Thirty Days Later
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this." Thor ran his fingers through his hair and slid on his boots before tying the laces.
"I think it's your mother you have to thank. I simply asked if you would go with me because I have someone I need to meet, and I don't want to be roped into conversations with anyone looking for free legal advice," Loki replied.
Thor threw him a daggered gaze. "You mean a meeting you happened to mention in my mother's presence, which happened to be on the same night as her monthly masquerade feast?"
Loki chuckled and straightened his shirt cuffs. "Wrong again, my boy. Your mother set up the meeting. It's not my fault you're so nosy you eavesdropped on the conversation and got tangled up in her little scheme to marry you off."
Thor growled and stood from the edge of his bed.
He didn't need marrying off. He'd been there, and that hadn't worked out, so giving it another try was not in the cards as far as he was concerned. Not that that stopped Frigg. Ever since the destruction of the Bifrost during Ragnarok, rifts had formed all over the nine realms. Rifts they’d tried to fix by remaking the Bifrost. But Odin’s magic wasn’t as it had once been, and so instead of connecting Asgard to Midgard, the Bifrost had somehow connected to Yggdrasil, the great ash tree connecting all worlds.
In doing so, it opened up pathways between realms that the Asgardians had never realized existed before.
Mount Olympus, Helheim, heaven, Valhalla, and Fólkvangr, Sheol and Gan Eden, Swarga Loka, Jingtu, and the immortal realms, Jōdo, Duat.
Whatever realm was believed in after death, it connected to Yggdrasil.
And as they had all grown restless in their respective afterlives, immortals used the rifts to move from realm to realm.
And as such, the Norse god had moved from Valhalla to a realm of their own in Helheim.
A realm that they had created and reigned over with the permission of Hel, Queen of Helheim.
Not that she had much choice. When Odin said something was happening, it happened.
And ever since the move, Frigg had tried to set Thor up with every human and sup- supernatural who came into her pub or attended her masquerades.
Frigg may want to see him happy, but she had no idea what weighed his soul down, and he doubted bringing a female into the mix would make anything better.
Even so, he appeased his mother by agreeing to attend her masquerades about every six months.
Not that anything ever happened. For decades, he'd watched regulars show up and leave.
Seen newcomers pair off with someone never to return.
But for him, it was all routine. He went.
He drank. He spoke as little as possible, and he left. Tonight would be no different.
Loki set his hand on Thor's shoulder for a moment. "It won't be any different if you don't give it a chance."
Thor shrugged off Loki's touch. "I hate it when you do that. Reading minds is creepy."
Loki shrugged. "I wouldn't need to if you opened your mouth and spoke more. You used to be so talkative. Couldn't stop talking as I remember. Mostly about yourself. Your conquests, victories, virtues, anything about you. But now-"
"Now I know better." Thor grabbed his leather coat and threw it on.
"I was going to say, now you are boring."
"And what about you?" Thor questioned. "I don't see you rushing out to find someone."
Loki flashed him a winning smile. "I don't need to. My bed is constantly filled with whoever I find companionable for the night. No strings. No expectations. Just fun. The way I like it."
Thor walked to the edge of his loft and took the metal stairs down to the floor of his shop two at a time. Bikes lined the walls of the solid brick structure. In the middle of the shop, his current restoration lay in pieces. Every section of the bike meticulously laid out and labeled.
"No time for fiddling with that," said Loki. “I still don’t know why you mess with those things when you can fly.”
“What about you and your squashed, brightly colored cars? You can fly, why do you drive those things?”
“Touché.” Loki inclined his head.
“Besides,” said Thor. “I like taking them apart and rebuilding them the way I want them. Gives me something to focus on.” He didn’t say it gave him something to focus on, so he didn’t think about his failure to stop Ragnarok and the death of all their people.
Thor walked to his workbench and lifted his ancient hammer.
Mjolnir had begun to feel heavier in his hand in the past century.
He wasn't sure if it was because of the things he'd done, or the things he hadn't, but he didn't care.
The Thor of legend was no more, and what remained of him was nothing but a scarred shell.
"My car is out front." Loki headed to the exit.
"I can make my own way there." Thor lifted his hammer to the sky and, as always, disappeared in a flash of light.
Thor slammed onto the lawn in front of Frigg's mansion, making several people jump.
The mansion rose behind a giant stone fountain like a relic of old Asgard transplanted into the Underworld.
Pale stone walls threaded with climbing ivy, tall arched windows framed in white oak, and a pitched slate roof that disappeared into the perpetual cool haze overhead.
No sun in Helheim, never sun, just the ambient glow of Helheim's ethereal illumination bleeding through the sky like a moon trapped behind gauze.
The air smelled of rose petals and champagne, obviously a scent Frigg had conjured for the occasion.
Gold-and-rust-colored leaves from the row of birch trees lining the cobblestone drive drifted across the grass in lazy spirals, pushed by an unseen breeze.
The center of the lawn in front of her estate sported a fountain carved from veined gray marble, depicting two ravens mid-flight, water arcing from their open beaks into a wide basin tinged green with age.
The blush-colored rose hedges flanking it were still heavy with late blooms, their fragrance thick enough to taste, sweet and overwhelming, cutting through the mineral coolness of Helheim’s air.
Somewhere beyond the hedges, the low murmur of conversation, the clink of glasses, and dance music floated toward him.
Amongst the bushes and the fountain, several of Frigg's cats played and chased each other while various people watched.
A fat orange tabby batted at a fallen rose petal while a sleek black cat with a crooked tail stalked through the hedgerow, belly low to the ground.
A third, gray, imperious, the eldest, sat on the fountain's rim and watched the proceedings with the disdain of a creature who had outlived empires.
At least five more cats scattered across the lawn, weaving between the legs of guests who stood in loose clusters on the grass, holding drinks and picking at plates of food balanced on the stone garden benches.
The distant trill of a bird echoed from somewhere in the birch trees, mixing with the splash of fountain water and the cats' occasional chirping at each other.
He stowed Mjolnir in his inner coat pocket and strode to the door.
A bluish-skinned man with protruding tusks nodded and let Thor in without so much as a questioning glance.
One of the perks of being an immortal god who had thousands of stories made up about him over the centuries meant no one questioned who he was or his purpose for being somewhere.
He entered through the open stained-glass double door, and his gut clenched at the sight of the crimson and petal colored explosion that had taken over his mother’s home.
Frigg's private quarters had been transformed into a florist's fever dream.
Garlands of dried roses in dusty mauve and deep burgundy draped from the ceiling beams, their papery petals floating down to land silently against the floor.
Silk ribbons in shades of cream and gold coiled around every chair back and bannister, and the long dining tables disappeared beneath towers of wine glasses, food plates, and desserts.
Someone had stoked the hearth until the air felt thick, almost humid.
Yggdrasil-patterned wallpaper peeked between swags of tulle, pinned with rune-etched brooches that glinted with silver and diamond under the ethereal overhead lights.
Immortals moved around talking and dancing, drinking and eating.
A feast for the senses. A light, soothing scent he couldn’t place tickled his nose and made him relax a fraction.
Frigg’s own magic conjured a scent for each individual being.
All based on what the being needed to help them relax and prevent fights.
Masked eyes turned his direction, but then turned away. Well, this was going to be fun.
He spotted Frigg floating between tables in the room, talking and laughing. She stopped and turned, spotting him. She excused herself and headed his way.
"Has it been six months already?" She handed him a golden mask that materialized out of the air.
"Mother." Thor stared at the mask and snorted.
“I think it fits you.”
He shook his head and affixed the mask to his face, not that it would do any good at hiding who he was.
"Let's hope this time you find what you are looking for."
"I'm never looking," he said. “You are.”
Frigg's smile didn't waver. "Then let's hope someone else finds what they are looking for in you."
Thor nodded and turned toward the bar, but paused. "Oh, I almost forgot, Loki is coming as well. He's running late."
Frigg rolled her eyes. "When is he not?"
Thor smiled and kissed Frigg’s cheek. “You look well, mother.”
She touched his face. “I wish I could say the same of you, but-” She stopped and looked over his shoulder. She smiled.
“Mingle and talk to someone new tonight, all right? For me?”