbs, leaping, dancing joy, a pair of wondrous pools like the leaping waves of an ocean, gold licking like sun cresting on summer froth's. Cheer ran free, unleashed, uncontrolled, the two glistening orbs of azure staring at me without a care, so untroubled, so happy, so alive and so very free. Lips pulled taut, thick and full.
I nearly gagged.
God…
For a fraction of a moment, I just stood there, staring at this man, this beautiful man, this unbelievable man, his eyes stabbing bright blue, jewels gleaming bright in the golden light, his gorgeous chest heaving up and down, wooden flute clutched in his hand, my breath frozen as the sword trembled in my hand, burning against my skin-
"Did you bring any bananas?"
There was nothing melodic about his voice.
Nothing sweet.
Nothing pure.
Unlike the music he had created, the sweet playing of the flute, the lilting melody his fingers, his breath had spun out of the air, his voice was…was….
Ordinary.
Completely ordinary.
It was a voice of a normal man, an ordinary man, no skipping undertones, no weird visions, no odd magical touch separating him from the ordinary human being; it wasn't like Circe's spring-like voice, nothing like her dancing voice, just a plain, common voice of a man, echoing throughout the grotto, smirking over the crashing waters. It wasn't too low, nor was it too high, resounding firmly to the golden ceiling, lines tight, a strange, impending seriousness; there was a slight accent, though, an odd tone, his voice sliding between a light English accent and a Frenchman's lilt. I couldn't place it, couldn't pinpoint it, his tone, his accent something I never heard before, something I wasn't a touch familiar with. His 'r' rolled a little.
My brain churned.
Could this be?
Could it-
No.
No, he can't.
He's too ordinary.
I mean, he sounds too ordinary.
He looks amazing, but his voice…
Circe's voice was strange, and she was a demi-god.
He's wasn't.
He wasn't.
He can't be.
He can't.
Can he?
Is he-
"Did you hear me?" His voice, his ordinary, firm voice brought me back to reality, snapping me out of my reverie as I gripped the sword tightly again, blade hovering warm in front of me, stream frothing, whispering in the back; before me, the stranger stood, tall and proud, a thin fair eyebrow arching high up into the messy golden curls, his lips parted slightly, gold light dancing about the sandy skin. Blue eyes stared unnervingly, never blinking, bright pools of deep azure so alive, so bright, vibrant and vivacious, laughing like a river. Sweat glimmered all about his golden bare chest.
I blinked my eyes stupidly, heart racing.
My voice was a squeak.
"What?"
"Bananas," he repeated, accent thick and strong, nodding his head slightly as he stared over at me, blue fire dancing in his bright eyes, "You know, yellow fruits, about wee long? Tasteless skin, but the meat's all good, sweet and thick; the typical monkey's favourite too, I reckon-"
"Wait, I don't under-"
"You're telling me you didn't bring any bananas?"
For a moment, I just stood there, staring at him, waiting for him to smile, to laugh, to shake it all away as nothing more then a joke; but the tall man just stood there, staring down at me, blue eyes wide and excited with question, nodding in anticipation. Golden curls frayed, his chin strong, his handsome face pushed forward, waiting keenly for an answer, as if the question itself had been so important, so utterly serious in a time like this. Awe slowly faded away from my mind, wiped clean, incredulity creeping over as I stared up at this strange man, at this tall beautiful man.
He was still waiting for an answer.
I cleared my throat.
"Wait," I said, more clearly now, my voice filling out the golden grotto as I stared up at the golden stranger, at his dusky face and eager eyes, lips parted, willing, "You're serious?"
"Of course, I'm serious. Why wouldn't I be serious? Why wouldn't anyone be serious about bananas?"
"B-Bananas?"
"Yes, bananas. What am I, talking gibberish?"
He waved his hands as he spoke, his large hands, slims fingers flapping through the golden air as he talked, his blue eyes wide with impatience, an excitable energy seeming to bounce about with his every word, his ordinary accented voice speaking rapidly, shooting like automatic fire. My first impression of him, of golden magnificence, of quiet beauty, quickly brushed away, falling like autumn leaves, his long golden curls and bronze skin doing nothing to smite the growing energy in his voice, in his dancing eyes. Each word passed, flashing by, buzzing with life.
Fingers clutched to wooden flute.
Fingers clutched to glowing sword.
Eyebrows arched deep.
What on earth?
"Why would I have bananas?"
"Because I'm hungry? "He exclaimed out loud, voice rich, voice strong, echoing about the small golden cave, eyebrows leaping up to his golden hairline, nodding his head at me as he stared over with an incredulous look, as if he couldn't believe what I had just said. Flaxen curls licked and kissed as he nodded like a child, blue eyes wide, leaping flames, his broad chest rolling with muscles as he shrugged, a somewhat childish demeanour for his glorious being. His 'r' rolled again, strong and firm.
He sounded like a child.
A pathetic child.
Fingers slipped against glowing gold.
Silver beamed like a star.
Bewilderment burned.
What the fuck?
My voice was still a question.
"H-Hungry?"
"Yes, hungry," he sounded impatient now, wide, disbelieving blues squinting down to pure impatience, frothing with energy, a single hand reaching up to swipe at his fair locks, slim bronze fingers running through golden plains, his lips downturned as he glared over at me, eyebrows soaring, "Bloody hungry, actually, seeing as I haven't eaten in 2000 years- but hey, what does that matter to a simple immortal, eh? 2000 years is nothing to me, right? Sand and water can feed me, no need for sweet, sweet bananas-"
"I-"
"-or anything, now that we talking about it; yes, you probably left the home thinkin' to yourself, 'Eh, don't need to get good ol' Balder anything, seeing as he is a god, and gods never need anything'. Ah, yes, no need for food, no need for water, just leave me, buried alive, starving to death-"
"Wait, I-"
"- but then again, gods can't really die, so I suppose you're save there too. After all, what is a banana to me, right? What is a sweet, juicy banana to a god trapped under a giant mountain and a bloody dragon for 4 millenniums with no entertainment, no company and no food at all right? I mean, what is a banana to a mere lowly god-"
"OH, WOULD YOU SHUT UP?"
It was an echo, a loud, resounding echo, my voice bouncing off the golden walls, leaping up to the fair ceiling, screaming over the rushing stream and cutting off the endless chatter of the tall man, frustration and annoyance biting into every word, surging with fuming exasperation. Voice tore, rapid and wild, heart racing with infuriation as my words echoed about the golden enclave, teeth gritting together unconsciously. Before me, the tall blonde man's lips hung open, stunned in silence-
And then, with the flash of wild blue eyes, he smirked, crooking the corner of his lips and lighting up his dusky face with a mischievous glow. Blue eyes sprang to life, flaring like an azure flame, the keening eagerness mixed about with the churning of something impish, something playful, casting his fine features in a roguish tint. Indeed, there was always something roguish about him, something childish, something naughty, something wild and loose prancing about his sapphire eyes, eyes so young, so feral; his crook just made him devilishly handsome, wrinkles creasing around those fine lips, a sliver of white teeth gleaming porcelain beneath the darkened skin. Laugh lines creased along sandy dunes.
He obviously found something funny.
And it infuriated me.
"Nasty temper we have, now don't we?"
"I'm sorry," I spat, with more vehemence than I anticipated, frustration roiling beneath my skin as I stared up at that smirk, that arrogant, handsome smirk, fingers tight around the golden hilt, "Did I offend you?"
"A little, yeah," the man nodded, eyes wide, smirk dropping as he adopted a more casual grin, golden curls bobbing, his feet slowly bobbing as the sweat glistened gold on his firm chest, his arms rocking back and forth in a childish swing, flute dancing silver and brown, "You see, bananas-"
"Right, bananas. I forgot. Sorry, really sorry; you see, amidst all the sirens and pirates and daemons and the ghost ships and the witches and the dragons, it must have slipped my mind."
His smile just widened.
Sword burned.
"You're a sarcastic one, now aren't you?"
I wanted to punch him.
"Are you Balder or not?"
"Well that depends, now doesn't it?"
His smirk was infuriating, an impish sliver on his bronze face.
Golden locks danced, giggling with amusement.
Blue eyes laughed.
I tried not to sigh.
"Depends on what?"
"On where you are from, really," his 'r' rolled again as just smirked at me, his grin fitting his large face, chest glistening, curls dancing, arms swinging back and forth as he stared over me with obvious amusement, as if he was a child that had just stumbled upon a new toy, his heels drumming together as if he were Dorothy, wishing away on red shoes, "I have many names, you see, several in fact; some used to call me Apollo, others Horus. Balder is not the most common, but it is the definitely the one I prefer. Jesus too, if you will, though I think I was more of an inspiration than the actual thing-"
"Jesus-"
"- though, of course, there was probably a guy called Jesus, seeing as Jesus was way after my time; though you have to admit, the similarities between that story and my story is somewhat familiar, from what I have heard through the rock anyway-"
"Wait, heard through the rock-"
"Whispers, darling, whispers; I'm a god, remember? I'm hypersensitive. I may have spent the last 4000 years trapped under this rock, blind to the world, but that does not mean I can listen in now and again; and might I say what a mess you mortals have made of things! Seriously! What on earth were you people thinking with that Crusade thing? 200 years of war? Now, who in the blasted world would want that, excluding Vulcan of course, but that's another thing all together-"
"Do you ever shut up?" I asked, sighing in exasperation, staring at the man as he fidgeted like a child, the flute swinging in his tight grip, his dusky grin even more gold in the strange light, heels drumming, lips smirking as he had chattered on and on, my last sentence dropping the axe. Black stalactites hung, deep and long, awkward elements just above his head, his plain but firm accented voice echoing across the grotto. Water rushed behind, frothing, gurgling, golden curls shivering against sandy plains.
Sword beamed bright.
I sighed.
"No, not particularly."
"Of course not."
"Silence is the gift for the old."
"You're over 4000 years old."
"Mere numbers."
For a moment, I just stared at him, silent, numb, staring up at his cheeky blue eyes, at his mischievous grin, at his broad gleaming shoulders and swinging arms, obviously enjoying every single moment, blue eyes soaring bright; silence pounded, pulsing, beating like a drum, screaming up to the golden ceiling. Water surged, echoing with gurgles.
Golden curls mocked with laughter.
I couldn't speak.
Fuck this.
I threw the sword to the ground.
"I give up."
"No, you don't."
"Yes, I do," I nodded, slowly, staring up at him, at his beaming eyes, at his smirking lips, wanting to punch him, wanting to punch something, dust sifting at my feet around the fallen sword, metal glowing the same gold as the scattered sands, "I mean it. I give up."
"Now, why would you be doing that-"
"Because I'm tired. I'm exhausted. You have no idea what I have been through this past 2 months-"
"On the contrary," he smiled, easily so, eyes laughing, humour snickering, watching me like a science experiment, heels teetering about in fidgety excitement, face washing with pure energy, as it had always been, "I know exactly what you've been through. Pirates. My sword. More pirates. Metus. Even more pirates. Rygor-"
"You missed out the sirens."
"Sirens?" his smirk dropped away to a pondering pout, lips trapping together in a playful sort of bewildered sulk, as if he was genuinely thinking, as if he actually cared, dancing blue eyes clearing slightly as he pondered away into the distance, staring beyond me, golden curls shivering as he cocked his head to the side, "What on earth were you doing with sirens?"
I didn't answer.
For a moment, for the tiniest of moments, there was no sound, no voices, no movement whatsoever except for the gurgling stream far away, far behind.
No footsteps.
No words.
Nothing .
Nada.
Silence.
I couldn't recognise my voice.
"Tell me, once and for all. Are you Balder?"
It didn't take more then a second for the man to answer, nodding quickly, smiling again.
"Aye."
I could barely breathe.
"Did you bring me here?"
One nod.
"Yes."
"Am I your heir?"
Another nod.
"Yes."
"Is this your sword?"
A flashing grin.
"Aye."
"Was it your voice, advising me all the way?"
A playful wink.
"Yes, me dame."
"Did you cause all of this?"
Cheerful eyes.
"Oh, definitely."
I couldn't breathe.
Not a breath.
Before me, Balder just stared, smiling, beaming, laugh lines creasing as his blue eyes danced a merry jig, black stubbles wrying with pale wrinkles, fair locks dancing across dusky skin. Arms swung merrily, feet drumming, his wide chest glimmering with the gloss of the golden sweat, curls kissing against the dark shoulders, pants hanging low. Bare toes kicked against golden dust, flute dark in his slim fingers. Lips crooked away in that ever-annoying smile, washing over his face.
His face.
Balder's face.
Balder.
Balder.
My heart screamed.
Balder.
"Tell me this then," all of a sudden, my teeth were gritting together, harsh and fierce, my eyes narrowing unconsciously as I stared up at him, at the blonde man, at Balder, at his beaming eyes and laughing lips, anger seething in my throat, blood roiling, my voice caught hot and white as I whispered out into the golden silence, "why?"
"What?"
"Why, Balder?" my jaws hurt so bad, so very bad, my tongue sore and red, hands knotting into clenched fist at either sides, nails biting into skin, my breath turning hot, turning ragged, my head beginning to pound, anger beginning to consume me, sudden white rage staring up into those merry blue eyes, "Why me? Why did you have to pick me? Why did I have to be your heir? Why? Why?"
"Well-"
"Was it something I did?" there were tears in my eyes, tears I didn't know I had left, hot, rolling tears, springing up to my eyes, choking me, my throat turning tight, turning hot, fingers squeezing close, feet heavy, feet hot, skin crawling as frustration, as rage crept over me, stabbing into me, engulfing me, taking me in, "Was it? Did I do something wrong, back in my life, in my time? Is this a punishment-"
"Many would see this as a reward-"
"I lost Will-"
"Who's Will-"
"You ruined everything."
He didn't reply.
He didn't say a word.
Silence.
In the glow of the golden grotto, in the rushing gurgle of the stream, the smile fell from Balder's lips, lips dropping down into a firm stern, all joy, all merriment casting away, washing away like sands on a beach; blue eyes froze, silent, the wildness, the freedom freezing in those cold icicles, peering quietly, peering silently beyond the fraying golden curls. Laugh lines vanished back into sandy skin, and then, just like that, the tall man fell silent, lips pulled tight, blue eyes piercing, his chest seeming to stop heaving, his lungs seeming to cease. Jaw hardened, thick and dark, stubbles pinpricking black, a knot blooming at the corner of his chin, hard and raw. Arms stopped swinging, heels ceasing their endless drumming. Shoulder pulled tight, silent, tensed as muscles rolled quietly, gold sweat gleaming along the still arms. Eyes stared coldly, grimly.
Silently.
Silence.
A hand wiped away at those stray tears.
Tears.
Seriously, Joey?
You're crying?
Now?
Here?
In front of him?
What the hell's wrong with you?
Couldn't you have done this outside?
Great.
Now, he probably thinks I'm some sort of pathetic child-
"You can leave if you want to."
My breath caught cold.
"W-What?"
"You can leave," his voice had lost its odd energy, his accented tone speaking plainly, calmly, silently, devoid of emotions as he stared quietly over at me, features detached, eyes cold, lines pulled tight, the joy, the laughter washed from his face as if it were never there in the first place, hollow like a shell, as if my very words had somehow erased all traces of life in him, in this man, in this god, "You are more then free to walk out of here."
"H-How-"
"Killing Rygor destroyed the curse. You're free to leave. I'm free to leave. Go away, if that is what you want."
For a moment, I just gaped at him, at his sudden calm face, at his cryptic face, holding my breath as I stared up into those cold, cold eyes, searching for a joke, searching for some sort of laughter-
There was none.
Crap.
"You're serious?"
My eyes were wide.
A simple nod.
"Oh, absolutely," golden curls bounced, blue eyes silent, voice pulled down quiet and numb, a machine staring silently right at me, "If you want it so, leave. You've done your part."
"My part? H-How the hell-"
"See that brook?" with a flick of fair curls, Balder nodded back towards the rushing stream, blue eyes staring deep, staring silently, his face completely devoid of any emotion, azure stabbing deep, "Follow it. Swim through it. Dip down that small tunnel over there, hold your breath a wee bit, and you will come up to another pool. Walk on from there, about 5 minutes or so, and you will emerge near the Enfal. From there, you can return to whatever form of transport you came in, and return to whatever life you have left. I won't disturb you again."
I could only gape.
For a moment, I just stared up at this suddenly quiet man, at his silent eyes, mind whirling, twirling, churning with thoughts.
My lips were so dry.
So dry.
"I can't do that," it was just a whisper, a tiny little whisper, but Balder heard it all right, raising a little, studying me with those cold eyes, those passive eyes, knot hard at his jaw, teeth clenched shut. Golden locks drew silent by his shoulders.
Tears burned at the back of my eyes.
The air was so damp.
Heart screamed.
This is insane.
This is really insane.
I should just go.
I should just leg out of here, just like he said.
Why should I stay here, after all?
Why?
This was the man who ruined everything.
This was the man who was to blame for everything.
The reason.
The god.
Balder.
This was all his fault.
All his fault.
Why should I stay here one more second?
Why?
His voice was so quiet.
"And why not?"
I could barely speak-
Wait.
In the glow of the gold, in the wake of my raw tears and the brief, pounding silence, I suddenly saw that Balder wasn't as young as I thought he was, as his body foretold; in the gloom of the silence, in the hardness of his face, it suddenly became obvious that he looked then 20 years.
Hell, older then 30 years.
His body was fit and strong, gold skin glistening, shoulders broad, chest wide with stretching muscles; but with his lips pulled tight and his eyes suddenly cold, his face aged, features of a man in his mid-thirties, wrinkle-free but hard, weary, harsh after having seen so many years. Body rippled, young and eager, but his silent face told only of an older man, of a full-grown adult. Gone was that youth in his eyes, that stirring adolescence, that burning freedom and eagerness of a young man; instead, he now seemed older, wiser, a man who has seen several, a man weary of his journeys. Age shone deep in that cold ice.
It was as if a mask had been casted away from his face.
His true face?
I don't know.
He's a god, after all.
Are they all like that?
Do they appear younger then they seem, and than suddenly fall back into their old faces, into the face that they had picked?
Was that what it was?
After all, Balder was only then 4000 years old.
Hell, he was older then the earth itself.
Could gods change their age as much as they wanted?
Or did they look a specific only, for all eternity?
Had the youth, the laughter in his blue eyes fooled me?
What the hell is going on?
What the fuck-
"How old are you?"
It was a sudden question perhaps, a misplaced question, for Balder raised one single eyebrow, obviously waiting for me to answer his question, the first sign of emotions I had seen on his face in awhile; now that I had finally seen it, he remained the same, the very same, a full grown man somewhere in his mid-thirties, devilishly handsome but older, like Sparrow. Wry lips pulled tight, uncomprehending.
Silent.
My voice echoed through the golden grotto.
He's was softer.
"I was born before the earth was made," he said simply enough, staring quietly, eyes piercing, eyes hollow, the age shining through the sandy skin.
My throat felt hoarse.
Where on earth are you going with this, Joey?
"And how many years ago was that?"
A single word.
"Billions."
Billions.
For a moment, I just stood there, staring at him, at this man, this god, this ancient god, a creature that could change his age, a creature that created such beautiful music-
Divine.
A divine creature.
A god.
A god of light.
A god of truth.
A god.
A god.
Balder.
Balder.
I was standing in front of Balder.
I was standing in front of a god.
The whole entire time, from the very being, I had confused and mad, furious, frustrated, wanting to punch him, to kill him for everything he had caused-
And not once had I stopped think about who he really was.
About what he really was.
Where he came from.
How he came about.
Why he was here.
What he can do.
For that moment, for that briefest of moment, I could only stare, finally registering what was before me, who was before me-
His voice rang true, silent and deep.
"You didn't answer my question."
I blinked my eyes to refocus.
"W-What?"
No emotion.
"You can leave. Go ahead."
I cleared my throat, brushing aside the fog of questions, the mist of panging thought, straightening my back as I ignored the sinking in of fact. Head shook away the awing admitting.
No.
Now is not the time.
"I can't," I spoke louder, staring up into those eyes, those cold, silent eyes, watching for a reaction, praying for an emotion, my breath caught in my throat, frozen in my lungs, "I can't leave."
Blue eyes stared, silent and dead.
His voice was like a still pond.
"And why not?"
My breath was so cold.
"Because I need your help."
And there, in the soft golden light, Balder lifted the side of his lips again, crooking slightly, smirking slightly, a raw, unprecedented smile creeping across his face once again, lighting it up, blazing it up; eyes, crystal blue eyes soared brilliant, like a jet streaming off its wheels, ice melting away into that familiar leaping joy, that cheeky playfulness, that comforting mischievousness swimming in those sea-depths. Muscles eased back, jaw loosening, laugh lines cresting through the sandy dunes as the laughter, the eagerness, the mere childishness returned to his face, torching bright and keen.
Youth spilled back, like waves over sand.
I swallowed hard.
Wait.
Is this a good thing?
"Help?"
"Yes," I nodded, clearing my throat, controlling myself, fist clenched tight as I stared up at him, trying not to breathe too loudly, "I need your help. It's why I came out here in the first place. Why I killed that Rygor. I wanted to meet you, so that you can help me."
"And what exactly would help be wanting?"
I gulped.
"Will."
A knowing smile.
"Who?"
My heart clenched.
"Oh, I think you know," I nodded simply, biting my tongue as he watched keenly, happily, as if something I said, something about me just amused me to hell, all traces of passiveness, of stern quiet replaced by that usual child-like playfulness, eyes dancing like nymphs in the woods, merry and alive, "You know exactly who I am talking about."
"I don't-"
"If you could whisper me advice inside my head, saving my neck over and over again, surely you know who I am talking about."
"Well, that depends, really," he nodded excitedly, throwing on a dramatic sort of tease, hairs prickling at the back of my neck, "I can only see what my sword sees, and from a certain distance as well-"
"You know."
A beaming smile.
My thumping heart.
Silence.
And then, a single word through gleaming teeth.
"Aye."
My throat choked.
"Then you can bring him back."
For a brief moment, Balder just cocked his head to the right and gave me a mock troubled look, a small smile twitching on his lips as he acted out a little confused demeanour, dramatic, arrogant. Golden curls flocked, straying like hay, eyes laughing, guffawing with ridiculous humour. Lips pouted.
Blood surged.
"Did you hear me?"
"Oh, I heard you all right," he nodded, rolling his 'r', scrunching up his nose and making him look younger, that older face still etched in my mind, his features still somewhat grown in and hard, weary with age, the playful manner of a child making him look younger but no longer hiding his true face, "Just puzzles me how you mortals think that everything is so easy-"
"I don't have time for your nonsense-"
"Did you even read it?"
What?
"What?"
A pretty smile.
"The words," he said simply enough, staring at me with humour, dropping the confused act for his more natural stance of pure enjoyment, the flute twirling in his fingers, "The poem, the edda on the tree."
Now it was my turn to become confused, only I wasn't acting.
"Edda?"
"Golden words, me love," he smiled, grinning gold, my eyebrows scrunching together, trying to understand, "The words written on the face of the Enfal Tree, words that you touched, words that brought you here-"
"You mean the gold-"
"Yes, yes- did you understand it?"
I couldn't understand the train of conversation but I just nodded slowly, staring up at that cheeky smile, wondering what on earth he was getting at. Curls bobbed softly, the medicine man's eye kissing against my bare shoulders, comforting me. Fist shuddered tight, dripping a little damp.
What the hell is he talking about?
Balder just smiled, nodding his head, thinking out loud, handsome face beaming like the sun, his expression growing more and more dramatic with each passing second.
A part of me still wanted to punch him.
"Well, of course you did," he simply said, nodding, eyes bright, keen, golden curls bouncing, face alive like a child, clearly interested, "My sister's magic, though old as the sky, probably converted the edda for you, to whatever language you prefer- speaking of which, what language are we talking in?"
Huh?
"Um…English?"
"Ah. Figures."
"I'm sorry, but where are you going with this? I need your help-"
"And obviously you didn't pay any attention to what was written at all, did you?"
I could only gape.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Obviously."
"Dude, I have no idea what you are ranting about but I lost my friend, killed a dragon, came down here all so that you can-"
" ' It sates itself on the life-blood of fated man,' " his voice suddenly sprang up into the air, thick and joyful, Balder cocking up his head and singing up to the golden ceiling, yelling a dramatic recitation, suddenly theatrical, a thespian strolling between the two arches, kicking up dust as if he was truly an actor on stage, so over-the-top, " ' paints red the power's homes with crimson gore!' "
What on earth-
His voice resounded, dramatic as hell.
" ' Black becomes the sunbeams, in the summers that follows! Weather-' "
"What are you-"
" '- Weathers all treacherous! Do you still seek to know? And-"
"I can read, alright?" Exasperation edged in my voice as I finally cut him off, shouting over his dramatic tone, ending his recitation and lowering his gaze back to me, an unnerving cheeky grin plastered across his handsome lips, blue eyes laughing with humour, "I read what it said-"
"But obviously, you have no idea what it was talking about!" he smiled happily, obviously pleased with his little performance, grinning like an idiot, golden curls giggling in pure bliss; if it had been any other time, in any other situation, I would have probably have laughed along at his silly act, clutching my tummy with uncontrollable chuckles-
But not now.
Not today.
Not ever.
Not until I get Will back.
I cleared my throat.
"Does it even matter-"
"Of course, it matters!" golden curls flicked high as he beamed that cheery smile, that high smile, blue eyes laughing as my heart sank deep, fist tight, throat tight, "What do you think? We immortals just write Eddas for the fun of it?"
"That is not important right now-"
"What on earth do you think that those words meant? What on earth do you think it meant with 'paints the power's homes crimson go-' "
"I DON'T CARE-"
"The end of the world."
The world froze.
Completely froze.
For a moment, I just stood there, mouth gaping, staring up at those golden curls, those laughing blue eyes, mind freezing on the spot, halting still, trapped in a locked room, suspended high, numb and stunned, dull and dead. Fingers froze at my sides.
I couldn't breathe.
The end of the world.
The end of the world.
The end of the world.
No.
No.
No.
It can't be.
Circe had said it.
But she was mad.
Mental.
It can't be.
It can't be.
It isn't.
It can't.
It won't.
No.
No.
No.
"Start talking."
WOHOO!
Don't worry, a lot will be explained in the next chapter. Thanks for all your reviews and please keep them coming; I adore them very much and they really, really help! Tell me what you think, and I will try to get the next one to you as soon as possible. Thanks, and see you soon!
XOXO
