Baldr's POV
It had been two days since he had arrived.
At least he thought so.
The underworld sun never set and the UV-A light¹ bathed the entirety of Niflheimr and Helheimr in permanent ghostly twilight. There was no day-night cycle. It seemed to Baldr, like time stood still in this murky, chilly world.
Fortunately the Bright One had quickly figured out, that Hel had a rigid schedule he could orientate himself on.
The meals played a big part: there was a warm and simple breakfast for the Queen of the Dead (and for him, since he had a seat of honour at her table), an opulent lunch and a warm, but light dinner (Hel had told him, that it was better not to eat too much in the evening).
Baldr didn't believe, that the ingredients for the food were home-grown; that was impossible around here. But he didn't dare ask, where they came from.
Hel also had the habit of getting up early, earlier than Baldr was used to. Perhaps it was because his habit was to rise with the sun, or maybe it was the black light of the underworld sun, which made him feel like he was woken up earlier than usual.
Hel's two personal servants, Ganglöt and Ganglati, worked rather slowly (no surprise with how elderly they were) and Hel had advised him to make requests at least an hour in advance, whenever he wanted something.
Baldr had also learned quickly, that Hel was rather morbid, when it came to naming things.
Apart from her gargantuan palace, Éljúðnir, her own bed was named Kór (sickbed), its curtains Blikjandabol (gleaming bale), her table was named Hungr (hunger), her knife Sultr (starvation).
("Why do you give your possessions such dark names?"
"Why not?"
Later he had learned from her manservant Ganglati, that her gallows humour – which she clearly had got from her father – was her way of coping with her ruined youth.)
And last but not least …
"Uhm, Hel? May I ask you something?"
"Certainly."
"Why is there a pitfall in front of your audience hall?"
"Oh, you mean Fallandaforað²? That's my threshold."
Threshold?
"It sorts out anyone who has malicious intent and or is guilty of hubris."
Now Baldr was even more confused. "Uhm … could you elaborate please?"
"Alright: every soul has an individual signature, made up of character, memories, thoughts and good or bad deeds they have done in life. Over the chasm of my threshold goes an invisible magical film. Most people are able to cross it, no problem. The really bad ones stumble over invisible obstacles, but they get across. But those guilty of hubris or ill intent fall into the chasm. Their punishment is to be lost forever in the deepest and darkest pits of Niflhel."
Baldr felt a cold shiver run down his spine.
Hel's emotionless tone and face hadn't made her explanation any less scary. Neither did her sudden changed of disposition, when she suggested talking about something more pleasant.
When he asked her personal servants about it, Ganglati, her elderly butler, just laughed: "Well, that's how our queen is. She's very changeable, both in appearance and in demeanour. If she has a blank expression all the time, well, that's just Hel being Hel. But here's a tip; if you want to get a hint on how she's feeling, pay close attention to the state of her left half. The worse her mood is, the more decayed her face is. But if she's happy, it looks just as lively and beautiful as the right side of her body."
The light god tilted his head in interest. "Is that so?"
"Mhm."
"You two must have known her for a long time."
Ganglati nodded affirmatively. "Oh yes. We were already long here, when she came here as a young thing. Such a frightened, poor little lass she was. Such a burden on the shoulder of a ten-year-old. It took her a while to grow into her new role, but we were there through all of it, Ganglöt and I."
Compassion struck Baldr with an intensity he hadn't felt in quite a while (and he was quite a compassionate person, a "bleeding heart", as Loki had called it scornfully).
The things this woman must have gone through!
.
Hel's POV
Hel allowed Baldr to roam through the castle, so that he could get used to it (among other reasons).
The Bright One was curious and once he got over his initial apprehension, he asked her a lot of questions, which made her really happy. He was genuinely interested in her place.
Maybe it was selfish, but she would have been a fool, if she hadn't been grateful for this indeed very special revenge kill/"birthday gift" from her father.
Her life wasn't boring per se, just … repetitive. Always the paper work and the soul judging.
Well, at least the upside of the latter was the soul reading. Whatever the soul had experienced, she knew it, their memories, their wishes and hopes, their deepest secrets – some of which even the persons themselves didn't know – and of course their silly little mishaps.
Sometimes being a death goddess could be really fun.
She always had a story to tell and a friend from Hellas had given her the idea to write those stories down. Now she had to employ thousands of librarians to administrate the nigh infinite amount of media in her Halls of Knowledge. But hey, the dead might as well make themselves useful.
Hel was quite sure, that Baldr would be dying to see them, once he found out about them. Maybe she would have to drag him out of there; reading his soul had revealed, that he loved stories and reading.
One thing was for sure: he was really curious about the little light that floated about the hallways of the entire castle. Once Hel was showing him the halls he was going to inhabit, once the problems were fixed, when Baldr caught one of the little lights in his hand. The next moment he yelped, let go and the light quickly escaped.
"It bit me!", he exclaimed in shock. Hel took a look at his hand. There was no blood, but one of his fingers had a visible bite mark.
She smiled lopsidedly. "You have to excuse them. They panic easily and when they panic, they bite."
"What are they anyway?", Baldr asked. "I've been wondering for a while."
"These, Baldr, are the souls of stillborn children", Hel revealed. "Babies, who just transformed from a bunch of cells to living, sentient beings, who just gained a soul – only to lose this spark of light almost immediately, before they could even see the world and take their first breath. Some of them had already been born, when they died – usually of sickness, or because they were considered weak and were abandoned. So they're as confused and upset as babies can be."
Baldr looked pained. "That's awful", he whispered.
"It is", Hel agreed. Then she hummed a little melody and the baby souls gathered around her head and hands, including the one that had bitten Baldr's finger.
"Hello, children", she greeted them. "How are you today? Are you playing nicely?"
Their answer was a barely audible hum, a chorus of susurrated words only she could hear. The tiniest of them (the little finger biter) nuzzled her right cheek.
"Hey there, sweetie", Hel smiled. "I see, you're growing teeth."
She turned to Baldr. "Come here, Óðinnson. This little soul wants to tell you something. But pay very close attention and keep your voice down; the souls of the stillborn have the faintest voices and are most sensitive to noise."
Baldr approached and hesitantly opened his hand. The tiny soul floated onto it, then up his arm and onto his shoulder, right next to his left ear. His eyes widened in evident surprise, as the soul whispered something into his ear. But then he smiled and whispered back, that it was okay.
The soul nuzzled his cheek too and made a humming sound, which prompted the other souls to float over and orbit around the glowing god.
.
Baldr's POV
Baldr wasn't quite sure, what to do, but at least the souls seemed comfortable around him, so that was a good thing. Hel seemed pleased at the sight.
"Are they attracted to my light?", he asked softly.
"Oh yes. As I said before, most of these children have never seen the light of day, but some have. The big one on your hand, that's Ragnar. He died at the age of three and is the oldest of the group. He just told the little ones, that your face shines like the sun. So they're really excited. They had no idea the sun was so bright, warm and beautiful."
"Oh", he breathed and his cheeks reddened considerably (seriously, what was that with all the blushing lately?).
Some of the souls made a noise that sounded suspiciously like giggling.
Of course this wasn't the first time, that someone likened Baldr's brightness and fairness to the sun, but to him it meant so much more, when it came from a child.
"I agree", Hel responded to his process of thought. "It does mean a lot more from a small child. They don't say these things to flatter or to be poetic or romantic, but because to them it's a simple truth." She smiled. "Look at them, they really like you! They orbit around you like planets! Seems like you're called 'The Beloved' for a reason. Even the dead love you."
These words made him glow a little brighter with joy. "I'm glad", he said gently.
They stayed there for a while, before continuing their tour, leaving the souls to play.
After walking for a while, Hel asked her companion: "What's the matter? You're so silent."
"Just wondering, that's all", Baldr mumbled. "When does a being get a soul?"
"Hm, I think it's an ethical or philosophical question", Hel mused. "Some say, it's at the moment of conception, some say it's at birth. But to me, it's the moment, when their tiny little organs start working; the moment they become viable."
"Why can the souls talk?"
"Unlike their mortal shells, souls have a voice, mind and conscience from the moment they spring into existence. Even if the creatures themselves can't speak, their souls can. And if you can hear the soul inside a creature, you can understand them. You can read them like books."
"Like you can?", Baldr asked.
"Yes and no. I can only read the dead. The living are an enigma to me", Hel admitted. "That's one of the reasons I prefer the company of ghosts. Another being the way the living look at me. The horror, fear and disgust in their eyes … I hated going outside in Jötunheimr."
He gasped: "Your own kind was afraid of you?!"
"Yes. We led an isolated life deep in the Járnviðr. But sometimes mother would have to travel to the next settlement for groceries and then she would take us along, because she couldn't leave us alone at home. But it's not fun to go outside, only to be called a 'monster' a 'freak', or other charming things like that."
Baldr felt his heart crack.
This wasn't right. She didn't deserve this.
Unable to stop himself, he took her hand.
"I don't think you're a monster or a freak", he spoke softly.
.
Hel's POV
Hel felt a blush rise to both of her cheeks and for the first time in quite a while, her left side turned lively.
"You don't?", she asked
The dead god shook his head vehemently: "Absolutely not! They were fools for not seeing your magnificence!"
Her blush intensified and she couldn't help but smile.
"Thank you, Baldr. That means a lot to me."
Of course it didn't escape her, that her apparent joy made him happy in return.
Oh Baldr, you sweet and messed up summer child.
.
A few hours later, at the lunch table, he thought of another question.
"Hel, can I ask you something?"
"Of course you can."
"Uhm … do you come after your mother? I mean, you definitely have Loki's wit and gallows humour, but except for that, I don't see much of a resemblance between you and him."
Hel smirked.
Baldr giggled: "Okay, scratch that. That is definitely a Loki-smirk."
"Why, thank you!", the Queen of the Dead snickered. "I'll take that as a compliment. But to answer your question: yes, I do come more after my mother – at least on the good side."
By his curious eyes she could tell, that he wanted to know more, but was afraid to ask.
"Go on", she encouraged him.
He fidgeted a little. "Your mother … what was she like?"
Hel tilted her head. "Why did you hesitate to ask me that?"
"W-well … I thought … I …"
"That it would hurt me to be reminded of her?"
"Y-yes."
"It doesn't", she assured him. "I like remembering my mother. She was the most unimpressed person you could ever meet. Very outspoken too, though she didn't talk much. She didn't smile much, but never got angry either. She would teach us her magic and all kinds of runes and spells. Mother didn't play with us, that was father's job. But sometimes she would do something sweet. Small gestures here and there. When I was a little girl, I asked my mother for bells to play with. She said no, but on Yule I found them in my Yule bag. It was father, who gave them to me, but he whispered into my ear, that it had been mother's doing. 'But that's a secret, sweetie', he said, 'Don't tell Mama I told you'. These …" She took the scythe, which was leaning against the table and shook it, making the bells ring, "… are the very same bells. They're my most priced possession."
Baldr was smiling from ear to ear. "That's such a sweet story! You and your family must have been so close."
"We still are", Hel corrected. "We always were, always are and always will be. I'm sure that as an Ása you know that kind of love. During my brief stay in Asgard I could tell, that your family is a very tight-knit group."
He clearly understood.
"I want you to understand, Baldr, that it doesn't upset me to talk about my family. I have nothing but fond memories of them. What upsets me is what your family did to us. My brothers and I, we were only children, when your father tore us apart. I do not truly hate Óðinn, because I know and understand, why does what he does. Still he hurt us and for that I resent him."
Baldr nodded sadly. "I think I do understand. You're a strong person to not hate my father."
Hel sighed: "I wouldn't call it strong. It's not so much strong as it is wise. It's the sensible thing to do. Hatred doesn't resolve anything. It just makes you more miserable, blackens your soul and clouds your judgement. My father is the hateful, vindictive one."
"Can confirm", Baldr said wryly and pointed to where he had been pierced by the mistletoe dart.
Right that moment, the waiters came in and brought lunch.
When Baldr saw the content of his bowl, his face brightened up.
"Ohhh, girolle stew with mussels!", he squealed in delight.
Hel chortled, as the light god proceeded to practically inhale his food.
"You certainly have a healthy appetite!", she snickered.
Baldr laughed sheepishly: "Yeah, Nanna would say that too. She used to joke, that, if we weren't so rich, I would eat us out of house and home."
Hel snickered some more: "Don't you worry, Bright One. There is no danger of that happening. You can eat as much as you want."
The blond beamed and refilled his bowl.
.
Later Hel was sitting in her office doing her paperwork and making zoom calls.
She was on the call with a few of her foreign colleagues, when a knock on her office door got her attention.
"Wait a second, guys, someone just knocked on my office – ENTER!", she called out to whoever was waiting outside.
She was a little surprised, when the door opened to reveal …
"Baldr! What can I do for you?", Hel inquired.
He was smiling sweetly – primordial cow, it looked so cute!
"Hi, I just wanted to- oh, wait, I see you're busy", he noted sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I'll just come back later-"
"Don't be silly! Come here, Óðinnson!", she ordered.
.
Baldr's POV
Baldr obeyed, albeit hesitantly.
"Come", she repeated. "I want you to meet my colleagues from abroad."
He joined her behind the magical screens and saw the faces inside them.
"Everyone", Hel addressed her colleagues, "I want you to meet my new companion. This is-"
"Baldr!", one of the other underworld rulers exclaimed and waved behind their screen. "What a surprise! Hi!"
Baldr recognised the other and beamed. "Oh, hey, Persephone!"
Hel blinked: "You two know each other?"
Baldr nodded. "Yes, I've met her a few times, when my family and I would visit the Olympians for business-"
"So this is the dead god you're hosting now?", one of the other zoom call participants asked. "I've heard of some god dying and entering your realm."
"Yes, this is him", Hel confirmed. "Baldr, this is Osiris, son of Nut and Geb. He's the king of the Egyptian underworld and very much like you. Osiris, this is Baldr Óðinnson, formerly the god of light, peace, joy, justice, spring and all that stuff – which should be obvious by the way he glows."
Some of the foreign chthonic deities laughed.
Curiously Baldr regarded the Egyptian god. Through the screen he could tell that the other had green skin, was clad in white linen and wearing a white crown.
"So you died too?"
"Yes, no thanks to my brother Seth", Osiris sighed. "My wife and some helpers sewed me back together and resurrected me. But since I was already dead, I couldn't return to the land of the living, so here I am, ruling the afterlife. But it's a nice gig and I'm comfortable here. I'm sure, you will like living with Hel too. Once you get used to her aloof demeanour, you will find, that she's a very likeable person."
"Oh, I do!", Baldr agreed eagerly. "I really like it here!"
He couldn't help but laugh, when Hel gawked at him like he had just grown a second head.
"What's so funny?", Hel complained, "This is the first time I hear that sentence!"
Baldr gasped: "What? Well, then I will have to tell you more often, because it's true!"
He was very pleased with himself, when the left side of Hel's face turned significantly more lifelike (though she was still deathly pale) and a blush tainted her right cheek.
That means she's happy, right? According to Ganglati, that means she's happy.
"Awww!", some of the foreign underworld rulers cooed.
"So cute!", Persephone gushed.
"Does anyone have something of importance to say, before I end this conference?", one of the participants – a skeletal god with a splendid, colourful feather crown – asked.
Everyone else said no.
"Good. The meeting is over."
Hel lost no time in switching her screens off.
Baldr gave her a questioning look. "Not even so much as a goodbye?"
"Not among us underworld gods", she muttered. "Besides, I don't need to hear their gossiping. In that regard many chthonic deities are just as bad as most upperworld deities."
Ah. No wonder she wanted to get away as quickly as possible.
"They're going to ship us, aren't they?", he sighed.
"Like GodEx", she grumbled. "Especially the married ones. You have to excuse them. Every time they suspect that one of us singles has even so much as a crush, they get all … stupid."
"Ah. Yes, I've been there."
"I know you have. By the way, you can sit down."
Baldr smiled gratefully and sat on the chair in front of Hel's desk.
She leaned back in her own chair and regarded him across the table.
"So! What brings you here?", she wanted to know.
He shifted in his chair.
For a few minutes he had forgot about what he had come here for, but now he was reminded. He had just wanted to … wanted to – oh Allfather, what had he been thinking? She was the Queen of the Dead, she had so many better and more important things to do than listen to his stupid-
"Go on. Spit it out."
"I … I just … I …"
He grew pale, when he saw how the left half of her face decayed again and she began to frown. He was displeasing her. She was getting agitated, just because he couldn't even … damn it!
And just like that he broke into tears.
"I'm sorry!", he blubbered, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to- I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
Through the blur he could just about make out Hel leaping up and darting around the table, then her right hand cupping his face and the other dabbing at his eyes with a paper tissue.
"Hey now." Her voice was so gentle. "There is nothing to say sorry for. You don't owe me an apology. You don't owe me anything."
"But … but …"
"Listen to me, Baldr", she spoke sternly. "You don't have to please me. You don't have to live up to my expectations. I expect nothing of you. You don't have to put on a false smile and pretend that everything is fine, when it's really not. I know everything, Baldr. I saw the hurt, anxiety and depression, that broke you to the point where you wanted to die. I saw the lone moments, when you sought comfort in your twin's arms, because the pressure was too much to bear. But you know what? It's gone now. You're dead. You're free. Just let go."
Let go.
Only one person had ever told him that in his life: Höðr, his dear twin-brother. No one else had ever understood.
In his beauty, purity and wisdom, Baldr appeared to be perfect.
He was not.
Blinded by admiration or envy, the people, who flocked around him, forgot that he too had his shortcomings. Höðr had been the only one, who had never forgot, had never expected anything of him. And now there was another person, who asked nothing of him either, who understood his feelings?
Baldr cried harder. He couldn't help it.
For a second he was confused, when Hel moved to take him in her arms, only to stop short. But then she shifted and let him lean into her right shoulder, instead of the left. Honestly, Baldr wouldn't have given a damn, he just wanted to be held, to cry his heart out and be told that everything was alright now.
This was wrong, because he was just one of many dead people and she was his new queen and sovereign. It was undignified and improper, downright insulting and disrespectful even, to get emotional in front of a monarch.
But for some reason Baldr couldn't bring himself to care.
He just drank in the physical closeness and Hel's soothing and placid aura and listened to her murmured words of comfort.
.
"Are you feeling a bit better?", Hel asked, when he had finally stopped crying.
He nodded, sniffling. "Yeah … I think so. Thank you so much. I really needed that, I suppose."
"No need to thank me", she replied and handed him a jug of water. "Just know that, whenever you need someone to talk to, I'm all ears- uhhh, Baldr, why are you pouting like that?"
"Why are you wearing your hair like that?", he all but huffed. "You haven't done that since Nanna saw your face and couldn't stand looking at it."
She had brushed her black hair forward to hide the decayed part of her face and for some reason that bothered him even more now than it had a few days ago.
Hel made her "owl face", tilting her head and looking at him with that bottomless black eye.
But it soon gave way to her usual blank expression.
.
Hel's POV
"Can you stand looking at it?", Hel questioned earnestly. "Your breakdown happened after you saw how my condition worsened. You saw my face decay and flipped out."
Baldr blushed and mumbled: "Uhm … it wasn't because of that. You see, I noticed that your left side changes condition and your butler explained to me, that it's affected by your mood. So when that happened earlier and you started frowning, I … I thought …"
"That you had displeased or even angered me", Hel realised. "I see. Looks like I owe you an apology. I didn't mean to frighten you. I was getting impatient, because of your stuttering, yes, but angry? No. How could I ever be angry at someone like you?"
She flashed him a half smile.
For the first time in his life, Baldr acted on impulse: he brushed her hair out of the left half of her face and tucked it behind her ear.
"That's better", he smiled.
It took her a heroic amount of self-control not to blush again, like a flustered teenager (Niflheimr, she was thousands of years old and had never once gotten flustered before Baldr had showed up!).
But damn, he's so adorable!
She coughed awkwardly and returned to her chair behind her desk.
"Now, that you have calmed down, what did you want to talk about?"
Baldr blinked, as if he had forgot.
But then he laughed: "Oh, right! I just wanted to know, if we could talk more about our families, you and I. If you want to and have time, of course."
She could feel her left side become more lifelike, enabling her to smile fully.
"I would very much like that, Óðinnson."
1) Ultraviolet-A light. The proper term for black light. As a god of light, Baldr would know everything about light and the different spectra and would probably say UV-A light, rather than black light.
2) Fallandaforað: "Falling Bale/Falling Danger", Hel's threshold.