Chapter 58 Rhyland #2
"Baldr lacks the power to engage in direct combat," Frigg interjects, her melodic voice countering Odin's growl. "Ensuring his safety is paramount."
"Precisely." Odin's single eye fixes us with a stare that could make mountains kneel. "His knowledge of the realm is crucial to your quest."
Silence descends, broken only by the collective sound of jaws hitting the floor. Dani recovers first, her eyes wide with mock innocence. "No worries, your godliness." She says with false sweetness. "We managed just fine without Prince Charming over there."
Odin drains his mead, either oblivious or ignoring her sarcasm.
"Good. Then we understand each other." His gaze shifts to Bryn, something ancient and unfathomable in his eye.
"Brynhildr, mitt barn av vinden." His voice softens, heavy with sorrow.
"Once my proudest Valkyrie, now grounded by sacrifice.
Yet perhaps..." He leans forward, power crackling in the air.
"Sometimes we must fall to rise higher. Your new path awaits, dóttir, one written in stars older than my wisdom.
Trust your heart's flight—it knows the way. "
Bryn inclines her head, a warrior acknowledging her king's words: "Takka tér, faeir." Her voice is steady, but I catch the slight hitch in her breath.
Under the table, Erik's hand moves, a subtle shift that would go unnoticed by anyone not watching for it.
But I see the way Bryn's fingers twitch, the almost imperceptible lean of her body toward his.
A silent communication passes between them, a language of touch and breath and heartbeats that speaks louder than Odin's proclamations.
In this moment, I clearly understand what the old man means about Bryn's new path.
It's not about wings or battles or destinies written in the stars.
It's about finding strength in unexpected places, about forging bonds that even the gods couldn't predict.
It's about love, plain and simple. The kind that weathers any storm, that rises from the ashes of what was to build something new and unbreakable.
And from the way Erik's eyes soften as they meet Bryn's, the way her lips curve into the ghost of a smile meant only for him? They're already walking that path, wings or no wings.
Odin's eye fixes on Dani and me. "I have heard of your triumph over my fallen champions. To capture the essence of both Skadi and Vidar?" He smiles, fierce and proud. "Only the true saviors could achieve such a feat."
He tears into a hunk of boar meat, the sound of his teeth rending flesh a reminder of the predator beneath the king's finery. "On the morrow, you will journey to the Elemental Nexus." He swallows, fixing us with a stare. "I trust you are prepared to seize this relic and continue your quest?"
Dani's head bobs up and down like a cork in a storm, her mouth half-full of food. "Mmph, absolutely." She swallows hastily, sun-kissed eyes wide and earnest. "I'm so ready to go home, I'm practically vibrating."
I hide a smirk behind my mead, but I can't disagree.
ásgard may be my ancestral land, the birthplace of my divine blood, but it's not my home.
My place is with my chosen family—with Dani, with my brothers.
With the ones who stand by me not because of destiny or prophecy, but because of the bonds we've forged through blood, battle, and unwavering loyalty.
I'm ready to get the fuck out of this gold and ice realm and back to the messy, chaotic, beautifully imperfect world we've built together.
Odin's words hang in the air like storm clouds as we finish our meal in tense silence.
The mead flows freely—too freely maybe, as I'm ten horns deep and the golden halls have started to blur at the edges.
Dani kissed me goodnight ages ago, and Erik fucked off to his chambers, probably face-down in his bed by now.
My boots echo against marble as I stumble through corridors that shift and twist.
I find myself in an alcove, staring up at Magni's statue. My father's stone face gazes sightlessly ahead, his nameplate gleaming like an accusation in the torchlight.
"Beautiful craftsmanship, isn't it?"
Fucking hell. I don't even try to hide my eye roll as Baldr materializes beside me, offering another horn of mead. "You look like you could use this."
I snatch it, taking a long pull to avoid conversation. The mead tastes off—sharper, more bitter than before.
"What do you want?" I growl.
"Can't two warriors share a drink?" His perfect smile makes me want to introduce it to my fist. "Though I must say, the show you put on at the ball the other night was far more... entertaining."
The horn freezes halfway to my lips. "What the fuck did you just—?"
"Oh, you know." He examines his nails, casual as discussing the weather. "When you had your mate pressed against the wall. The way she fell apart around your cock was quite... spectacular."
Red bleeds into my vision. It was this piece of shit who watched? Watched her intimate moments meant only for me?
"Tell me," his voice drops like venomous honey, eyes gleaming with malevolent mischief, "does she always scream quite so.
.. enthusiastically when you claim that tight little ass of hers?
Or was that performance just for my benefit?
" His smile pisses me off. "Such a responsive little thing.
Makes one wonder how she'd react to a real god's touch. "
"You son of a bitch." My muscles coil as I swing, ready to remove his fucking head—
The room tilts violently. My knees buckle as the alcove spins like a carnival ride from hell.
Baldr's golden form stretches, darkens, and transforms. In his place stands a taller figure, cloaked in shadows.
His horned helm gleams with unholy light, black as the depths of Unbra.
His smile is a slash of white in the darkness, cruel and sharp as a blade.
"Allow me to introduce myself properly." His voice slithers like oil on water. "Loki, God of Mischief, at your service."
What the fuck?
I try to speak but my tongue feels wrapped in wool, my mind swimming in a toxic haze.
"Ah yes, that would be the mistletoe extract.
" He examines an empty vial with theatrical interest. "The same herb I used to orchestrate dear Baldr's demise.
Such a delightfully toxic little plant." His laughter ripples like black silk.
"Poor, precious Frigg—so desperate to protect her golden boy that she made every plant and creature swear an oath never to harm him.
But she forgot one tiny detail." His eyes gleam with cruel satisfaction.
"One insignificant little plant she deemed too young to swear.
Such a fatal oversight for her beloved son.
" He tilts the empty vial, watching it catch the light.
"Though I must admit, it won't kill you like it did him.
No, no—you're made of... hardier stock. Just enough to keep you. .. compliant."
He grabs my arm, his touch burning cold like frost-bite. Reality shreds apart at the seams—we're moving through darkness, through nothing, through everything. My stomach heaves as colors and sensations assault me from all sides.
"Consider this a lesson in mythology, Commander," his voice echoes through the void. "Sometimes the oldest poisons are still the most effective. Even demi-gods can fall to a simple plant... when wielded by the right trickster."
We materialize on a cliff beside a frozen lake, my legs giving out entirely as Loki produces heavy chains from nowhere.
"Welcome back to Valor's Watch." The metal bites into my flesh as he works, my limbs too heavy to fight back.
"The wards are up," Loki purrs, tightening the chains.
"Your precious mate won't hear a thing."
My mind screams at my body to move, to fight, but the bullshit poison he slipped me has turned my muscles to lead. The chains wrap around me like serpents, cold and unforgiving. My powers—the ones that could level a fucking mountain—stay locked away, as frozen as my traitorous body.
"Sweet dreams, Commander of Dark Skies." His grin splits the night. "Try not to drown too quickly."
He shoves me backward. I fall and fall until ice water hits like a thousand knives. The chains drag me down as my body locks up, refusing to fight. Water floods my lungs with the first involuntary gasp, each spasm bringing fresh agony.
As darkness creeps in, one thought burns brighter than the pain.
"Dani."
Gods, please...
Then there's nothing but the cold, dark, and endless drowning cycle I know is to come.