for "mini_nanowrimo" hence no friends lock 7
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I think I might be onto something here. . .
The Beginning of the End of the Golden Age of Asgard
Hod the Blind is being sentenced to death. The Aesir and The Vanir have united their clans already and agreed. It did not even take one day to think about. The rules are such that blood shall not be spilt in their holy place, Gladsheim, the Gods' meeting hall. It was. So much blood. The arrangements are being made right this minute; for a funeral, a slaying and another funeral. Frigg is already weeping for the death of two of her sons.
Balder is dead. The details are foggy for most, crystal clear for a select few. A last plea attempt for his life is being made but it will not come to pass.
Hel has already been given a script to follow and she knows all too well what her fate will be if she does not go through with it. There is a part of her that, even though Odin banished her from life among The Aesir, desperately wants their approval. She so badly wants, not to be welcomed back, but respected as an equal and not out of fear for her realm. She awaits the arrival of the pity party, Hermod the Great warrior. She tells Odin’s wolves, her hound dog gate keeps, Freki and Geri, to keep an ear out for the many footfalls of Sleipnir.
"Give a howl," she jokes, her laugh tinged with hysteria. She places her dead hand at her throat, the cool stiffness of it is reassuring to her. If her heart still beat, it would be pounding.
Odin is sitting alone on his throne, Hlidskjalf, in his palace. He has played his part perfectly. He kept his silence. He did as The Norns asked of him and his son, the most beloved of all the Gods, is dead. He will not see him alive again for he too knows the fate to come. Yet there is something troubling him about how things are proceeding. He knows the rules agreed upon by his Aesir and The Vanir clan but it is off putting than one innocent death should cause another. Too much focus is being placed on old traditions and Odin can see now that the worlds are changing. The change has already begun and he does not see why there should be anymore pointless bloodshed.
He sits up straight and it comes to pass that he has talked himself into something fantastic. This was not in the cloth weaving he stood before ages ago (although it probably is now). He grins through his grief and yes there is a little madness in his one good eye. If traditions are passing and he can think up acts not foretold then he can change what is to come. It is too late to save Balder and for that his heart will always hold sorrow but he will not abandon another, more vulnerable, son in need. He stands and storms out of his palace to stop his son Vali from a horrible mistake.
Hod is being held in a room in the Gladsheim hall. It is small and kept chill, usually a storage room to keep kegs of mead easy at hand. Hod does not mind the cold and it is no darker than usual for him. He sees nothing at all behind his eyelids. He sits atop an empty keg, legs crossed and thinking about all the time Balder was good to him. There are a lot of memories to sort through. A part of him wants to be out with the others, his mother, and share in the grief openly but none but Balder would really know what to say to him. His darkness and his inabilities have always kept the others at bay. It was only his brother who brought the sun to him; he could speak to him in such a way that his heart would feel a little lighter. Sorrow washes over him, he cannot fathom that he will never see him again. He cannot comprehend that he is the one who caused such grief and turmoil in Asgard.
Time passes in some unknown way. Hod opens and closes his eyes. It makes no difference but it is a game he has played with himself since he was a small boy. He may have been asleep. He does not know, nothing has changed and everything has changed. He tilts his head, listening but there is no sound. He has heightened senses and he sniffs the air. There is only the sharp smell of honey mead, spilled over the ages and he is grateful. He wants to know if he can still smell Balder’s blood on the floor.