Baldur and Hela
So iāve been thinking a lot about Norse mythology because I have literally nothing better to do, and I thought of a re-imagining of Baldurās death so here we go I guess.
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So Baldur dies, right. Very sad. God of peace, compassion, love, probably puppies, and heās dead. Very sad. Whatās worse, because he didnāt die in battle, he goes to Helheim, the icy and cold land, where the unglorious dead go.
And there, he meets Hela, the grim Goddess. Half a corpse, a dead heart in her chest. She rules this icy land where there is no hope, no light, and no love.
Except, now there is.
Now, this glorious shinning light of compassion and love has descended down into these icy depths, and brought with it the first ray of sunlight Helheim has ever seen. A kind, and good soul, a God of Love.
Hela cannot stand. She loathes the sight of the the thing, hates the tight feeling in her chest when she sees him. The unnatural throbbing in her dead heart as she looks upon something that doesnāt belong in this hopeless land.
Hela rages at Asgard. Demands that they take this damnable light away. Demands that they leave her alone in her cold, familiar apathy. Sheās not like her brother, not like Fenrir, who craved love and companionship. She is a dead thing. A thing that cannot be loved, and loves nothing.
So the Gods make preparations, struggle to find a way, and Hela is alone. Alone with her complete opposite. Hela is dread, hateful and cold. Baldur is light, kid and considerate.
But time passes, as she waits, she engages with him. They talk. She comes to know him. And she grows to ha(love)te him even more. He is not repulsed by her dead flesh. He smiles, and she feels the sun on her skin. Her good eye waters with tears. He gives her space when she desires it. He comes close when she needs it.
Hela hates it. She hates how he comforts the souls of her domain. She hates how he makes her smile. Hates how he makes the world seem just a little bit brighter.
She hates that she is coming to dread the day he will leave.
She hates the unnatural beating of her dead heart.
She hates that the Gods were so cruel as to taunt her with this. So cruel as to send something she was never meant to have to her realm. Is she not Hela? The grim Goddess? Destined to forever rule her icy realm of pain and misery alone?
The day comes, and all thing weep for Baldur. Even Loki, the architect of his death, weeps as well, deciding that the joke has gone far enough, weeps for Baldur. Even Hela weeps, from her one good eye. She weeps that he must leave her. That he must darken her realm with his absence.
And yet, he remains.
Go! She screams at him. Go, and leave me! You were never for this place. You were never for me!
And still Baldur does not go.
Why, why, why does he taunt her so!? Why does he stay when all thing weep for him to return?
Baldur reaches forward, ad wipes the tears from Helaās face. And speaks in a voice that is as the birdsong in the trees.
I came here, and I saw a woman who took up a duty no one else would shoulder. I came here, and saw a woman stronger than even Thor and Tyr, willing to endure an eternity of loneliness, if only it meant giving shelter to the unwanted dead. And I saw a woman of insurpassable beauty, unlike any creature above or below.
How could I not fall in love with such a creature?
In the end, Baldur did not stay in Helheim through any machination of Odin, or trick of Loki. In the end, much stronger shackles bound him than any other band of iron and steel.
In the end, Baldur stayed through his own choice. In the end, he stayed in Helheim, bringing light and joy to the souls there, for a very simple reason.
In the end, he stayed with the woman he loved, whoās heart finally found a reason to beat.
