a woman's scorn and sorrow
Karnilla had fought not for Asgard but for the man she had loved. The sorceress had always thought herself above the golden realm, superior in her own domain. But for Balder, the Queen of Norns would do just about anything. Her loyalty was that much certain. Even if Balder did not love her, even if he had chosen the dark-haired daughter of Asgard or the healer of flaxen tresses, Karnilla would do just about anything for Balder as she would to obtain him. But she already knew she would not obtain him today.
She already knew he was dead.
She could have stopped fighting. She could have. No purpose of staying in Asgard remained for Karnilla as long as the god of light and prophecy was dead. Yet, she stayed. Why did she stay? Did Karnilla think this was what Balder might have wanted? Or had rage consumed the Norn Queen so much that the thought of fleeing was far forgotten and replaced with a woman's sorrow, a woman's vengeance?
But even in her vengeance, she recognized her. The healer with the flaxen tresses. The Lady Nanna, is what she had been called. She knew this was Balder's new woman, his new lady love. It sickened her to see the woman. How it sickened her to see someone in the place that she should have been! She had a thought to use her in the future as leverage to get Balder, but with Balder gone, that plan did not serve as much purpose as it would to keep that woman alive. Let her rot, she thought. But would that not, in essence, allow precious Nanna to reunite with Balder? The nerve of that woman. Even in death, she would seek to ruin her. And Karnilla would never have peace. It seemed the Fates were against her.
But not today.
She saw a fiend come to the woman from behind, steel in hand. Nanna would die. She would die and Karnilla should have been happy and proud. But instead, and for the strangest of reasons, dread took hold of the queen instead. She wanted the woman to die, yes, but on Karnilla's terms--no one else's. If she died here, now, and in this way, it served no purpose to her. And Karnilla did not bow to cheap victory.
She meant to warn the woman. She meant to shout, to yell. For Balder, she told herself. This was what Balder would have wanted--for his love to be saved. As much as it pained her, this was what he would have wanted, and Karnilla had no desire for Balder's death--or any wishes he may have had with his last breaths--to be in vain. But before she could so much as scream, her throat was slit.
All she remembered was the stinging sensation, the pain, and the darkness.
And the darkness is all that remained.
