Chapters Entry One
Is it... one-two-three... there. I look at the quill and feel more relief than I want to: I dislike how this version of 'magic' performed by the ponies is both so simplistic and so ridiculous at the same time. It frustrates me: so-called King of Valhalla, glorified administrator of Heaven, and here I'm stuck wearing the guise of the bastard child of horse and narwhal.
Alright, alright, the enchantment is clearly holding, so I should introduce myself. I am Kvasir, and I am recording my thoughts because... I don't know how to phrase it. I told myself I would tell the truth, I would not hold back, I would... and here I am, choking up already. How I have failed the Aesir... no wonder I'm nothing but a lackey and a laughingstock.
I want to defend myself. I want to... cry out, and say all these... I can't find the words. I grab my face, turn around, cross the room. My hands squeeze into these equine features, soft but stony fingers slide against this... thick horse hide I've veiled myself in. I look up, and look in the mirror, and I look almost like them: a brightly colored, stupid little horse, with that obnoxious horn sticking out of my head through my mane.
I touch the knot of my tie, study the half-suit I wear: even if I walk on two legs and have hands instead of hooves, I still look as stupid as any of these other ponies. They wear clothing mostly for status and for style. I look like I'm trying to retain some false sense of dignity in this dress jacket and vest and silken shirt, like I'm... oh by the All Father, I look like a joke!
I want to punch the mirror, but... what would that solve? No. In control. Get in control, and calm down, and... explain yourself, Kvasir. Tell the truth now. Telling the truth is the only thing you can do now... perhaps the only way you can hope to make a difference, and the only thing you have the time left to try.
I look in the mirror... and my eyes widen, because in the reflection I see my mistake, glaring at me over my shoulder. I turn around too late, and his claws grasp my throat, and shove me backwards, and he pins me against the mirror. It hurts. Oh, how it hurts. I'm scared and my heart is thudding and there's nothing I can do as I look down into those godawful emerald eyes of his...
He's snarling. He's not happy. His silver claws squeeze tighter as that... that awful black ooze sweats out of his veins. He stinks, of rot and supremacy and animal musk, but when he speaks, his voice is... calm, and almost cultured, and how... unnatural it sounds... “We are not happy, flesh puppet.”
Flesh puppet... even through my fear how angry that makes me. But when I talk... my voice... I'm nothing but a whimpering coward. “I... please be patient. I... saved you, didn't I?”
“You have learned nothing from us. You are not ruling well. You are not doing what we asked.” he says... 'he.' As if that's suitable to describe this thing. It's not a 'he.' It's so much more than a 'he.' And yet... it's literally... it shouldn't exist! “You owe us.”
“We owe each other.” I manage out, and the thing's claws leave my throat as it tosses me down like... like garbage. But that's what I am to it: angry as he makes me, bleeding that godawful black ooze or not, even if I wasn't so terrified of him I couldn't stand up to him. I think he's dying... but that's just making him angrier.
All the same, my words managed to... I don't know. I don't know if I touched what little sense of sanity is inside that awful broken monstrosity, or if he just got bored. Gymbr does what he pleases, and I'm helpless to do anything about it... why did I bring him here? What have I done?
He's looking at me. He looks at me like a giant hawk would eye some measly little worm on the ground, deciding if it's worth his time to bother eating or not. It's not the claws or that stringy, ugly mane or the reeking black sweat that makes him so horrible... it's those vile eyes. Those eyes that just devour you, see through you, glow like... like hellfire. Punish you , like hellfire.
He doesn't speak. He just... he's there, and then he's gone, and there's just... black ooze left behind on the floor, a faint and steaming mess. He's there and he's gone and oh, why did I ever do this... Odin forgive me, forgive me for what I've brought to Valhalla, but I thought... I thought that I could control him...
I pick myself slowly up, and look over my shoulder, breathing quietly. The mirror is cracked, and I see my own face reflected back at me a dozen times in a dozen different broken lenses. I shiver and turn away and clench my hands into fists, and... hate myself, more than I fear Gymbr.
I know. I need to start at the beginning. I need to get my thoughts in order and start over. This is no way to begin a confession... or maybe it's the perfect way. I don't know, I'm no writer, no bard or poet. I am only... only a lonely administrator.
My name is Kvasir. I am in charge of maintaining Valhalla and Asgard. And I am a fool who has put everything I was left in charge of at risk, out of hubris, stupidity, and cowardice. And I don't even know how I can ever hope to say that I'm sorry for what I've done, or confess all the sins I'm guilty of.
After refreshing myself, I feel... more confident in beginning this narrative, and how I should go about this. First and foremost, I am an administrator: doing my job depends on me retaining a comfortable distance from my work. I cannot get emotionally involved or allow myself to consider bland little feelings. I have to look at everything as it affects everything else, as mathematical values. I have to view everything as data to be processed and sorted, according to what's most beneficial in the long term for my charges.
I'm often looked at as... cold, or uncaring, by the annoying ponies I've been tasked with looking after. Well, if I truly didn't care, I'd let them all happily prance off into oblivion instead of putting up with their constant whining and complaining and everything else. Believe me, nothing would suit me more than just leaving to find some quiet corner in Vanaheim, where I could ignore all the stupid ponies and Nibelung and everything else I have to deal with, and placidly read a book while they... fornicate and feast themselves all to death.
But I can't. I was given this task by Odin, and little as I like to admit it, I take... a certain pride in my work. My job might mostly be politics and playing the role of irritated schoolteacher to these wretched, spoiled brats, but... I understand why Odin was fond of them.
And that is why I want to... to record my thoughts, and my actions. I suppose there's some... irony or justice or something else bitterly-entertaining in the fact I'm using some spell devised by some mortal unicorn to do this, though. But it's useful: the enchanted quill writes my thoughts for me and records many of my actions as I make my way through the day. I suppose later I'll have to edit things, but... I have promised myself already that... I will not hide what I have done.
As I walk through the halls of Valhalla, I reflect on this: I just wanted to try and make this place safer, after all. Valhalla, once the Hall of Warriors, once the proud seat of the Warrior Gods... now? Now it looks more like a daycare center.
That feels unfair. There are... Valhalla is still strong. The ponies... much as I loathe them sometimes... well, I wouldn't be here if they weren't worth protecting. I wouldn't have accepted this mission if I didn't see that spark. How can they be so fascinating and frustrating all at once? How can I hate them so much, yet cloak my own shape in something similar to their form like... like god paying tribute to the damned idiots who are supposed to be looking up to him?
That's a joke. Me, worthy of prayer and praise: I suppose that's up there with imagining a day where everything work flawlessly and there aren't any complaints, or I'm able to take an hour off without some idiot setting something on fire or starting a fight.
I look around at these golden halls. We've worked so hard over the last few decades... we've made so many changes, we've... restored so much of Asgard. I am... I'll never, ever admit this to anyone while I'm still alive, but I'm proud of them, and of myself, for what we've accomplished together. We've started to replant the massive forests of Vanaheim. Asgard no longer bears the scars of the battle she saw. Valhalla is slowly becoming its old self... the beautiful halls Odin told me stories about while he was alive. Oh, I just want... I... just want to honor Odin's memory, to do the right thing...
I thought... I don't want to defend myself, no. Or talk about how even now, I go through day after day without telling anyone, confessing only on this paper what I've done. And not even writing it myself, letting the magic quill write it for me. I feel... I want to maintain some kind of control. I have to try and fix this myself. I have to try and set things right, even if... I'm recording all this just in case something happens. Just so if I do... it something happens, whoever finds this will know my story.
I'm stalling. I'm stalling again. But I can't get my mind to focus, even though I'm sitting here, alone, in my quiet place. I'm looking around, and I see all these things: grass and stone and water and all the little pieces that make up Valhalla, yet I can't even put them all together in my mind. They're all just... these separate elements, not mixing together but standing apart. Like a jigsaw puzzle that I can't make fit together; that even when I do manage to get the pieces all in place, the image it forms... it doesn't make sense.
How do I start? I swore I'd tackle this as I would any other administrative task, straightforwards and simple. That I'd think of it as nothing but an unveiling of facts and figures, but... this is personal. Thinking of what I've done as 'data,' as if I can disregard the impact my actions are going to have...
Start at the beginning. Start at the beginning, Kvasir. Everyone's going to know eventually, and this is... this is your time to cleanse yourself... myself. Even if all I've gone and done is proven that I'm not up to this task.
I don't... know who's going to find this, or read this. I don't know who you are, and I probably never will: I'm planning on keeping these sealed away, so my hope is that they'll fall into the right hands... or hooves, as it may be. I have no doubt if something happens to me, one of the old Valkyries will insist on checking out what's going on... if that happens, then eventually these papers will end up with Freya, who will... understand best what's happened, and is one of a rare few who I trust to truly make the best of whatever might happen.
But I'm not the kind of person to trust in luck or fate: neither have ever been kind to me. So let me first settle my nerves by trying to impress upon you the importance of what you're reading. If I... disappear... without me, Valhalla will be left without an administrator, without a ruler. And if Valhalla is left without a ruler, it will begin to lock itself down. The fields will stagnate, the gates to the castle will seal themselves, the air itself will... sicken. Another cunning trap of Odin's, to prevent Valhalla from ever falling into enemy hands.
There are precious few who can take my place in the throne. And the duties are tremendous: to save Midgard, and these stupid, insufferable ponies, Odin used the last of his powers as a god to make ninety-nine reflected and refracted copies. They are a maze of Midgards, all very different and very much the same as the core world they protect, that acts as the keystone that binds our universe together. If the Core World collapses, all other physical worlds will follow. For a time, Heaven and Hell will continue to exist... but both of these spiritual worlds depend on the existence of the physical worlds, as anchors that supply us with a constant influx of spiritual energy. All of our planes are in symbiosis: if one dies, so will everything else, and our universe will collapse into the Void.
It's a difficult concept even for me to comprehend. When Odin first told me, I scoffed at the thought... even though in a sense, I already knew it was true. There was... I was once held prisoner by... a terrible entity named Valthrudnir. He was of the Jötnar : the eternal enemy of the gods. Their leader was Ymir, who made war on Odin but... whether or not he was a barbarian, his interest was only in overthrowing the gods, not total destruction. When he was killed, the Jötnar dispersed. Many were hunted down, while others vanished... but Valthrudnir...
Valthrudnir was the one who destroyed Valhalla, many, many years ago. Valthrudnir killed the Aesir and the Vanir, and stole Odin's powers. Valthrudnir was the enemy, and his only interest was in creating a universe of perfect order, where everything followed the laws and rules that he set, where he was in complete control.
And in a sick, twisted way, Valthrudnir made me who I am today, both literally and figuratively. He wanted a living trophy to declare his victory over the gods: I was the result, created from... blood and body parts and... no, I don't want to think about it. I hate thinking about it, that... that glass trophy box, helpless inside it and listening again and again and again to Valthrudnir recounting how many gods he killed, all the victories he stole, how he... pieced me together, as a testament to his self-described omnipotence...
I shiver, I grasp my head, I touch this false horse-hide body. Again, I wonder... I'm supposed to be a god, but what is a god, anyway? Really, all I am is some... stitched-together meat, with magical blood running through my veins. And yet that's still preferable to some of the other gods I've seen: craven cowards who abuse their own charges instead of protecting them, and slovenly fools who can't manage their own eating habits, much less nations.
'God:' what an awful word. I'm supposed to wear it like some... grand title, and like any grand title, it doesn't seem to mean anything. I've seen gods as mighty as any Jötnar , transforming the world around them with... with a flick of their fingers or a thought. And I've seen gods weaker than I am, and I am myself little more than a glorified hack.
I don't want to be me.
I'm sorry, I don't know... where that came from. This narrating is going to take some... getting used to. Trying to write this all down, I... I thought it would be simple to keep a coherent text, easy as any agenda I've ever made, but my thoughts are simply poured out in one boiling stew, and I'm left feeling... naked, and stupid.
But this is important, so please. Please try and level with me, while I... I try and work out all the little details. While I try and make this... make sense, and give some order to the chaos of my thoughts. While I try and find the courage to stop being a coward.
That's what got me into this mess in the first place, after all... cowardice. Well, that and arrogance. A combination I know proved ruinous for Odin as well, although it led him to doing the opposite. Driving away all his own allies, starting a war, while I made the mistake of... taking in something I thought would help protect us. That I... I sympathized with. I am not without emotions, after all, and I know what it's like to be nothing but a puppet and a toy... Gymbr, whatever the creature is... we share similar beginnings. Another toy, created years ago by the Norns...
Again, I'm... frustrated to realize that you may have no idea what I'm talking about. But in summary, even before I was freed, Odin did not leave the world without protectors. He threw pieces of slain gods and guardians alike to Midgard: some were scraps that infused creatures already there, blessing them with new strength, while others had enough spiritual essence and strength that they were born anew. And a rare few, Odin managed to grant a complete rebirth... Freya, Thor, and ever-frustrating Brynhild chief among these.
Valthrudnir, meanwhile, was continually trying to find his way to the Core World, mainly by destroying every layer of reality he came across, while adapting others to his own schemes and machinations. He performed many experiments and created things far, far more dangerous than a trophy homunculus like myself: things like the Tyrant Wyrms, world-destroying parasites that produce a poison known as the Clay of Prometheus; like Valthrudnir's Clockwork toys, mechanical soldiers and machines designed to corrupt, infiltrate, and destroy worlds; like Decretum, his crowning glory, his world that reflected the ultimate law and order he wanted to create.
Many years ago, Valthrudnir was destroyed... but all the same, his plans kept moving forwards. Brynhild and her husband went there, and accompanying them was... Gymbr. Gymbr, their dark reflection in many ways, a... a Tulpa that became too strong, too real, and gained its own reality. A creature from a storybook, written by the Norns, self-described Fates... it's difficult even for me to explain. I am a homunculus, my creation is based in the physical, in... flesh, and bone, and genetics, and... surgeries that make me shudder when I think of them. Gymbr was an idea that simply became... real one day.
And maybe that's what truly defines Gymbr by his self-proclaimed title of 'god.'
Maybe out of all us gods, Gymbr is the only one who truly creates and fits the definition. And that is precisely why, after I chose to quarantine the sick, infested world of Decretum... I took some time to travel there myself with the research teams, with a hope that... I don't know.
It's funny. I thought I'd be coherent. In every book I've read, the narrator is perfect, precise, near omniscient. He not only knows his subject, but offers insight even to the other characters. And I, the so-called King of Valhalla, can't write down... think down... oh whatever, I can't compose a single sentence without sounding like as big a babbling moron as that baffling oaf Discombobulation. I never thought I would one day compare myself to a moronic Draconequus... any more than I'd wish for the ridiculous lack of self-consciousness that idiot Scrivener Blooms displays in his writing.
I had many reasons at the time that I gave for the week of exploration and experience in Decretum, in the safety of the few able-bodied Knights and the support of my handpicked field team. I said that my abilities would let us better explore many of Valthrudnir's higher-security zones, and it did. I said that I would be able to translate and understand any research logs we came across, and I could. I told them that I had a personal stake in all this, and to this day, I still do.
But none of those were the real reason. There was only this... sensation, calling out to me. Urging me to come and see. Not to face my fears or indulge my curiosities, but it was a compulsion. It was almost like... it wasn't my choice, something else was calling to me, pleading with me... ordering me. I had to be there: I felt that.
The entire time we were there, I felt... I felt alone. I remember walking around in the encampment, and barely acknowledging the others. But it was like they weren't even there: unless I concentrated on them, I could barely hear their voices. And the atmosphere of that black world, that wretched, hellish place... it whispered dark thoughts into my mind.
Violence, despair, lust for power? No. Not that kind of darkness. Not savage and primal... that honestly would have been almost welcome. It was something far more sinister, something far worse... it was like it was telling me Valthrudnir's plans for order, and I couldn't help but acknowledge his genius. The world was scarred and ugly and desolate, yes, but everything had a place. Everything had rules and order, and followed their set parameters. It was terrible, but it was not without... reason.
I felt, in my mind, admiration for the monster that had once held me captive, and made me recite and act out the deaths of his enemies for his amusement. And for one brief second that I wish had never, ever happened, that I wish I could forget... I longed for the Jötnar , so I could hear his ideas, and felt... respect, for what he was trying to achieve.
I never, ever want to feel that way again. Even if it was for only a brief moment, a single second... I spent too long basking in the shadow of someone who only knows how to destroy. I can never, ever allow myself to think like that again. I can't and I won't.
I remember... how sick I felt to my stomach when I realized what I had been thinking back then. I remember... leaving, to get some privacy, heading to my tent... and ending up somewhere else. Like somewhere along the way I closed my eyes for a moment and lost myself. Like instead of reality, I opened my eyes on a dark and terrible dream.
That was when I met Gymbr. I knew about him from the accounts of Freya and her kin, and the other ponies who had made contact with the entity. Odin himself had several notes on the being, which I have examined time and time again, hoping for a little more insight, a little more... hope. But by now, I have very little. I even read that ridiculous story that the Draconequus told and Scrivener Blooms recorded, 'Because Love Conquers All,' but that offered little insight.
Gymbr knew me, and knew my strengths and weaknesses: to put it in simpler terms, he understood that apart from a few magic tricks I have few ways to defend myself, especially in such a hostile environment as... where I was. Even now, I'm not sure if it was reality or just my own savaged mindscape where we first met: I just know that his claws felt as real there as they did against my flesh less than an hour ago.
He overpowered me with ease, and held me down... but he did not kill me, no. He stepped back after a moment, and I felt... pity for him. Foolish, stupid pity: he was wounded, and emaciated, and bleeding that black poison he still sweats out of his pores. He was in pain, and I could almost taste his anger... and he humbled himself before me. I think now it was only to buy my trust, not true humility... but back then, I was stupid.
I'm not like Brynhild and her family, with her freakish luck for... knowing when to offer the open hand – hoof, I should say, with how content she is in her new body – and when to smite with the closed fist. And I was not thinking with my logical mind... a very rare occurrence, for a person in my position. But this awful, wounded thing...
I realize now, thinking back on it... it wasn't just pity. I knew what Gymbr was. I knew he was a god, a real god, a powerful god. A Tulpa, that supposedly went with Luna Brynhild and Scrivener Blooms to Decretum to try and redeem itself... and he offered to help me. To protect Valhalla. How could I say no to that? I needed something that fearsome, and that powerful... not for my own sake, but to keep Heaven safe.
After all, while the ponies and mortals and the other residents of Heaven spend most of their time trampling around, enjoying all the luxuries of the afterlife, I am hard at work, and so are many of the Knights and soldiers. At least, the real warriors, not the drunken children that fill the feast halls. We have taken over the divine territory of Warrior Gods, and no longer have the protection and wisdom of Odin to guide us. There are many enemies at our gates: from Helheim to other gods to things far more dangerous and cunning... and I... I am no warlord.
But Gymbr is. And I thought I could... control him? No. I thought I could manage him, like I've managed Valhalla for years, like I've dealt with everything from the Valkyries to Hel. I thought I could delegate and administrate him into being a non-problem. And when he bowed to me, and pleaded for sanctuary, and told me that he wanted to hide away... how could I be such an idiot?
I let this thing into Valhalla, this... dying, wounded thing, that spent years being basted in Decretum's poisons. This thing that... hid itself in the shape of a harmless child's toy so I could tuck it away in one of the equipment bags, and ensure it was brought back with us. We shut down everything we could in Decretum, gathered all kinds of information, but... none of it I paid any attention to. Instead, all I had eyes for was Gymbr.
Valhalla has many secret places, some which can only be accessed by those with the correct blood... and as I am made up from samples of all the Aesir, my blood works like a skeleton key, opening every door, unlocking every hidden shrine. It gave me access to the dark, deep dungeons beneath the castle, which Gymbr has converted with his seemingly-infinite power into a strange and... uncomfortably-familiar research facility.
And Gymbr... moves with ease throughout Valhalla. It seems like he can teleport himself between any location he's been before as he pleases, ignoring any... wards or barriers or anything else in place to stop exactly that from happening. I truly can't say I understand the god, only that I... I'm a little more afraid of him with every passing day.
But something is wrong with Gymbr, too... he's unstable, physically. It's like he's rotting, from the inside out, but it's only made him... more sly, more dangerous. Maybe even more powerful. I know why he was so eager to come with me, why he faked subservience to me: it was because he thought being in Valhalla would help stabilize him. It hasn't, though: all his time spent locked away in Decretum... it did something to him.
I look up: I don't know how long I've spent here, trying to get my thoughts in order. Trying to explain myself. I feel confused and lost... and when I raise my eyes, I feel scared, too. Because Gymbr is here. Gymbr is sitting across from me on the other side of this quiet little shrine, in his own little pool of shadows. He watches me with those... those awful eyes... but he's sane, at least. I'm glad to see that.
“You know we do not mean our violence. It is our... sickness.” Gymbr says softly, and there's that pleading honesty in his voice... but oh, Mimir's head, is it really honesty? Or is he just trying to manipulate me? I want to believe that he's speaking the truth, but... I've learned that this creature always has his own selfish motives in mind. Even those he's kind to... they end up as his victims, in one way or another.
He notices my hesitance. He smiles at me, and it makes me think of a manticore that's playing with its prey. “We do not blame your fear of us, Kvasir. But do not think we are ungrateful to you, for what you have done. You have kept us secret, kept us safe, provided us with what we need to remain stable. We appreciate what you continue to do for us.”
“I don't know what you want me to say. That I accept your apology?” I ask, my voice pessimistic, sour, fearless... almost the exact opposite of what I'm feeling right now, which is mostly a mix of naïve, stupid optimism and gut-wrenching, whimper-inducing terror. But I've always been good at putting up a front: it comes with the territory.
Gymbr laughs quietly and shakes his head. And I feel those eyes on me... sizing me up, constantly calculating and recalculating, but not like I would or a machine would, oh no. Gymbr doesn't care about logic or strategy: only about overriding all sense and order with chaos and emotions. Gymbr doesn't care about the means, or pride or honor or anything except... achieving its ends.
And yet all the same, here I am, trying to... to make friends with this savage beast! But I only have a moment to hate myself before Gymbr asks gently: “May we make a suggestion?”
It's amazing to me how even that sounds like an order. How even when it talks in a way that's... supposed to be humble and nice, it sounds... ominous. In fact, it sounds downright... evil. And I'm also amazed... or disgusted, maybe, I think that works better... that I can't hide my interest. That I can't help but ask, however angry my voice sounds: “What?”
And by the All Father, I know he knows. I know Gymbr sees right through me. I know he already knows what I'm going to do, how I'm going to respond... perhaps even before I know myself. He's nothing but instinct and emotion, after all, and no matter what I act like... I am no machine. I may be a puppet, but Valthrudnir designed me to feel pain, and suffer, to have the same emotions as the creatures he conquered... so he could delight all the more in making me reenact their pain.
I look up, and Gymbr smiles at me. He knows. He knows, and again I feel like a little mouse in the claws of a manticore. And those eyes... the way his gaze is locked on me. The way he studies me... I feel like he could do anything he wanted to me, to beautiful Valhalla, to this entire universe, and maybe no one could stop him. Maybe not even the Valkyries could stop him... that makes me shiver.
It makes it all the more surprising, too, when the god Gymbr suggests in that cunning and honest way of his: “Perhaps you would feel more comfortable with us, if you had more of a measure of control. And perhaps our mind would not break so easily if you had a method by which to harm us.”
I study him, warily. I feel a shiver run down my spine, fearing already... what the cost of such a 'gift' as this could be. And god... I feel so stupid and naïve for the part of me that still wants to trust this creature, as I ask slowly: “What do you mean, Gymbr?”
“It is simple, Kvasir. Like all things, we have a flaw, a weakness. We shall share this with you... we shall do more, as a matter of fact. We shall give you the means by which to control us. You desired to find a powerful guard dog for Valhalla, and we do not blame you for intending us as such: you saved us from Decretum, and kept our secrets. In return, how have we repaid you?” The creature gestures with one of its deformed front claws. Claws that used to be able to disguise themselves as hooves, but no more.
He likes to talk. I know better than to interrupt: he's just like Valthrudnir this way. All these big, fancy words that don't mean anything, crammed together to show off his intellect, his superiority, his... 'mastery,' I suppose. He disgusts me. But I keep myself as neutral as possible, as he continues in that voice that can't quite hide the... animal growling beneath every word... “We must ask you a favor, of course. You must fetch for us an orb of soulstone. It must be perfect, and it must be made in Helheim, but treated with holy energies. There is only one goddess who can create this object.”
“You want me to strike a deal with Hel. And then what?” I ask, feeling disgusted. I pretend it's disgust for the creature, but really, it's disgust for myself, because I'm already considering this... this madness it's asking me. By Ymir, that kind of artifact... “Even supposing I do manage to strike a bargain with that lunatic goddess, why would I hand over such a powerful object to you?”
“Because it will give you a method to exert influence over us.” Gymbr replies gently, and I know it's not lying... but even with how gullible and stupid the creature makes me feel, I also know it's not telling the whole truth. “We do not blame you for your suspicions. We have not warranted much faith. But that is exactly what we desire to remedy with this.”
“Why would a self-proclaimed god, a creature as strong as you are, want to be put on a leash?” I question quietly, daring to meet that thing's poison gaze. But Gymbr smiles. I sense somehow that... Gymbr approves. And oh, Helheim, am I... proud of myself for gaining it's appreciation? Am I really that pathetic? Or am I that desperate, not for acknowledgment, but for this whole charade not to be... one giant mistake?
“It is what we owe you. And we do not do it for your benefit... we do it for our own.” Gymbr replies steadily, and I'm... I can't help but be interested. I really don't want to be, but I am all the same. Especially as he continues: “We require the strength of another to keep us in check. We require... a purpose. Right now we feel as if we are only a forgotten piece of story: perhaps that is why we are... in the state we are in, despite escaping what was meant to be our grave.”
Gymbr slowly gestures at himself, at the dark gunk spilling out of his pores, reeking of rot. At the fact his body has gained the slightest shiver. I look at him, and he looks back, his emerald eyes ripping into my very soul as he continues quietly: “You have reason to trust us, Kvasir. You need us, as we need you... the air of Valhalla and your own blood are what help us stay stable. And we desire to protect. To do good. To continue to make up for our past wrongs... so we offer you this measure of control over us, in the hopes that it will revive our strength. It will give us the purpose we require to be stable and coherent.”
I'm silent. My heart is thudding in my chest, and I'm... I'm scared. I'm so scared, and I don't know why. And somehow, my fear only worsens, even when this... thing adds: “We do not want to hurt anyone: this will allow you to control and punish us when necessary.”
I try to think. But oh, it's so... tempting. I mean, how could the creature be lying to me? How could this be anything but the truth, right? I... I know this is stupidity, but... I can't help but...
I shake myself out. I fight off that stupid naivety, look up, and ask in the coldest tone I can manage despite how
Gymbr doesn't flinch, doesn't even look surprised. It... it smiles, if anything. For a few moments, there's silence, and then he replies with an answer I didn't expect: “Because you will be implanting the one thing that can hurt us directly into our body. Soulstone, inundated with holy energy: a surge of blessed power from it will do great harm to us. And furthermore, you know that we are vulnerable to surges of anti-magic energies: imagine how badly such energies will hurt us if channeled through a soulstone heart.”
I shudder: that's true. And yet... something feels... terribly off. Like I'm missing something. I shift uneasily, trying to understand what it could be, and then Gymbr leans towards me and adds quietly: “We do not desire to be malicious. We are... we are fighting our nature as best we can, but again and again we find ourselves drawn back to it. We are unstable. Fix us, and give us another chance, and we shall not waste it. We promise you, that we shall play the role of Valhalla's protector... we shall be your greatest asset.”
I look down... and then I look slowly back up as a thought comes to mind, beginning slowly: “I would feel more comfortable if you would let me tell Freya and Brynhild that-”
“They must not know of our existence!” There is a terrible flare of black fire from the creature's mane and tail as Gymbr steps forwards, his eyes flashing, his rotten teeth baring in a snarl. I see the true monster that Gymbr is in that look, and I almost fall backwards, terrified as the creature advances on me. “We must not be seen by them! They cannot know we still exist!”
It stands over me, a claw seizing my tie, yanking me up towards it... and then as suddenly as its rage came on, the beast is once more calm and cordial, looking down at me almost apologetically. Except I know it's not really sorry... there's too much tenseness, wariness, and it's still standing over me. Still aggressive. Still trying to control me, as it murmurs: “We did not mean to display such rage. It was merely a moment of weakness, of the madness taking over. You know that we do not desire to be seen in this state... they will judge us. They will judge us harshly.”
I reach up and slowly pry the claws off my tie, and I scamper... I mean, I pick myself carefully up after putting a safe distance between myself and the beast. I lean back against the wall of the meditation room, letting my fingers tighten and readjust my tie. It helps relax me, as I breathe slowly in and out before Gymbr adds quietly: “And besides. What help would we have been? Our powers no longer work fully. We are prone to bouts of madness. And had Thesis known we existed, he doubtlessly would have turned his eyes to us. We are the ultimate completion of Scrivener Blooms and Luna Brynhild, after all. We are everything, made into one.”
I privately disagree, but don't say anything. Instead, I shake myself out and then mutter: “It's strange to imagine a creature like yourself being so embarrassed, Gymbr. Have you ever thought that perhaps you would be better off achieving stability to reintroducing yourself to them? I'm growing very sick and tired of these cloak-and-dagger tactics you're so fond of.”
“We are not fond of them.” Gymbr's tone is distasteful: I've clearly irritated it. This is the one subject where I can actually gain some ground against the beast, where it seems to be... uncomfortable. “We will rejoin them when the time is right. We do this for your protection as well, Kvasir: if they know that you have been protecting and healing us, do you think they would treat you so kindly?”
Inwardly I shudder to imagine the reaction of Brynhild in particular, but my voice is even when I reply: “I have a right to maintain Valhalla however I please. Besides, you've been... helpful, now and then. And I can't imagine they would do much worse to me than you do.”
Gymbr smiles at me: I don't like that he seems to like what I just said. “We are helpful. We are strong. We are working hard to rectify our past errors. And we will reveal ourselves when the time is right, when we are renewed. But for now, it is better not to create a disturbance.”
I don't know whether I agree or disagree with that. I only know that... Gymbr makes me uncomfortable with how much I want to agree with him. There's silence for a few moments, and then I finally sigh and nod, deciding it's best for now to... to try and focus on the original subject, and not let myself get distracted.
But inside me, deep inside, there's an itch. There's a sensation that I'm... missing something, forgetting something. There's this feeling I just can't describe, but... I try and ignore it as I ask: “Even if what you've told me is true... how do we implant the orb?”
“We shall do it together, so you can see that we are being honest. We will be very weak afterwards, and require a long period of hibernation... but when we awaken, we believe that our new purpose will lend us stability.” Gymbr replies, and he's eloquent, and I want to believe him, and yet... that worry inside me twists again. “Even if it does not work as we hope... you will still have a better method by which to control us.”
Something about that bothers me. All this talk of control... it's hiding something. And I am aware that Gymbr is sensitive to holy energies and anti-magic vibrations, but... why would he add to such a glaring weakness? What isn't he telling me?
But all I do is nod. I just want the conversation to be over now. I already know that even with all my misgivings, I'm going to go ahead and do what the creature asks. Out of pride as much as anything else, I think... I don't want this to have been a mistake.
I open my mouth to speak... but Gymbr is gone. I'm left leaning back against the wall, alone, the only signs that Gymbr had been here the faint stains of blackness on the floor that are already beginning to dissolve. I shudder... then jump a little when I hear a knock at the door before a voice calls: “Lord Kvasir? Meeting in ten minutes.”
“I... alright, I'll be right there. Tell Excelsior to set up the agenda and check that everyone's present.” I reply after a moment, my voice steady. One of the few things I can do reasonably well is fake being in control, even when I'm not. Sometimes people are surprised how well I play a role... but my entire life has been spent only acting out parts.
I sit for a few minutes to gather my thoughts, then pick myself up and leave. I try to focus on the positives of the situation, and decide to move on this as soon as possible... but still, something's gnawing at me. And the entire reason I started this narrative in the first place was because of... of the growing fear of what Gymbr is capable of, of what he might do. Am I just making another mistake here? Is this only serving as further testament to my foolishness?
I can only hope for the best at times like these. I can only try and push forwards through everything, and try and find the correct path. Yet my optimism feels childish, my decision to try and get what Gymbr wants feels like cowardice, and I feel like... like this is the beginning of the end. Like all of this is just another step towards... towards something I can never fix, never make up for.
I'm sorry. I only hope this is all just... paranoia and stress, from all these years trying to control something that can't be controlled, to hide the existence of a creature I do not understand and should have left in the darkness. That in a moment of weakness and sympathy, I gave a way in, and... all I can do now is try and find a way to make things right.
I'll end this first chapter here. It seems like a fitting point to stop, and I'm sure the meeting won't be all that interesting anyway. They almost never are. Much as I am forced to pay attention to every small detail of Valhalla's workings, that doesn't mean I take any enjoyment in dealing with its administration.
But a boring, simple meeting will be good right now. It will help me get my thoughts in order, and hopefully I'll be able to make this narrative a little more structured and sensical when I continue. This is no place for chaos and stupidity, after all.
I deal with enough idiocy as it is.
Entry Two
I realize that I made a grave error in the last chapter. I made an assumption, and as fate oh so gleefully likes to illustrate, any assumption I make has to be quickly proven wrong. It was an understandable one, I think, that this meeting would go smoothly and likely be as boring as possible: unfortunately, I was wrong on both those counts.
Everything started fine, of course. The twenty-member advisory council were all present, as were my personal aides, Excelsior and Aria. The agenda was laid out, and we discussed Asgard's atmosphere, the arrival ratio – a pleasant euphemism for how many mortals are dying and coming to Valhalla – and our rate of growth from other sources, such as the rare immigration from another plane and birth rate among our residents. Not that births are common, mind you: it requires ritual and luck, and I imposed 'birth licenses' as a deterrent. Babies born of the Blessed – or 'angels' as many of them refer to themselves, since so few of these annoying little ponies will listen to me when I tell them there is a vast difference between an 'angel' and a mortal who has come to Heaven from Midgard – require great amounts of care and compassion.
But all that is aside, because we were barely able to move through the first few points of the meeting before we were rudely interrupted by the most insufferable, loathsome creature I have ever met. While before she only sent her ambassadors and diplomats to harass and distract us, over the past few years this goddess of misery has taken a keen interest in being as frustrating as possible in... person, so to speak.
I'm speaking, of course, about the Queen of Helheim, Hel. She is rude, annoying, and childish... and cunning and cruel to the extreme. With the way she acts, it's easy to forget she's not just a paranoid old witch... she's a goddess with powers said to rival Odin's at his finest.
As always, there's no warning: one moment we're discussing profits, and the next the doors are flung open and Hel lets herself in. Well, not exactly Hel herself: she never leaves her throne, deep below Helheim, secure inside her sealed palace. When she wishes to make mischief, she uses an ice-golem puppet that she's able to talk and act through like it's her own body.
It's blue and crystalline, and the faintest mist of frost sparkles off it as it struts into the meeting hall, looking like a gangly, long-limbed biped. A dress of powder-blue snow wafts around her too-thin form as she grins: she has the head of a cow, with tiny horns and reedy locks and sunken, gleaming eyes in sallow features. I don't think she really has the head of a cow: I think it's an underhanded mockery of Odin's creations. But I could be wrong: Hel usually lacks any sense of subtlety.
“Hope I'm not interrupting!” she crows, shoving two of the advisers out of the way and flinging herself onto the meeting table. I can only stare as she sits right in the center of it, cross-legged, not caring about her dress half-hitched up around her waist. She's grinning, malicious and cheerful and mocking, knowing none of us can do a thing about her. “But I heard you wanted to make a deal with me, Kvasir, so I came quick as a bunny! Hop, hop, hop!”
She bounces like a child around in a circle on her rump, and I can only mouth wordlessly. My aides are both staring in disbelief and the whole council is trapped in stunned silence. But after a moment, I shake myself out and lean forwards, forcing myself to take a breath and reply in as calm a voice as possible: “Get off the table, Hel.”
“No, it's my table now. I claim this table in the name of Helheim!” Hel hops to her feet, spreading her arms wide with a bright grin, and oh how I want to strangle her. “Which I guess is kind of like claiming it in my own name, so... I hope that's not to vain. But I'm pretty enough to be vain, right, sweetie-honey-buncakes?”
She frames her own face with her hands and leans forwards, fluttering her eyelashes at me. I force myself to stay calm, not giving her the satisfaction of my anger, not wanting to act out, not wanting to encourage her to make things even worse.
Which is why I'm all the more horrified when one of the councilors stands up and shouts: “Now listen here, Hel, you are not welcome in-”
Without even glancing at the angel, Hel simply points a finger at him, and the divine being flinches as if in pain before he's covered in thick tendrils of ice. He's left immobile, mouth frozen shut, body unable to move in the slightest, and I drop my face in one hand as I close my eyes.
Hel sniffs and straightens, brushing herself off as the rest of the council remains silent. When I look up, she's smiling, her hands tented in front of herself, before she asks teasingly: “So teacher-teacher, are you going to dismiss the class? I think it's nap time for all the good little boys and girls.”
She steps forwards and leans down, pinching one of Excelsior's cheeks: my unicorn aide winces and flinches backwards, rubbing at a spot of frostbite left from the contact, and I look sourly up at Hel. But there's no winning against her, even as she pretends to beg for a moment, giving a few dog-like whimpers. She won't go away until she gets what she wants.
“Council is in recess for twenty minutes.” I say finally: it's better than making Hel temper tantrum. Not for my pride, maybe, but for everyone else. Hel beams at this and straightens, snapping her fingers to the side, and the ice trapping the angel shatters and sends him spilling to the ground. He picks himself up shakily, but leaves as quickly as the rest of the council. A small favor.
Excelsior shrinks his head awkwardly and picks up his clipboard with telekinesis to hide behind it. It's an almost admirable act of outright cowardice. Meanwhile, Aria is only keeping her gaze away, the Pegasus' head lowered as she breathes slowly in and out. I can feel how frustrated she is, and I know Hel can, too. Hel's enjoying their discomfort... my discomfort.
I look up at her: I don't believe she actually knows that I have a request for her. But on the other hand, she has no problem overcoming all the wards and protections of Valhalla. Her ridiculous ice-puppet is almost undetectable even by our most sensitive sensors, and it's said that once upon a time, Hel was a member of the Aesir herself. The archive legends say that Odin threw her out of Valhalla for how hideous she was... but her power and position both hint at a much different story.
Hel smiles at me, then she purposefully places a foot against my chest and shoves me back into my seat, making me wince before she drops to a sitting position on the edge of the table. She primly crosses her legs and laces her fingers together in her lap, looking down at me and asking kindly: “How are the ponies treating you, Kvasir? You do make a very handsome horsey. It's rather nice to see a shapeshifter who doesn't have to turn himself into a big strong man to soothe his teeny-weeny little ego. Who happens to be proud of his love of sparkly unicorns.”
She flutters her eyes at me, then reaches out and begins to teasingly play with my bangs. I only continue to glower at her, knowing she'll eventually get to the point, and trying to rush this along will only make her draw it out even more. But oh, it's hard. I cannot begin to describe the things I would do to Hel if I had the power. The things I want to blurt out, but fight to swallow back.
“Now, Kvasir, dear. Just what is it that you want my help with today, sweetheart? Do you need some more demons to help protect Valhalla, or some help dealing with those icky Pious? Is there a nasty-tempered god on the march, or are you just lonely and want to talk to your good friend Hel?” the goddess almost purrs to me through her ice-puppet. “You can tell me anything, after all. I can keep a secret. I never told anyone that Excelsior wets the bed.”
Hel pretends to blush as she covers her mouth, looking mockingly over at my aide, but Excelsior only stays resolutely hidden behind his clipboard. I roll my eyes at her childishness, then shake her hand off my head and say moodily: “And what if I do actually need your help with something, Hel?”
“Well, that makes everything different!” Hel laughs as she spins herself around: one moment she's sitting, the next she's rolled onto her back, head grinning up at me invertedly and arms spread wide to either side as if to hug me as she kicks her legs with gleeful childishness. I think my revulsion is more than understandable. “I'm delighted to hear it though, blood brother! And for a fair price, I'll give you just what you desire!”
I look at her distrustfully. I know already this isn't going to work in my favor, but all the same I force myself to stay calm, and say in as even a voice as possible: “I require an orb of soulstone, made by your own hand.”
“Ooh, really?” Hel looks interested. Too interested, as her eyes gleam and she leans forwards, licking her lips and grinning at me with those big cow teeth. “Now, that's a very specific request. And a very big one too. Which makes it double fun as much as double weird, because usually you're trying to keep as far away from me as possible. But this is quite the favor.”
Excelsior peeks out nervously from behind his clipboard, but he doesn't speak. Aria, on the other hand, looks up at me uncomfortably, and she's only silent for a moment longer before she asks quietly: “What do you need something like that for, Lord Kvasir?”
“Hey, I wanted to ask that! That was my line!” Hel whines loudly, and then she huffs and crosses her arms, sitting back up and glaring down at Aria as the Pegasus looks back up at the ice puppet defiantly. “Now don't be such a naughty girl, naughty little girl. Let's not forget, I might not do a thing to you up here, but that's only out of respect for Mr. Seriouscorn over here. And that respect definitely doesn't extend to your family down in the nasty cold place.”
Aria opens her mouth, but I reach out and grasp her shoulder quickly, stopping her from saying something I know she'll regret later. Or rather, that I know Hel will make her regret later. There's an uneasy silence for a few moments, and then Aria closes her eyes and bows her head, nodding to me once. I nod back, and return my eyes to Hel, who looks grumpy at the fact her nasty little provocation didn't work after all.
There's an uneasy few moments of silence before I finally say quietly: “Why I need it is none of your business, Hel. You and I may not see eye-to-eye on many things-”
“Because ponies are short, dear. Ponies are short.” Hel chides, reaching up and patting my cheek firmly a few times. I again have to bite back several very unpleasant remarks I want to make, as well as the urge to throw what little magic firepower I have at this... witch. “I like short men, though. Or stallions. Or whatever you prefer to call yourself, it makes no difference to me.”
She pauses, then rolls her head back and forth indecisively, humming under her breath before clicking her tongue and snapping her fingers with a wide grin. “I have the perfect idea! You set up a nice little meeting for me with Brynhild and Freya and that icky clay-pony of Valthrudnir's, and... oh, I want handsome little Thor to attend to, he's such a cutie-pie. And I'll hand-deliver you the orb.”
I look at Hel warily, but the goddess smiles and holds up her hands, saying encouragingly: “Oh come now, let's not play this game. You know that I can't lie, especially not to my equal and opposite number in Valhalla. Let's... skip the whole banter and back-and-forth, just agree, sweetie! I wanna help you out here... so long as you do me that nice favor.”
“I... I can see about arranging a meeting.” I say after a few moments: I feel grudging and hesitant, but I don't know what else to do. And I'm already fairly certain that Freya will be anxious to meet with Hel herself: she's already expressed an interest in trying to form some kind of... working relationship, so to speak, with the goddess of Helheim.
Hel looks pleased, beating a tattoo against the table as she giggles a little before leaning forwards, her eyes flashing with... no, that's not just amusement. There's a dark, terrible intellect in those windows into her soul... if Hel can even be said to possess a soul, that is. “I'm very happy you're willing to try and see things my way, Kvasir. Me and you, we can be the best of friends. You like making friends, like these silly ponies, right?”
I grimace, and I don't like what she's hinting at. But Aria leans forwards, taking Hel's attention off me as the Pegasus says sharply: “We silly ponies look out for each other, at least. And our unity gives us a bond of strength not even your mightiest demons can match.”
I admire Aria's strength: I wish I could be as brave as she is. And to think, she's relatively young for a Blessed, only a decade or so. But maybe it's youth that gives us courage... and makes us a little stupid, as I wince at the expression on Hel's face.
It's not a scowl or a snarl. It's not a look of displeasure. It's a pleased smile, before she licks her lips like a kitten that's gotten into the cream. And Aria realizes too late what she's invited in as Hel almost coos: “Oh, is that a challenge, darling, from one of Heaven's administrators? I do so love a challenge! That's why me and Vally-wally hung around and had such fun together, you know... we loved our fun and games!”
I grimace, and Aria already looks horrified, opening her mouth... but with a snap of her fingers, Hel creates some massive, oversized party hat that falls over Aria's head in a burst of confetti, cutting her off as the goddess proclaims: “Delightful! I don't hear any objections, so... once, twice, three times and you're sold! Oh, what a wonderful day, a deal with Mr. God and a chance to play game with my favoritest littlest ponies ever... est! I'm so happy I could just kill!”
Hel laughs and rocks back and forth, then she suddenly almost throws herself forwards, nearly shoving her face up against mine as she bares sharp icicle teeth in a grin. “I've always seen Heaven and Hell not like enemy nations, but... warring hockey teams. I love hockey. Don't you love hockey?”
“No.” I shove her away with a grimace, then shake my head quickly and add moodily: “Aria is a senior aide, but spoke out of turn and we all know she has no impact on-”
“It's cute how you stick up for the little girl by insulting her position. Really, you're such a protective passive-aggressive bitch.” Hel remarks with a flick of one finger, and I breathe slowly. I breathe nice and slow, in and out. “Now now, honey-bunny, don't worry about a thing. It'll just be a game, we won't play for keepsies.”
I grimace at this, looking up with discomfort at Hel. Hel is only grinning in that horrible way of hers, her eyes gleaming, not bothering to hide her excitement in the slightest. I don't really know what to say. I don't really know what to do. And Aria looks so... scared. Scared and ashamed of herself as she glances up from beneath that stupid, oversized hat Hel plopped on her head.
“Oh come now, Kvasir, don't look so down!” The goddess of the dark place reaches out and pinches my cheek, and I grimace and slap her hand away, which just makes her giggle before she continues almost soothingly: “You and me, we're the coaches, we don't have to worry about going on the field... I know, I'll stack everything in your favor, how about that? I'll wrangle me up a team of demons, choose a few sit-ins, and we'll play capture the flag. Or hostile corporate takeover, with emphasis on the takeover part.”
“You're going to attack Heaven?” Excelsior asks in surprise, sticking his head up for a moment from behind the clipboard, and then he winces and drops back behind it when Hel grins over at him, licking her lips and leaning towards the unicorn.
“'Attack' is such a nasty word. I prefer to think of it more as... oh... a friendly little airing of conflict resulting in minor bodily harm.” Hel clicks her tongue thoughtfully, then she claps her hands a few times. “And I'm only going to... friendly-air yadda-yadda-yadda Valhalla's gates. Rules is rules, and all, I'll leave the Vale and the pretty little ponies you so cherish all alonesome.”
I look up with disdain, but my hands smooth down my suit, adjust my tie: nervous tells I've never been able to get rid of, and that Hel recognizes with a grin. But I know she won't back down: the most I can hope to do is minimize the damage from this... well, this catastrophe. This is not what I need to deal with on top of everything else. “I'm already dealing with plenty of unwanted incursions from Helheim as it is-”
“No, you're dealing with rogue demons, that's all. I really have nothing to do with them, you know that.” Hel says dismissively, waving a hand quickly. “And I'm giving you a fighting chance here too, aren't I? Like I said, I'll just put together a nice little team of boys and girls. We won't even use you as the flag, Kvasir-honey. We'll use... her.”
Hel's eyes glint as she turns to Aria, licking her lips slowly, and I feel a moment of... of desperation. Of agony, as I look at Aria, who glares back at the goddess in spite of the fear in her eyes. I admire that. I admire her... and before I even realize what I'm doing, I'm already saying: “No. Aria is an aide and an assistant, that's all. Her regular duties are nothing more important than adjusting schedules and fetching documents. And we all know that I'm Heaven's figurehead. I'm the logical choice.”
Funny that I use that phrasing. The logical thing to do here would be to sit back, let Aria be the sport of Hel's games, and continue to calmly administrate Valhalla. The logical thing to do would be not to get involved and ruin Hel's fun by offering Aria up as a sacrifice... and with her dedication to Valhalla, I know she'd go willingly.
But I'm not always logical. If anything these ponies and interacting with Heaven have taught me, it's that: I'm no machine, no logician, just... what I am. Flesh and blood, mind and emotion. And I care about Aria. I do. Which is probably why it actually hurts a little that Aria looks... surprised at what I just said.
Hel is intrigued. She clearly likes my offer: in fact, it makes me uncomfortable precisely how much she seems to like what I just said. She leans forwards, licks her lips, looks almost like she's salivating at some prospect I've stupidly overlooked. “You as the prize, honeybun? Well, I'm just delighted all to... well, hell!”
She laughs at her own joke, then claps and nods a few times rapidly, her eyes gleaming. It unnerves me, to say the very least, even before she continues: “I'm just so happy to see some stupid has rubbed off on you. It's good to be stupid. You might not believe this, Kvasir, but I like to be a little stupid now and then myself too... there's quite a few things I'd be stupid for. And you know what else this is great for? This is a great trust exercise, because, you know, when my demons storm Valhalla you'll have to trust them not to eviscerate you and make daisy chains out of your insides.”
I grimace, but try to hide my fear as Hel licks her lips slowly, before she sighs and sits back,looking from one of my aides to the other. “And just look at you two sweet little things. Trying oh-so-admirably-hard not to tell your boss he's being an idiot, or let your mouths run and get you in even more trouble with little ol' me. That's sweet. Kind of like cotton candy or something. Or tea. They make sweet teas, right? I've never really been a tea drinker myself. I'm a queen but not that kind of queen, you know? Right! Exactly!”
She nods forcefully a few times, then reaches forwards and starts to play with my goddamn mane for the third goddamn time in five goddamn minutes. And I find myself absolutely, utterly hoping that when Hel meets with the Valkyries, it goes as badly as possible purely so I can watch them attempt to punch some sense into this insufferable witch through her puppet. “I like that. It makes you cuter. It makes me a little more hopeful for you. You know I'm a big, big fan of the Valkyries and what Brynhild is doing... just majestic! And you, Kvasir... I honestly do like you too!”
“So you say.” I only glare at her, reaching up and swatting away her hand again, and Hel grins in response at this like it's all part of some big joke. It's making me angrier and angrier, but I keep myself in check: I've had a lot of practice with that over the years. “What are your proposed terms?”
“Ooh, yes, talk businessy to me. That makes me so hot and bothered.” Hel sighs dreamily, putting a hand against her face as her ice puppet rapidly begins to steam, then suddenly bursts apart into water. I lean backwards with a face of disgust, but I don't flinch even when she reforms immediately, the ice puppet smiling as if nothing had happened, hands knitted together and resting over her crossed legs. “Oh fine, spoilsport. Since you don't care how... wet... you make me...” She giggles at her own joke: I do my very best to only let out the smallest hiss of frustration through my teeth. “Let's go on to the nuts and bolts.
“I'll organize an attack team, and tell my good little demons it's just a drill. Really, I'm doing you a favor by giving your new Valkyries some experience here.” Hel continues, sitting up and gesturing easily with one hand. But overall she's toned down her childishness... although that only makes me all the more worried. I don't like being reminded of the fact she's not just a lunatic: she's a smart lunatic. “Thirty demons, no more, no less. For the first wave, I mean... but don't worry honey. The first wave will be the biggest and the dumbest.”
I look at her moodily, then ask acerbically: “I can't help but wonder, does that mean your final wave is going to be a lone assassin, Hel?”
“You wound me!” Hel gives me an expression of hurt so well-faked that for a moment, I wonder if she's being honest. But then her eyes glitter, she shows those icicle teeth in another grin, and she winks down at me teasingly. “Sweetie, why would I send an assassin when I could easily kill you myself if I wanted to, right here and now?”
There's silence for a moment as Excelsior gulps behind his clipboard, and Aria snarls, but suppresses herself... and I only look calmly, coldly up at Hel as I reply quietly: “Because that wouldn't be part of the game.”
“Oh, nice answer. Very nice indeed... you definitely did spend all kinds of time around Valthrudnir, now didn't you?” Hel looks pleased with me, and it makes me feel... uncomfortable. “But sweetie-pie, listen to me, just once, okay? I don't want to kill you. I want us all to be friends, work together, like Brynhild's done on her marvelous little layer! I mean, let's face it, Helheim is nothing but one giant mess these days.”
Hel nods seriously a few times... as if that's not all her fault for the dog-eat-dog system she put in place, for the way she toys with her own subjects for her personal amusement, how she seeks to make Helheim as chaotic as possible. “I'm not really the bad guy, you know, not really. Not at all. Odin's ponies are just so cute, and the fact that all the other equus started picking up how to talk and chatter on was just so adorable... like the cows, the cows!”
She giggles and slaps her hands against either side of her face, and I just... focus on breathing, and don't let my hands try and smooth down my suit for the hundredth time since she showed up. Control, Kvasir. Control is what separates us from barbarians and beasts, monsters and fools. Not intelligence, not charm, not strength, but our ability to control ourselves...
Hel looks at me for a moment longer, then she drums a tattoo against her cheeks before continuing almost plaintively: “Now listen, honeybutt. I'm a good person, really, in my shriveled little dark nasty heart-place. I really want us all to get along, because, you know, Heaven and Hell are supposed to be buddies, not enemies.”
She pauses, then huffs at the sour look I give her. “Hey, it's true! Oh, I know, we get painted as bad people all the time, but you know... so I've let a few layers of reality collapse, big deal. I've let Gates break open and hordes of demons escape... they get their just reward, don't they? Whole layers of reality, collapsing down on different slices of Helheim, killing hundreds of thousands of demons and forcing the few strong enough to try and tear their way through my Iron Curtains. But really, that's for the best. It gives me an example of why precisely we demons don't just flood up onto the mortal world and devour everyone. No mortals, no business, means I gotta close up shop.”
“I hear that you've been making the best of those ruined layers in Helheim, all the same.” I say evenly, and Hel only smiles at me knowingly. “Your Archives... your loyalist demons, who serve as your army and Inquisitors and keeping Helheim under your control... you've been building massive institutions for them in the ruined slices. Clearing them of debris and creating gigantic, sprawling colonies...”
“Well, Mr. Seriouscorn, I thought you'd approve of that. I'm trying to add a little order amidst all the chaos, give things a little extra zest.” Hel replies cheerfully, gesturing easily with one hand. “Look at this, Valhalla. You got it easy. Most of the people are here obey authority and are interested in following all the rules. Me? All I get are the garbage, the cowards, the psychopaths and the animals. How do I work with that? By letting them weed each other out, that's how, until only the ones smart enough to take orders remain.”
There's silence for a moment, and then Hel leans forwards, tenting her fingers and continuing kindly: “But I really like what Brynhild's done. Using not just a whip, but an open hand, I admire that. I question if I really have the patience for all that, though... probably not. I just like seeing things move, you know? And oh, I hate hate hate it when my little ducklings disobey me... like... right now, there's an Inquisitor who thinks he's actually getting away with selling contraband to a stupid Pride demon. The nerve!”
Hel nods a few times, and I grimace before asking: “Then why don't you stop him? You're more than powerful enough to.”
“Yes, yes I am. But just because we have power doesn't mean we get to rain holy hell on everything.” Hel giggles a little at her pun, then clears her throat and claps her hands together. “No, I'll let him play his game for a few years. Years are a very short time to me, Mr. Seriouscorn, I've been around the block a good few times after all. I'll gather up more evidence, give him a chance to change, and wait for him to think he's gotten away scot-free with the dirty deed... and then I'll have my Inquisitors rip him into itty-bitty still-alive pieces, put those little pieces in jars, and ship him by first-class mail to all his friends and neighbors. Oh, and I'll have everyone he sold illegal imports to killed, too. I hope those sandals are worth it.”
I look up at Hel with a frown, and the faintest twitch: I know she's serious. I know she's powerful enough that she can – and will – do exactly that. And I know her Archive forces won't hesitate to carry out their duties against anyone they see as 'heretic' or 'blasphemer:' any demon that goes against Hel's will, refuses to be part of Helheim's system, has somehow escaped the ice. “Usually Brynhild is against killing, unless completely necessary. Not something I've always agreed with, but I disagree more with killing over a minor crime.”
“There's no such thing as minor crime in Helheim. There's just crime and not crime.” Hel counters, then she reaches forwards and messes up my mane, and I... I just really want to hit her. I just really want this conversation to end so she'll go away. “Besides, you and I both know it's really not the sandals I'm killing anyone over. It's the whole betrayal of trust. It cuts me, right here.”
Hel absently reaches up and makes a large cut in her chest with one finger, and I sigh and shake my head slowly. But thankfully, she gets back on subject after a moment, saying pleasantly: “I'm not gonna have you hurt, Kvasir. How about this, one of my demons just has to reach you and... give you a gentle tap, okay?”
Hel accents this by reaching out and punching my shoulder lightly, winking at me. “We'll start next week. That should give you plenty of time to set up that nice little meeting for me with the Valkyries and handsome Thor. See, everything's going to work out just fine, and for everyone involved! We can all get along just swell, Kvasir, if you just put a little faith in me.”
I sigh, but nod reluctantly: I dislike this whole charade, but I also know it's unfortunately important to keep Hel happy. If I don't help her with things, she'll stop lending her aid to me... and whether I like it or not, part of the reason Valhalla is safe right now is actually her own doing. It's funny: she won't leash the rogue demons that throw themselves at Heaven's gates, but she'll send her own personal guard to help protect Heaven. She's even stepped in herself to deal with hostile gods for me once or twice.
Her motives are all too clear, though: she wants me indebted to her, and whether she's insane or not, she has some grand master plan she's working towards, little-by-little. And unlike Valthrudnir, she doesn't want to see the layers demolished: not because of any sense of care or compassion, I think, but because then she'd lose her main source of entertainment.
She's looking at me expectantly, and I say finally: “Hold up your end of the deal and I will hold up mine. I do not want anyone killed, though.”
“Oh, fine, spoilsport. But feel free to kill my demons, that's fine.” Hel says dismissively, then she hops off the table and stands for a moment, rubbing at her chin before her eyes gleam, flicking towards me knowingly. “And no using secret weapons. Just your new Valkyries and the current defense force. We wanna keep things nice and fair after all, don't we?”
“Of course.” I say as calmly as possible, already suspecting that Hel's got some strategy in mind that very heavily involves cheating, or the use of excessive force. And like she can read my mind, she looks at me pointedly and puts her hands over her breast.
“Hey, you're not suspicious of me already, are you? I haven't even lined up my hockey team yet!” Hel whines, and then she leans forwards and puts one hand behind her back, asking seriously: “You really don't think that I'd send Teddy after you, do you?”
“Yes.” I reply blandly, continuing to look at her evenly, and Hel pastes a wounded expression on her face that tells me she was thinking about doing exactly that. Or, if she wasn't, she's definitely considering it now. And Theodore is the last thing I need entering Valhalla. “Keep your bodyguard out of this.”
“Oh, come on. Don't be such a wet bagel.” Hel huffs and waves a hand at me, then she reaches out and musses up my mane. At this point, I'm starting to feel that internal pressure building towards a point of no return, but I focus on the fact that Hel is leaving. If I can just last a few minutes longer, then she'll be gone, and I won't give her the satisfaction of making me snap. “Honeybutt, you really need to learn to loosen up. Not take things so seriously, not act like every little thing matters. Because really, nothing matters. Not you, not me, not all these worlds... not in the long run, oh no.
“You, me, the ponies, even Vally-wally, we're nothing to this big old universe.” Hel adds, twirling around in a circle with her arms held out. “We're just little specks, ickle-tiny bits of dust and mold and... you know, other crap like that. But that doesn't make anything bad , Mr. Seriouscorn, it's just a big ol' reminder that it won't destroy all of reality if you take a moment to sit on your bony ass now and then.”
I scowl at her sourly and reflect moodily on how often I've been told this, by almost everyone in my life at one point or another. They seem to fail to recognize that I am an administrator first and foremost, that I am in charge of maintaining all of Heaven... and that maybe I actually like staying busy. Staying busy stops me from thinking too much and doing stupid things. “Not all of us thrive on chaos, Hel.”
“You're so judgmental. That hurts me.” Hel bows her head towards me and makes her eyes big and pleading, but I only glare back at her until she finally rolls her eyes and waves a hand grumpily. “Fine, fine. I get it, I'm not wanted, don't have to tell me twice. But do make sure you send me a letter soon, Mr. Seriouscorn. I'm anxious to get to know my brand new friends.”
I shudder a little at this even as Hel's ice puppet dissolves into mist that fades quickly from the air, and I breathe a sigh of relief the moment it's gone. Yet still, there's a gnawing sensation, as I rub slowly at my face... then grimace when Aria asks uneasily: “Why did you bargain with her?”
“It's a personal project.” I respond. That's enough for Aria, who nods and looks at me with... trust. Admiration, even. And that... hurts. I don't deserve either, but I force a small smile to her all the same before I look over at Excelsior.
He's clearly not as convinced, but as he puts down the clipboard, he doesn't say anything. He's a tall unicorn, lanky but strong, wearing old regal raiment modeled after the garb he wore when he was mortal, some... thousands of years ago. He spent many years as a Pale before finally ascending to Valhalla: he watched the world he came from change and grow and evolve, how ponies and their societies have begun to develop towards something better.
Of course, Excelsior also saw a lot of things that he wishes he could forget about, hence some of his less-than-brave behavior. But he's still an excellent adviser and I can trust his opinions, even I often have to do some nudging to get him to actually express anything beyond an uncomfortable agreement or an even-more uncomfortable 'no.'
For once, though, I'm glad he keeps his mouth shut on this subject. I really don't want to discuss it further with anyone... I would really prefer to keep Gymbr a secret until I'm ready to introduce him on my own terms... which I realize, ironically, are whatever terms Gymbr himself presents. Thinking I have any say in what the creature decides is just me fooling myself.
I sigh, then look up at Aria and ask finally: “What else is on the agenda for the meeting Hel interrupted? Let's take a moment to streamline any issues we can before we ask the council to return. I have another meeting to attend with Greater Heaven today.”
“Are... are you sure it's a good idea to meet with them? We already have other allies... Eden is much friendlier, even if these... 'humanoids' are a little strange.” Aria hesitates, then adds in a murmur: “But they're perfectly normal compared to the Greater Heaven. They're... alien.”
“They came to us after Selene's death, looking to become allies with us... and unfortunately, we need their strength. Nor can I precisely refuse their help: one of them claims to be the Nephilim's mother, and is holding us accountable for her demise.” I sigh and hake my head slowly. “I know it's uncomfortable, but we have to consider all the logistics of this situation. They are a very different culture and they are far from friendly, but they make very powerful allies. We need to sacrifice comfort for security at this point.”
“Why?” Aria asks, and... it's funny. I like that she asks questions, that she trusts me, but doesn't hesitate to ask about things she doesn't understand, to... quietly point out when I'm perhaps being too logical and not enough emotional. “Kvasir, sir... with all due respect, we're not in a state of war or any major danger right now. We have strong allies, and the layers are safe... it's been four years now since Looking Glass World suffered the attack from Thesis, and... things have been just fine. We've even been able to have Queen Freya assist with training the Valkyries.”
I nod calmly, then say softly: “I understand that Aria, but the nation that prepares for war only when war is already on the horizon, is the nation that loses that war. We need to prepare for whatever the future might hold, and it will undoubtedly hold more conflict. From Hel, from other Gods, from countless other sources.
“If I turn away Greater Heaven, we could risk making an enemy out of them. I would rather sacrifice some comfort to establish an alliance with them, and work through diplomacy, than risk creating another enemy and another source of conflict. Just because we're playing nice does not mean we're not proud and strong. Diplomacy is as valuable a weapon as any hatchet or sword.” I finish, and Aria nods to me respectfully.
I smile a little: I always seem to talk... gently to her. It's a little funny and I don't know why, but when I'm discussing things with her, she makes me... lose my edge and the irritation that normally overtakes me when I deal with all these meddling little ponies. Which is a very rare feeling for me, I have to admit.
Aria looks up at me, and then she shakes her head quickly and... is that a blush? Why is she blushing? But she's quick to move on, informing me: “We also have to discuss taxes, trades, the All Father's Day ceremony and if we should begin allowing small packages to be shipped back and forth, not to mention how we should manage registration...”
“A service fee seems to be working well, keeps the numbers manageable and gives Valhalla income.” I sigh and shake my head. “Economics. The dwarves want to be paid, the Blessed want to be paid, the soldiers want to be paid. While I am no fan of ardent patriotism, I still think that the fact we're all in Heaven should make you greedy little mortals a little more willing to work for room and board alone.”
“Every society needs some kind of economy.” Excelsior mumbles, and I nod after a moment, glancing over at the unicorn as he suggests in his meek way: “Perhaps... perhaps we should have interested parties apply this year for a short, five-minute listening appointment at the Watcher's Temple. We could charge a small fee for it, but it would let us reduce the fee to send a letter. More income, less for people to pay all at once.”
I shrug a little, looking at Excelsior: I understand he has a plan, and I can even begin to see the broad strokes of it, but I don't completely know what he's getting at. He looks at me almost pleadingly, and I sigh tiredly again and say finally: “Fine. Write your proposal down and I'll look it over tonight.”
The unicorn looks relieved, nodding and smiling at me. It's a little irritating, but it could be worse. Excelsior's reports and suggestions are always concise and well-written, and this way at least I can better work out the finer details than in a stumbling verbal discussion with the far-too-shy unicorn. I turn my eyes back to Aria, nodding to her and saying: “Go ahead and call the council back. We'll shift the All Father's issues over to the next meeting, after I have time to review Excelsior's proposal.”
Aria nods and salutes with one wing, then the Pegasus turns and head quickly for the door. I study her: she moves gracefully, delicately, and I admire her dedication. Even though I offered her a placement as one of the new Valkyries, all the same, she chose to stay beside me. She's as dedicated to Valhalla as I am, helping oversee its administration, understanding that things are managed by more than just what happens on the battlefield... although all the same, she does sometimes seem to... to long for that.
Excelsior is looking at me, and I look back at him after a moment. I frown slightly, and he clears his throat and hurriedly drops his gaze. I roll my eyes at this and shake my head slowly, then stand up and shove my chair back into place at the head of the table. I close my eyes, leaning against it, feeling uneasy and frustrated and hating this waste of time. However short or long it takes the council to fritter back in, it'll be more minutes out of my day that I could have put towards dealing with other important issues.
Then, to my surprise, Excelsior suddenly speaks up and asks me worriedly: “Sir, are you okay? You... you seem more preoccupied lately. I know it's none of my business but usually you at least try and stand up to Hel, but this time... you just went along with everything she said. You seemed... disconnected from everything.”
I frown over my shoulder in surprise: was I really? I didn't think I was doing anything different from normal but... admittedly, I usually lose my temper once or twice while dealing with Hel. This time... all I could think about was that I needed her help and that I wanted it to be over. Angry as she made me... it must just be my anxiety. “Maybe I am. But don't worry, Excelsior, I only have Valhalla's best interests in mind.”
“Please don't take this the wrong way, sir, but... good intentions pave the path to Helheim. Truth and strength lead to the Vale of Valhalla.” Excelsior replies, even as he keeps his head low. He's so humble that I can only smile a little at him despite myself, not replying.
We're left in a slightly-uncomfortable quiet: Excelsior is second guessing himself, and I'm... well, I'm doing the same. Maybe I'm not doing anything intelligent or logical here. Maybe this is... stupidity, and avarice, and... maybe that's been seeping into my entire line of work. Aria asked about Greater Heaven and I gave her what I think was a logical, concise answer, but... was it? Or was that just more fear talking, more... more need for control, power, or... am I being...
I think about Gymbr, how Gymbr... whispers in my ear, how I seem to be drawn towards doing what he wants. What if... that's affecting me in other ways? But he's never said anything about Greater Heaven... has he? I... I feel confused. And a little sick to my stomach. And as much as I want to brush it all off, I just... I just can't for some reason.
That crawling sensation stays in my mind even as I look up at the sight of the council returning. I lean forwards over the head of the table, taking a slow breath and composing myself, watching as they filter in. But now my thoughts are becoming all the more distracted... and I find myself afraid that maybe they aren't even all my own.
Entry Three
The council meeting went well enough, which was... I want to say necessary, considering how bad the rest of the day ends up being. I'm sitting here now, watching the enchanted quill write over the roll of parchment on the table. To my surprise, the quill ran out of paper a few paragraphs after the last chapter ending, and it was.. writing illegible notes over the top of the desk. So I had to turn it off, so to speak, and wash off the desk, and then find a much-larger roll of parchment for it to use. I'll have to remember to check it more often.
Now, I suppose I should go back over the events that made today just so memorable. I sigh tiredly, reaching up to rub at my temples slowly. God, I want to think about anything except for this misery, I really do. I'm tired and sore and questioning myself, and... I hate questioning myself. I hate sitting here, wondering... too many things. Thinking too many thoughts.
I look around my private study, at how... well... how empty it is. I have one or two landscapes on the wall and... a shelf of nonfiction and supplies, and... that's about it. Almost all of my Valhalla-related projects and papers are relegated to my work study, while this is meant more for my personal time, to avoid mixing business into my life outside of administrating Valhalla. I do have a life outside of being quote-unquote 'god,' after all.
Look at that. The quill apparently picks up on me better than I thought it would. It knew not to capitalize 'god.' Then again, not even a quill would mistake me for an entity worthy of proper noun status. I'm just... a puppet.
I shake my head briskly and rub quickly at my temples. No, no, no, don't start going down that path. I have escaped Valthrudnir, and I choose my own life and my own destiny. Odin trusted in me, and he would not have trusted in me if I was just some... homunculus. I'm more than what I am...
That doesn't make any sense. Oh for Mimir's sake, why is it so hard to focus?
I groan and drop my head into my hands for a moment, breathing, calmly myself down, focusing on the beat of my heart. I take a moment to step back and consider where I am now, compared to the world I came from: no longer forced to stay a spectacle in a glass cage, putting on little shows for Valthrudnir. I'm no longer getting... large sticks rammed through me or forced to dance and prance around like a fool or recite the death monologues of his enemies... well, what Valthrudnir imagined their death monologues would have been. I still remember most of them...
I shake my head and reach up to carefully brush my bangs back, then smooth down my mane, breathing slowly in and out, calming further as I think that... yes, I have come a long way. I've escaped a terrible fate, and I can be proud of that, even if all I did was... outlast Valthrudnir's tortures until the long period where he was simply... gone.
I think about that for a moment, sitting up a little. How Valthrudnir would come and go as he pleased, every now and then draining my blood or getting me to put on 'performance pieces' for him, and then there would be a long string of years where he wouldn't return. Where I would be able to lay quietly in my glass cage, or meditate, or...
Well, why pretend I was always dignified? There was plenty of crying and pleading. There was calling out, praying, screaming for help from... gods I was scared in my heart would be as cruel and monstrous as Valthrudnir. And there was trying uselessly to force my way out of my prison, but... Valthrudnir's design was careful, and flawless. Easy to open from the outside. An impossible cage to escape from the inside, no matter how strong or smart you were.
It's funny how these thoughts settle me: I think it's because... they're so far in the past now. They're where I've come from, what I've escaped, and I've lived long enough to know the memory of them can't hurt me. Make me uncomfortable, certainly. But harm me? Not at all.
I breathe slowly, in and out. I rest forwards, and look down at the quill, and think of today's events: they're too close to the present still to have that same strange, bittersweet comfort about them, but assuming I live long enough... one day, they will. For now, though, they make me worried, and... that's probably why I'm having such a hard time stopping stalling and just getting to the point. Dammit.
So let's... try and focus through this. Maybe it will let me... figure things out for myself, as well. I still feel off balance from how fast things moved, how... I was caught by surprise that the meeting with the council finished so smoothly and quickly... and then surprised again, in a much less-pleasant way, when I arrive at the meeting chambers and find that the Greater Heaven emissaries are already here, and waiting for me.
I know why Aria dislikes them: it's not just because they're so... so different, and alien. It's because they're so utterly distant and detached. The way they look down on us, the way they seem to think of themselves as... above. They're cold. Although, yes, how purely... different they are from us doesn't help very much, either.
How can I describe them? I've worked with all kinds of races, many of them vastly different from ours, but all of them still have this... this spark inside them, this sameness that lets us connect from one to the other with them. But there's no common ground between us and the Angels of Greater Heaven... or, as they prefer to be called, the Pious.
The Pious are... awful. I know I should try and be more... more positive about our allies, but there's just no other word that comes to mind, no better-fitting descriptor. They're awful. Even to a creature like me, made from a mishmash of different and alien pieces, these beings are difficult to look at, difficult not to judge... and what somehow makes it all the worse is the fact they simply don't seem to care about anything.
I think, finally, I've begun to understand the Nephilim, Selene. She was a being of immense power, and yet her only emotions were... muted, and seemed somehow all very... child-like. On the occasions where I was forced to deal with the Overseer myself, she always wanted to check with Brynhild about every little detail, and it was only recently that I understood... these weren't delaying tactics, played out simply to annoy me. It was her way of expressing the few emotions that were trying to overwhelm her Pious genetics: it was a woman who wanted to be Brynhild's daughter, trying to impress her adopted mother.
If I had gotten to know Selene more, I think I would have better understood the Pious. What drives them, what's beneath their... their faceless features. They do not look like Selene: Selene always took the shape of these ponies, as I do. Another point showing that she at least wanted to try and be like us: the Pious do not take our shape. The Pious have their own... mangled, awful shapes.
I can't describe them. Mouths, but no lips, and no face: just smooth, rubbery flesh. Large, square teeth, but I've never seen them eat, nor do their mouths move when they speak. Over the years, I've only ever been able to decipher two expressions: one is a stretching like a grin, that seems to mean disdain and disagreement. The other is an opening of those strange jaws, showing off their teeth, spewing their rancid breath into the air... it means they sense weakness, and vulnerability.
They're very tall... like most bipeds and humanoids, they stand on two legs, and they have two... arms. But their arms are... have more joints to them. Usually three, sometimes... sometimes more. They stick out near the middle of their bodies. And many of them have a second set of upper limbs, that stretch out of their backs, where the shoulderblades would be on a humanoid or pony. They're... straighter, with fewer joints, but they seem to be filled with cartilage instead of bone, and they have... the strangest long-fingered... they're almost too unnatural to be called hands.
They are... the Pious are not just, different, they're apart , do you understand? It's... it's so hard to even put into thought, let alone words. It's this instinct, this... thing that you just know by looking at them. That they're nothing like you, that there's as much... distance between you and them as there is between your living, breathing self and a machine that's been programmed to... recite prayer, and kill.
So when I had three of them already waiting for me, dressed in their... strange vestments... I think I was understandably a little concerned. They're usually very particular about times and schedules, careful to never be early, and never be late. So you can understand the multitude of reasons why I'd be less than happy to find them already waiting for me.
The Pious seem to have... some kind of hierarchy system. It's not one I'm entirely familiar with yet, thanks to the fact they won't actually tell us anything about their own culture. All they respond is that they are the servants of the 'One,' the 'True God,' 'He Of The Many Countless Faces,' and... many, many other names for the entity they serve. It's... I don't know why, but it's unsettling.
It bothers me that I can't... seem to figure out their motives, what they are... even who they really are. Every other divinity I've met with, every other... force of some Heaven or Hell that exists out there, across different planes or worlds, I've been able to learn about, get to know, understand more than a little. I can speak dozens of languages and know a hundred different methods to show respect to a hundred different cultures. And these creatures... all I can do is repress my shivers and nod politely.
One of them crosses its strange, multi-jointed arms over its chest in a gesture that I still have yet to decipher the meaning of, and its jaws stretch a little open: even from where I was standing I could smell the stink of its breath. Sweet, and rotten, and... unpleasant. Like it's... dead inside. Mimir's head, that thought makes me shudder.
I shake myself out, then take a breath and a pause, fighting back that... that chill that always comes on every time I start thinking too much about the Pious. That was always there, but what's made it worse lately is that... what Excelsior brought up. Hidden agendas, and not acting like myself and... all my worries that maybe Gymbr knows something, is after something.
I haven't seen him lately. I feel terrible for bringing him here, still, but... at the same time, there's still that stupid hope that I did the right thing. And even though some paranoid part of my screams that maybe Gymbr and the Pious have some... I don't know, hidden, conspiratory agenda together... the part of me that always has been and always will be logical and calm and calculating doesn't believe this is at all possible.
Gymbr, after all, is... passion, and animal, at his core. And he has helped me, just as Hel has helped me... oh Aesir past, why are all my strongest allies also the ones I want the least to do with? Or... no. Maybe that's a lie. Gymbr... I don't know. I really don't know. It's too complicated, made all the worse by his lashing out and attempts to reel himself back in and now this soulstone project.
Everyone wants something. The Pious wanted something, too: as the others make that same odd gesture, it speaks. They speak through psychic signals, sending out these... echoes. They speak in no language and every language at once, into the minds of everyone around them... it's... it takes some getting used to.
They don't waste time on formalities: they don't care about names, or introductions, or small talk. In a way, they're like the Skin Walkers that help protect Looking Glass World and a few other layers of reality... but these creatures aren't any kind of Guardian Elemental. Even the Skin Walkers I can still find common ground with, we can interact with others as equals. With the Pious, there's... no sense of equality, but in some ways there's not a sense of them holding themselves as 'superior,' either: they're simply too... different.
We were supposed to have a discussion over... trade rights, alliances, little details. The point was much less in actually figuring anything out, but engaging in mostly-pointless bureaucracy in order to have face time with one another, so I could perhaps decode a little more of their strange culture and they could inspect Valhalla, and hopefully... I don't know. Find common ground with us? Stop holding themselves so... so distant and apart from us?
I think the one in the center, the... 'leader,' so to speak, was the one who said it was Selene's mother. But they all look the same to me, and all it said to begin the conversation was: “The One desires to know if we may spread our Sacred Word to your people. This will be beneficial for us both. We will build Sanctuaries and protect your layers of Midgard, and some of your people will come to acknowledge the True God.”
“Ponies have their own gods and religions already.” was all I could think of to say. Even now I'm a little disappointed in myself that was the best stalling tactic I could come up with, whether or not the Pious caught me off guard.
The Pious didn't reply. It probably knew it didn't have to, and the fact it left me digging for my thoughts or a counterargument somehow... bothered me even more. It still bothers me, as a matter of fact. Even now I'm trying to sort out my thoughts more, think of what I could have said... but all I really managed to ask during that uneasy conversation, to try and stall for more time, was: “What would these... Sanctuaries entail? These worlds are the territory of Valhalla...”
“Even though you do not make your presence known to all? Even though there are many layers of reality that do not know of their deities? Even though ponies worship many gods and look to many religions for guidance, with those who watch over them so... absent?” The Pious' response is etched into my brain even now. It's an effect of their... chosen method of speech. And also probably because the thing is so quick to poke holes in arguments I haven't even made yet, and I regret ever underestimating their capability in a debate. But they so rarely do anything but make demands I thought the only discussion tool any of them possessed was declaring things righteously at me until I agreed.
There was silence, as the creature looked at me with its jaws slightly spread, in that... that uncomfortably-eager expression. It unsettles me just to remember. It makes me think I missed something important... they so rarely have tells, after all. They so rarely get excited, or interested, or push their agendas so much...
I tried to stall again. I was desperate at the time, ready to fall back on any argument I could make to try and get them off balance so I could even the odds. It felt, somehow, like I was fighting a war, not just in a debate with creatures that were supposed to be my allies... wait, debate? It wasn't even a debate, really, was it? But why did it feel like a conflict or an attack when the creature was just asking questions... was technically trying to offer help...
I don't know why I risked the question I did. I don't know why it sprung to mind as a good idea, when I asked: “Will you cloak your true forms, like Selene did?”
I remember how fast the Pious' jaw snapped shut. If it had eyes, I knew it would be glaring at me. As it is, I remember feeling... this intense pressure bearing down on me. This uncomfortable prickling, but what came next is far more significant.
“We do not speak of the excommunicated, nor do we hide our faces. We are proud to be the Host of the One True God.”
And then, there was the faintest twitch that all three shared before they straightened and crossed their arms over themselves again, reaffirming the gesture. That helped me see it, helped me understand what had just happened.
After years of never learning anything about them, keeping themselves to themselves, never letting anything shine through... they had just revealed something to me. And they had confirmed something else, as well: even if Selene came from these... 'angels,' she was nothing like them, and they had discarded her. They had originally come to me, acting superior, saying they would be 'merciful' and not 'demand justice' or 'recompense' for the way we had 'used' Selene, but... it seems they never really cared about her after all.
I wasn't surprised by it, but it was necessary proof. Now I could refute the patronizing way they would hold Selene's death over my head, push back a little. More than that, they showed... they may possess alien emotions, but they still have something like anger inside them. Yet all the same, not perhaps in the way we feel it... I've had time to think about it, and understood finally, I think, why it reacted so badly. Because something about Selene – not her power, not her strangeness – made her 'mother' discard her. Something that has to do with their strange belief system, that made her a heretic to whatever teachings they follow... and if they're protective of anything, it's their so-called 'Holy Word.'
I remember that there was silence for what felt like the longest time, before the creature finally asked, as if nothing had changed, nothing was wrong: “Will you allow for us to place our Sanctuaries in several of your worlds? Our only desire is that we are able to spread our word to your people.”
I couldn't say no. But saying yes felt... dangerous. It felt like an invasion... passive, certainly, and the Pious had never shown any indication of aggression apart from the irritating way they seem to assume that their One True God is some... divinity beyond the divine, inferring that somehow their deity made all our deities and everything else... but only an idiot would think there wasn't some secondary motive here.
But denying them... unfortunately, I couldn't risk that, either, much as I wanted to. I still believe they're... necessary allies. Or maybe I just believe we have to try and stay on their good side: the last thing we need is to go to war with another Heaven. I know that commonly, the 'strong' politicians are depicted as being forceful, powerful, not swaying or giving ground: but mortal politicians have short lives, and do not need to plan for possibilities a thousand years in the future, and usually only care about dealing with the specific groups that keep them in power.
It's not like I don't overhear the warriors of Valhalla... and some of them don't seem to understand I speak their old tongue perfectly well, so I know precisely what it means when they call me a skartsmaðr . They think of me as soft and weak because I am willing to yield to outside influences, and try to work through negotiation instead of force. They conveniently forget all the times I've held my ground against aggressors, that I have never permitted a single moment of interference with Valhalla's affairs or any of the layers of Midgard by outside forces, and that under my watch Valhalla has been flourishing.
Yes, I would love nothing more than to... to tell Greater Heaven to go back where they came from. I want to have Hel's ambassadors and minions thrown back into the pit they crawled out of, with rocks poured down after them for good measure. Nothing would give me a greater pleasure than having the miscreant little godlings who act like Valhalla is some... college fraternity they can crash and party at, bound and gagged and strung up by varying appendages like birthday ornaments.
But acting on these impulses could destroy everything we've built. We're no longer a clan of indomitable warrior and nature gods, guarded by a peerless fighting force known as Valkyries. We're a handful of divine beings that qualify as 'gods' mostly by technicality, with very few truly adept warriors, heavily reliant on the help of the goddess who often all-too-gleefully refers to herself as 'Heaven's archenemy' and the demons she provides us.
I understand pride and ego, I do. I'm... as I've confessed, those have contributed to my own problems. And what I also remember is that pride and ego are what cost Odin everything, and are at the root of what destroyed Valhalla. And so, while bowing one's head can hurt, it's better than having your neck broken. Wounded pride and ego hurt badly, but they're like scrapes: minor, tiny injuries that will ache badly for a short time, then quickly fade away.
And I think that's why I was forced to settle on a solution that I knew would not end pleasantly for me, but... it was also the safest option available. Even if I was already dreading what it will undoubtedly lead to. “I will allow you to set up one Sanctuary in a monitored layer, what we refer to as Looking Glass World. If this first... test is successful and there are no major problems or disturbances, I'll allow you to set up two more Sanctuaries, in other monitored layers.”
“We ask that you allow us to build two Sanctuaries; we will accept your terms of placement for both, but we are eager to spread the Holy Word of the True God.” responded the Pious. I could sense its intentness. I remember that feeling of mental pressure again... and for some reason, Gymbr came to mind. Lingering, uneasy thoughts of that... entity, the way he talked, how hard it was to deny even his softest words. There was a strange similarity there, but it didn't make these creatures any more understandable to me... it just made Gymbr feel like he might be more alien than I first thought.
Why is it so hard to focus on one thing? This should be easy, but... I keep... straying. I'm worried, and uneasy, and my thoughts keep turning away from the conversation down all these other paths and tangents, and I feel like something... is sitting there on the horizon. I have to get it together: I once scheduled thirty hours of work into a twenty hour day and still finished early. How can I not handle keeping my thoughts in line on a simple summary?
I suppose the exact details aren't that important, anyway. What's important is that our negotiations reached an unexpected turn, and the compromise we settled on... well, I feel that I've done my best. A little anxious about what the reaction of the Valkyries – particularly ever-volatile Brynhild – will be, but... I've done my best to minimize the reach of Greater Heaven, while at the same time maintain positive relations with the Pious.
Strange, though: they agreed to one Sanctuary in Looking Glass World, if they were allowed to build what they referred to as a Cenobium in Asgard, outside of Valhallan territory. Although it is... worrisome in some regards, that they would ask to do this... at the same time, it will give me a chance to observe their culture more directly. And from what they described, the Cenobium is like a self-enclosed dormitory, or monastery: I plan to keep a close eye on them, but I think it's a sign they're... trying to find a way to close that distance between us.
The Pious are not... hostile, after all. They are far from friendly, seem to look down on us, and are extremely secretive and... simply alien, but they are not hostile. At least, that's what I keep telling myself, to try and... give them more of a chance. Although... I suppose it shows that... I'm not at all fond of them, and they contribute more than I'd like to my anxieties. I can't help it, much as I try to be fair. There's something about them, something deeper than how xenomorphic they look, how forceful and patronizing they seem, how... distant they are...
I'm getting paranoid. But as my thoughts sift back and forth uneasily, insisting on... rehashing every little detail again and again, an odd memory comes to mind. It's about Selene, who feels like an important link, a clue of some kind, the piece of the puzzle I need to make fit to make Greater Heaven make sense...
She used to say that Brynhild reminded her of her mother. But nothing about these Pious reminds me of Brynhild: she is a creature of very raw, very powerful passion, they are... well, I've spent a lot of time by now trying unsuccessfully to describe what I think of them, there's no point in wasting more words on that subject.
Still, one of the Pious has claimed to be Selene's mother, and while there are obvious tactical and political advantages in making that claim... deception doesn't seem to be either their strong point, or their modus operandi. When they don't want to answer a question, they simply don't answer; when they want to change a subject, they change the subject; when they desire something, they ask for it... or demand it.
But the subject of Selene is... strange. Maybe... I don't know much about parentage apart from what I've gleaned from sociological studies and psychology texts, but maybe Selene saw her blood mother differently, not just because of who she was, but because she was her daughter. I feel like I'm grasping at straws here, though, trying to understand something I... I admittedly have a very difficult time grasping myself.
I never had parents, after all, nor friends, nor kin... I just had... Valthrudnir. And then Odin, and the All Father was always... a generous mentor to me, and treated me with compassion. Compassion that made it even harder for me to believe all the old stories in the archive about him: but I suppose no one really wants to believe the bad things about the people they... that they look up to.
I think about this for too long, my hands nervously reaching up to tighten my tie and play with the material. Finally, I realize what I'm doing and quickly lace my fingers together to force them to stop trying to... neaten everything. I sit down, I breathe slowly, and I just... try and stop for a moment.
Even if the Pious have some... nefarious agenda, even if Gymbr is somehow involved – and even though some scared, struggling little part of me is terrified this is possible, the rest of me knows the very idea of this is ludicrous, if not impossible – and even if I've allowed Greater Heaven to gain a small foothold... really, how much can they accomplish without being noticed? In Looking Glass World, the Strange Ones and the Valkyries will both be watching them like hawks. In Asgard, even outside of Valhalla's territory, even if they set up all manner of wards and defenses, there's little they'll be able to blind our eyes to.
I suppose so far I've never really... explained Asgard, have I? That Valhalla... 'Heaven,' as the ponies call it... doesn't just sit alone as its own plane, but is part of a... a much larger world, so to speak. Rather, the Vale of Valhalla is an ever-expanding meadow, kept abundant and growing by magic energies while at the same time never pushing past its predetermined borders. It's a time-space paradox enabled by applying mathematical chaos theory to dimensional-altering magic on the molecular level... except I think that's a little too difficult to explain as part of this little narrative, and I... honestly dislike thinking about it. My own magic could never be as powerful as the magic that runs rampant through this world. It's humbling, if not embarrassing.
The Vale of Valhalla is protected on all sides by the Giant's Denial: an impassable wall charged with magic energies. The barrier was designed to resist the efforts of the Jötnar to enter Valhalla, and so far it's proven unbreachable by any means. The Gates of Valhalla are the only way in and out – apart from a direct portal from another plane, of course – and unfortunately they are a little less sturdy than the walls: they can be forced open with enough brute force.
Asgard itself is a fairly wild world. The flora and fauna are very different from the mortal realm, and everything possesses a sense of magic. What we refer to as 'wild spirits' roam here and there, Pales and other specters that have found peace not inside the Vale, but instead being part of the strange and beautiful ecosystem of this... strange and beautiful world.
I mean, aesthetically beautiful, of course. The colors are vibrant, the flowers and wildlife are pleasant to look at and rarely emit any sense of hostility, there's a strong atmosphere of safety and balance. Of course, anyone venturing outside the walls of the Vale is very rare: not just because many of the Blessed don't care to know that they're actually inside a self-contained little world, but because the Vale is... their paradise. There's pleasures and work to be done, there's comforts and luxuries, and the fact alone that they live in Heaven now has a sort of... placebo effect. The simple knowledge of where they are soothes the ponies in a way that the magic of Valhalla is not entirely responsible for.
Of course, some do still seek the adventures that lay in Asgard's many realms: it is a large world, filled with the unknown and magic, territories owned only by land spirits and animals and nature, and all manner of natural supernatural phenomenon.
Natural supernatural. What kind of wording is that? This is so much harder than I thought it would be. Why can't my thoughts just line themselves up and fall into place?
I sit back and shake my head slowly, but my thoughts linger on Asgard's wilds for a moment. It's because at first I didn't understand what kind of insanity could possess people to want to venture into the unknown while having all this safety and security right here... but... more and more, I think I'm starting to know why. How staying in the same place for so long, doing the same things over and over again... it can grow stagnant.
I have these... strange thoughts sometimes, after all. I am an administrator first and foremost, no warrior, and I would never dream of being one, but... all the same, I still wonder sometimes what it would be like to... to go out there. To journey a little, and see this strange world that the Gods lived in and fought to control, to explore the ruins that once housed civilizations that no longer exist and see all of Odin and Frigg and the other gods' projects.
I suppose that's just the blood of the Aesir in me, calling for adventure, though... and maybe the blood of the Vanir, who were so joined with nature. But I'm not really Aesir, nor am I Vanir... I simply... am an administrator. So these instincts are best... simply ignored.
I mean, the thought is ludicrous. Me, out there, trying to be an adventurer. I am a creature of schedules and habits and nightly tea, not... war and battle. Yes, I have many means by which to defend myself, but not to act as an aggressor in any situation. I am far from suited to violence: I prefer to monitor battles from a safe distance and control the field through tactics and strategy.
I shake myself out, and then my hands reach up and smooth out my dress jacket before I look up towards the ceiling. I wonder how the Pious are going to fair, outside of Valhalla's walls and in Asgard. The strange magical energies that permeate the air of the wildlands, as we call them, will undoubtedly interfere with any of their magic... they might even find the world hostile towards them, for lack of a better term.
There's sort of a vindictive pleasure in that thought: they'll be trying to build their Cenobium in a place that won't at all be receptive to their presence, trying to instill order in the most wild of wild lands. I really shouldn't enjoy the fact even their strange kind will likely have to struggle to even build the foundation of what they claim will be such a mighty complex. Yet I do, all the same... and really, this is the essence of my negotiating strategy. Appear to bargain from a position of weakness and allow the opponent to press the advantage, until they end up a victim of their own demands. I've heard the irritating Draconequus that often accompanies Freya everywhere refer to what I do as bait-and-switch.
The Pious... Hel... and Gymbr. My thoughts turn to the last now. Strange as the Pious are, they are not my biggest concern. Gymbr is. And while I know I should likely be preparing in advance for Hel's twisted little game, at the same time I feel like... I have to figure out what he wants with this soulstone orb first and foremost.
Yet I trust him. I sympathize with him and I trust him even though I know I shouldn't, even if my soul screams that I'm being a naïve idiot. I sigh softly and run my hand through my mane nervously: I don't know what to think, I don't know what to do. I almost look forwards to when the Valkyries undoubtedly come knocking to find out what Greater Heaven is doing, building one of their temples on their world.
I think... maybe I should confess to what I've done. Except I know that if Gymbr senses I've even considered telling the Valkyries he still exists, that I saved him from Decretum before I quarantined it more than a decade ago... he'll undoubtedly do unpleasant things to me. Call me a coward if you want, say I'm an idiot for trapping myself in his own claws, but all the same... that's the situation I'm in.
Worse, part of me sympathizes with why he doesn't want to be seen, understands why he wishes to hide from the world. When Odin first found me, I... I remember cowering, afraid. And after fear came humiliation: having to be helped out of my cage, a naked mass of... tumorous, ugly flesh, a quilt made from the pieces of a hundred others.
I spent... many years hidden away in Valhalla. Lurking in the back rooms, a secret: not because Odin wanted to hide me from his unpleasant allies, but because I pleaded like a child with him to not tell anyone about me. I didn't want to be seen by the world; I was afraid of it, and I was afraid of people, and I was afraid of... everything, really.
Odin kept me company often, and eventually I allowed him to introduce his child to me. I knew so little of the world even then that... I never thought it strange this falcon-headed old man had a son who was a horse. And Sleipnir certainly never thought it was anything necessary to explain himself. But through Sleipnir, I began to get a better grasp of the world... mostly because he was so insistent on dragging me along on his adventures, whether I liked it or not.
He often took me outside the walls of the castle: he'd trot happily through the Vale, flirting with mares and doing his best to spread his cheer with everyone. No one seemed to find it strange I would always end up riding along on his back, usually dressed in a cloak or loose suit to hide my damaged and mishmash body.
I studied these ponies from my safe perch on Sleipnir, letting him draw all the attention to himself while I simply watched. I rarely joined in conversation, and usually ignored the ponies that greeted me or Sleipnir's attempts to make me talk. I wasn't... comfortable with the thought of interacting with creatures that back then, I thought only of as Odin's pets. I... looked down upon them. I unconsciously acted like Valthrudnir, thinking of them as inferior, as nothing more than golems of flesh that served Odin.
Yet Odin was good to them. He treated them better than I thought they deserved, and he worked hard to make sure they were happy in this... Heaven. The numbers in the Vale have grown steadily as more ponies trickle up from the worlds, but... not all souls find peace here in the Vale of Valhalla, and our numbers of Blessed are not as great as you would think with... so many ponies of so many worlds all congregating here.
From my research into the subject, I've deduced that it's our personal beliefs that play a part in where we end up. Not just so-called 'sin' and 'virtue,' nor what we rationally or morally deserve... but personal belief. If a pony truly believes that their death is their death, and will be the end to their existence, that will be what they are given. If they believe in something apart from the Vale of Valhalla... then often, their soul never passes into this plane of paradise, but goes... I don't know where.
Unlike Helheim, which is divided up into slices that are each assigned a few worlds, therefore mostly avoiding too many instances of different versions of the same pony from multiple layers meeting, the Vale is one massive, open area. All the same, 'communities' have formed across its reaches: cities and settlements and little towns, often all populated by ponies of the same or very similar worlds. We have had instances, of course, where multiple 'version's of a pony have met: that is to say, Pegasus A from Layer 1 meets Pegasus A from Layer 2, who is recognizably 'twinned,' much as I loathe the completely incorrect use of that term.
An explanation that there are multiple layers is usually provided during our quote-unquote 'introduction sessions' for those who have just arrived in Valhalla. As is also explained that the Blessed generally take on the appearance of the time in life when they were happiest, modified slightly by a mortal's self-image. A pony who died of old age, but was happiest as a youth, for example, might have the appearance of a teenager: if he was confident in himself, then that will translate directly into his physical appearance, making him perhaps... more handsome, more neat in overall form.
It's a simple, short summary for a long, complicated process. People do not merely... pop into Valhalla, magically intact, fully aware of their surroundings, what's happened to them, and the bodies they are in. It takes adjustment and time, which is why I've begun a sort of community outreach program, so to speak.
I let my thoughts spill to an end. It's funny, explaining all this, when I know these scrolls will likely be found by someone in Valhalla... except more and more, I think... I think I should prepare a method to deliver them to Looking Glass World if something happens to me. They would have a better chance of reaching Freya that way, and there would be less of a chance of them being destroyed or stolen or simply... discarded.
And once again I find myself back on the subject of Gymbr, whether I meant to be or not. I sigh, looking down, rubbing slowly at my face. I can't... stop wanting to believe in the deity, and I can't stop seeing the similarities between us. After all, he clearly could wear any guise he wanted... but he chooses to be a pony, like the ponies he was made from, like the ponies he claims to want to protect. I too, chose the guise of a pony, even if I like to retain my ability to walk on two legs and complex hands.
I look down at these, studying their shiny luster. How the ponies manage to do so many things with their hooves, I'll never know. Even Gymbr has his claws...
I touch my neck, taking a slow breath, then I frown a little as my fingers shift, feeling my pulse. Fast, a little erratic... have I really allowed my anxieties to get this bad? By Mimir's head, why am I letting this all get to me so much? I've lived through worse, and whether or not Gymbr is a danger, whether or not the Pious have some plan... I'm doing what I can to minimize the damage all these things can do.
I pick myself up out of the chair, shake myself out, then head for the door, not looking back. I feel like I've forgotten something as I let myself out of the private study, but I disregard it. As always, I double-check to make sure the door is locked and secured, and absently draw a finger over the blood seal on the door: this is the one ward that even Gymbr cannot bypass without me knowing, thanks to the fact it's crafted from my own... unique... blood.
Unique blood. A euphemism if there ever was one, as I stride moodily down the corridor. Although made originally as just a trophy and testament to Valthrudnir's genius, my blood has certain... interesting properties, thanks to the fact it's made from the stuff of so many gods mixed together. Valthrudnir used my blood like chemical fuel for his disgusting creations and machines, among other things. I know that was never my intended purpose at first, but... like... I don't know, like a flower, I suppose, I was grown for my appearance before he discovered my life essence could be used for... oh I hate metaphors. Why am I trying to think of a metaphor for this, it's not like...
I groan and roll my eyes. That's what I forgot, to remove the enchantment for tonight from the quill. I throw my arms wide and turn around, grumbling as I begin to storm back down the hall: thankfully, there's only a few people standing around to observe me, and by now I have the feeling most of Valhalla thinks I'm nothing but an insane idiot anyway. Or a coward. Or a thousand other unpleasant things.
I stride back to my private study, but just as I grasp the door, a voice calls to me. I close my eyes tiredly: I want to drop my head against the door or ignore the approaching demon, but I know that I can't. So instead, I turn towards her as she grins and hurries up to me.
Have you ever known someone who, for all their good qualities, for all the nice things they do for you, for the way that even when they're twice your size, they seem to look up to you every time you meet them... have you ever met someone who for all these things, simply... irks you? Well, that is my relationship with Terra.
Terra smiles down at me, eagerly. I look up at her sourly. There's an awkward silence that feels... ridiculously long and uncomfortable, and I have to resist tapping my hoof or checking the pocketwatch in my vest. She's still smiling. She's still staring at me with those big, bright, babylike blue eyes of hers.
Which is very cute in a demonic dragon and all. A quadrupedal, towering demonic dragon with steel scales and razor-like spines and who wears jewelry made out of the teeth and bones of her enemies. With ease she could pick up a pony or a Nibelung and either fillet them into pieces with her claws or crush them down to the size of a pebble with her brute strength, and she's in possession of a wide variety of supernatural powers.
It's not that I'm not glad for her. It's not even that I don't like her, although part of me never will find the Pride demon... palatable. She's almost a match for a Destroyer with her draconic and demonic heritage, and she serves as mentor and trainer for the new Valkyries alongside several other powerful and trustworthy demons. It's that I've only just lately come to understand why Hel was so eager to pass Terra off onto my hands in spite of having once been a personal guard of the goddess at her beneath-the-universe estate.
Finally, I sigh and force a smile, asking despite the fact I want nothing more than to leave: “Yes, Commander Terra? What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to report that two more new Valkyries have completed initial training, sir. That brings the total of battle-ready rookies to ten.” Terra salutes me proudly, and I nod, and my smile becomes a little more natural. Sure, intensive, short-term training is nothing compared to the literal centuries of work that went into the original Valkyries, but from what I've seen, the trainers ensure that every new Valkyrie is capable of taking on at least a Second Tier demon in direct combat.
It's not much yet... but as they gain experience and train further, they'll grow stronger. I don't dare hope that one day they'll be as powerful as the old Valkyries, but... I do hope to carry on their memory and mission, and perhaps to pay tribute to them a little. I respect who they were, after all... the strength they had... and by that, I don't just mean their raw power.
Terra leans down a little too close for comfort, and I wince a bit: her breath is burning hot, although it smells more like chocolate than it does sulfur. “And Prestige Luster asked me to find out when the next date is that Antares Mīrus could visit and help her train. I've also been asked to ask about the Helheim exchange program again.”
I sigh tiredly: these are both topics I really don't want to discuss, and Terra keeps... sidling a little closer, like I'm not going to notice the giant dragon trying to all but cuddle up to me. I reach up and carefully push her head back with one hand, then say dryly: “Child of a Valkyrie or not, Antares does not get to simply flaunt the rules of life and death however he pleases. He is only permitted to visit when Freya or Brynhild visit, we've already agreed on this. Besides, Prestige is at the top of her class, even if she's not yet qualified for full Valkyrie status-”
“And the lass remains our top student precisely because of Antares.” wheedles Terra. Mimir's head it annoys me... admittedly because of the fact she's probably right. “He motivates her to work harder, and they teach each other well. Besides, Antares desires to be a Knight of Valhalla, and he's taken many steps forwards fortifying himself for this task.”
“Even if Antares is immortal or very near it, he is not permitted to simply... move into Valhalla just because he wants to.” I say crankily, my hand squeezing the doorhandle. I wish I could just go into my private study, but I don't want Terra to see the damn quill recording my damn thoughts. I also realize what could happen if the demonic dragon happens to read that I find her voice annoying and her overall demeanor childish... no, no, don't record that, don't write down these thoughts!
I know that order is futile already, and Terra is looking at me oddly, so I finally sigh tiredly. She's only like this with me. With others she's friendly, but she maintains professional distance... it must be because I'm in a position of authority, she seems to think that this extra-friendliness will make me cut her more slack. That's all I can think of, anyway. I really don't want to reinforce this behavior, but... when caught between a closed door and a clingy dragon... “Fine. I'll speak to Freya and Brynhild, I know that I'm going to have business with them shortly, and... I will make time to discuss with Antares the path he's chosen. But if he's only doing this for her...”
“He's not. I think we both know that, Lord Kvasir... and while I don't think he'd be happy as just a soldier guarding Heaven, I think it will help him find his real place. Just as I think Prestige will find hers. We all have our place in the world, sir, all of us.” Terra emphasizes the last sentence, and I frown at her curiously as she leans forwards pointedly.
Finally, she clears her throat and leans back, then smiles and reaches up a claw, holding up a small bracelet with several... teeth on it. And... are those claws? “I made this for you, sir. Just... just a gesture of goodwill.”
She blushes a little, which I find odd, but I'm a little too focused on the bracelet to care. It's... barbaric. I don't want to touch it, especially if it's made of... other demons. But oh no, she answers that worry for me right away, seeming to sense my discomfort as she babbles out: “Oh, it's... it's made of my own teeth and claws! You know they all grow right back, after all!”
Oh Mimir's head, how do I say no? How do I not accept this graciously? And she's looking at me with those big bright sensitive eyes and... she is a Pride demon, and expects certain etiquette and if I make her angry...
I reach up and take it, pinching it awkwardly between two fingers and trying not to shudder. I hold it up, and Terra leans down, urging: “Try it on, try it on!”
Oh, why does this happen to me?
There's a long, awkward moment where I just continue to stare, and then I finally sigh and slip it over my wrist, just... telling myself not to think about it. Far easier said than done, of course. Then I hold up my hand and study the bracelet uncomfortably, as Terra smiles brightly at me, leaning in a little too close again.
“Thank you.” I finally say awkwardly, looking up at her. She looks happy. I'm glad she's happy, really, I am, but I quickly turn and yank open the door, excusing myself lamely with: “I need to write a letter to Freya.”
The study door closes behind me before Terra can say anything, and I sigh tiredly and grab my face before grimacing and holding my arm out at length, looking moodily at the bracelet of teeth and claws around my wrist. Oh, Odin's ghost save me, why are all these creatures so strange?
Entry Four
It's been a long day so far, and it's only really just gotten started. I'm very tired: so much is going on at once that I haven't been able to even run the enchantment as often as I hoped. Which is unfortunate, because I've been thinking a lot about the situation lately, and understand there's more that I need to address than simply the issues with Gymbr.
Right now is the only moment of peace I've had in... eighty, ninety hours? It must be closer to ninety. I have a meeting with Freya and Brynhild later in the week – which of course means that idiot Scrivener Blooms and Twilight Sparkle will be joining us as well – and Antares will be with them. I've scheduled a time to address the issues of him wanting to live and work in Valhalla, and to talk about his relationship with Prestige Luster.
I dislike the idea of interfering with so-called 'romance.' As long as it doesn't affect productivity, I could care less what other ponies involve themselves with, but in this scenario it's interfering with the regulations of Heaven. For all intents and purposes, Antares Mīrus is a mortal: I cannot simply grant special exception for him because he happens to be in love with a new Valkyrie, and he is also the son of Brynhild. How many other ponies long for loves that have passed on, after all?
Precedents must be set and adhered to. Rules and structure should be obeyed and followed, not distorted and broken. Otherwise, we'll be left with the same chaos that runs rampant in Ginnungagap. I have to ensure all mortals of all species are treated equally if they reside within the Vale or these golden halls, just as I have to weigh positives and negatives logically, not emotionally.
People tell me I always look so cold and distant when I make these arguments. I'm glad that I do: I'd rather have them think I don't care than let them understand how much it hurts to do rational mathematics like this. I wonder how Freya survived doing this for so many years... quantifying, stacking odds, and at the end of the day being the one to say 'save these three and let that one die.'
I'm sorry. My thoughts are... heavier right now. I'm stressed, and tired, and I feel defensive and... so much needs to be measured and dealt with. Aria and Excelsior are both helping out as much as possible, and Terra is... doing her very best to be useful... but in the end all responsibility falls on my shoulders to get these things done, and I'm the only person most gods and diplomats will deign to meet with, as so-called King of Valhalla.
Gymbr hasn't helped much, either. Every moment I've had alone until now, he's appeared right beside me to dangle bits and pieces of his plan in front of me. And to reassure me in his strange way that he's trying to help me. Although... I'm no longer entirely sure just what he means by that. I don't know if his idea of being 'helpful' is the same as mine.
The Pious have also been seen around Valhalla lately, in higher numbers than usual: they seem to be taking advantage of our hospitality while they lay the plans for their Cenobium. I've spoken with a few of their... 'delegates,' to use that term loosely. I've learned very little even with multiple meetings with multiple angels of Greater Heaven over the last few days, which is beginning to grow frustrating.
I sit back and close my eyes for a moment, and try to remember when the last time I slept was. Honestly, it's been... months, if not years, I think. But I am a god: I don't strictly need to sleep or eat, as much as it helps me from time-to-time. As dearly as I would like to succumb to tiredness for now and just nap for even an hour... I know I don't have the time.
There are schedules to keep, and jobs to be done. I have ten minutes I can afford right now before I have to go and check on the status of the Knights, and then a meeting with the council, followed by a military strategy session...
I feel something. A tickle, a warning. I feel it even before there's a rumble through Valhalla, and then a booming noise that is shortly joined by the clamor of alarm bells ringing. I look up as my eyes widen, then stagger up to my hooves with a curse, staring up at the ceiling as the alarm bells ring louder, blurting: “Not now!”
I don't know why I'm surprised, but it sounds like Hel's attacking early. Without stopping to think, I run to the door of my private study, throwing it open and hurrying out into the hall. There's some vague relief at the fact people are already hurrying through the halls to where they're supposed to station themselves in case of attack, but no time to be glad for that. Instead, I have to focus on getting into position myself.
I hurry through the corridor, gritting my teeth, trying to get my thoughts in order. I need information so I can strategize and better allocate our defensive forces, and I need-
“Honeybutt!” crows a voice, and I trip over my own hooves and stagger to a stop to stare in disbelief at the sight of Hel. The ice puppet of the goddess is grinning gleefully, her eyes alight with malicious amusement. She's leaning against the wall in plain defiance of the hundreds of wards and anti-demon measures that should be holding back her magic and keeping not just her, but every other entity and spirit foreign to Valhalla outside the walls of the Vale.
I stare, and she winks at me before striding over and reaching up to firmly tighten my tie, almost choking me with it as she nearly purrs: “I really have to say, I like what you've done with the Pious. Keeping those nasty angels outside of the walls... I couldn't help but send some of my demons to give 'em a nice welcome.”
“You what?” I stare in horror, then snarl and shove her icy hands away, stumbling backwards. A few Knights are watching nervously, but without looking I gesture at them to quickly go to their posts: there's nothing they can do to stop Hel, and I know now she's not here to hurt me. She's just here to taunt me with what she's done. “Do you know how much-”
“Now stop it. I've really done you a favor. They're nasty.” Hel nods childishly, and I glare at her, unable to even think of a response before she reaches out and grabs my hand suddenly. I wince at how cold her icy fingers are as she lifts it curiously, studying the bracelet of claws and teeth I hadn't even realized I was still wearing as she says brightly: “Now hey! That looks like Terra's work... did you ask for it or did she give it to you?”
“I think we have more important things to discuss right now than bone trinkets, Hel.” I yank my hand away, looking up at her with disgust before I turn to walk away... and then wince as a wall of ice rips out of the ground in front of me, blocking off the entire hallway.
I begin to turn around, and too late: Hel's already created a second wall of ice just a few feet away, leaving me trapped in this small section of hallway with the person I hate more than anyone else in this entire universe. Or rather, the indestructible thing she acts through, which grins at me as it mocks: “And what's the magic word, sweetie?”
I scowl at her: I can hear soldiers already hacking away at the ice on either side of me, but I know that unless someone truly powerful shows up, no one's going to make so much as a dent in Hel's barrier. So instead of answering her, I raise my head and shout clearly: “Head to your positions and send a messenger to inform me of what's going on as soon as possible. Send a message to the war room for now, have them raise the drawbridge halfway and position archers to stave off a frontal assault!”
There's some muffled noises, and a few last sounds of something hitting the ice before the presence past the walls of ice vanish. My eyes are still locked on Hel, who nods approvingly as she hugs herself and sways on the spot. She's... calmer than I expected her to be. But still as annoying as ever, since what she chooses to focus on is: “So Terra gave it to you, huh? Huh? Huh?”
“Yes, Terra gave me the bracelet.” I say icily, then attempt to carry the conversation towards something much more important, even though I already know it's a fool's game. “Attacking Greater Heaven puts you at risk as much as it does me, perhaps more. What if they demand we go to war? Do you want Helheim and Valhalla to once more be enemies instead of following this-”
“That means Terra likes you, you big dumb oaf.” Hel informs me, and I stutter to a halt and stare at her, then groan and slap my forehead at her obvious and stupid attempt to derail the conversation. As if I'm going to fall for what's so clearly a flat-out lie.
I begin to open my mouth, and Hel absently snaps her fingers: ice forms over my maw and freezes it shut. I wince in pain and grab at the muzzling frost, while Hel only continues thoughtfully: “Now, see, I kinda didn't expect that. It's pretty cute, though, and you know, maybe if you had a little coochy-coo you'd stop being such a stick in the mud. I mean, sure, that Aria girly likes you too, but really. What's a Blessed compared to a Pride demon? Then again, you could probably have both.”
I glare at Hel horribly before cursing as I finally manage to rip the ice free from my features, feeling a shock of pain before I grumble and shake my head out, saying distastefully: “Your demons are attacking the territory I'm in charge of. I think a discussion of my romantic life is better saved for another time. Furthermore, I don't know what you're talking about. They are capable and professional employees, that's all.”
“That's the coldest thing I ever did done hear. And I'm made of ice.” Hel remarks mildly, pointing at herself and nodding seriously a few times. I sigh and shake my head, looking back and forth grouchily before the goddess continues kindly: “Now, see, I'm really doing you a favor here, making you hash this out, confront all your feelings, since... you know, normally you're about as emotional as a big dumb brick.”
“No, what you're doing is delaying me and attempting to run interference in my current working relationships. Which I do not appreciate.” I reply distastefully, and then glance up with a frown as I hear a distinct roar.
Hel looks up curiously too... and then the ice wall next to her simply explodes as something massive and metal crashes through it, then smashes the ice puppet into shards. I stare in surprise as the curtains of ice shatter away to nothing with the destruction of the puppet, and Terra skids to a halt and looks at me with clear concern in her eyes. “Lord Kvasir! Are you alright?”
“Terra, you should be marshaling the Valkyries!” I reply sharply, and Terra flushes and bows her head low before I sigh tiredly and reach up, touching my forehead before I scowl when a throat clears itself loudly to the side.
Hel's puppet has already reconstructed itself, the icy figure brushing its reformed body moodily off as her cow head tilts pointedly towards the demon. “Now that wasn't very nice at all, Terra. We're adults, trying to have an adult conversation here. Although if you want me to be entirely honest, honeycake, we were talking about you and how much you have a crushy-wushy on Mr. Seriouscorn here.”
Terra stares at Hel, and I sigh and roll my eyes, rubbing slowly at my forehead before glancing over at Terra, deciding to try and make the best of things. “Ignore her. Take me to the war room, you can help with counterstrategy and then reinforce the defenders.”
“Cheater!” Hel whines, but Terra is already moving towards me, quickly picking me up and boosting me onto her back as her spines settle and retract to let me sit comfortably. I can't help but notice that the demonic dragon is smiling even as she begins to lope down the hall... before I glare over my shoulder as Hel's puppet follows, flying eerily through the air as the goddess complains: “Using my own demons to demolish my own demons, that's just not fair. You're taking advantage of her, Kvasir. You just called her an employee, and now, what, 'cause she's all soft on you you're going to make her kill her own kinny-boo? That's just mean. That's just-”
Terra's long tail snaps back and slaps Hel across the face, sending her careening off course into a wall with a squawk. I can't help but smile despite myself, looking forwards as I steady myself by grasping a large ridge near her collar as the bracelet of bone and teeth around my wrist jangles. I feel an odd sensation as I look down at this for a moment, before Terra says firmly: “I serve you, Lord Kvasir. Whatever you demand, I'll do. Anything.”
“I... am not your master, Terra. I am an administrator. My job is to keep you in line but not rule you.” I reply quietly, and Terra glances over her shoulder at me for a moment, and there's such warmth in her eyes. I don't think it's just because Helheim is so cruel, run on ideas of ultimate rule, of masters and slaves... I think she sees me like a friend. But that's ridiculous: I can't afford to be friends with my employees, or I at least can't allow emotional connections to overwhelm logic. I have to do what's best for everyone, not just myself, not just... these people I care about even when I don't want to.
Terra is fast: she reaches the war room long before Hel can catch up to us, and the dragon bows low so I can slide off her back and enter the room first. I approach the round table with Terra following close behind me as the doors are locked and sealed: not that it will keep Hel out for long if she decides to force her way in, but I plan to make the most of the time spent without her malingering presence. “Situation?”
“Twenty-six demons, Second and Third Tier, forcing their way forwards with a Black Sheep.” reports one of the angels immediately, and I look up in surprise: a Black Sheep is a dangerous Helheim war machine, but that's barely a platoon of demons... “Archers are at the ready and we've already set mines on the road. They'll at least slow the Black Sheep down.”
“Let me make up for putting my feelings over my duties, Lord Kvasir, I can destroy the invading forces easily by myself.” Terra almost pleads, and I look over my shoulder at her before biting my lip... then I nod curtly.
“Take all ten rookie Valkyries with you and your five most promising students. Have them engage with the enemy, they need the experience and I am entrusting you with their protection.” I say calmly, then add quickly: “Disable the Black Sheep but do not destroy it. We can use that technology ourselves.”
“Oh, Kvasir, all you gotta do is ask, and I'll send you ten armored carriers just like it.” Hel's voice almost purrs, and I grimace over my shoulder as intelligence officers and other soldiers look up in shock. Terra only grits her teeth, glaring over her shoulder with much less surprise at the sight of the goddess leaning back against the warded door... and I wonder again, how powerful she must be. No, more than that... how can she move around Valhalla with such ease?
But I refuse to be knocked off guard or led on any tangents right now. Instead, I glance at Terra, ordering in a steady voice: “Go. And keep your eyes open for any surprises.”
“No surprises, I promise.” Hel says cheerfully, but I ignore her. Terra, meanwhile, looks uneasily at the goddess as she heads towards her, and the ice puppet grins widely before bowing aside and gesturing to the door... which at her command, springs open and unlocks.
That catches my attention, like it or not, but I only spare it a moment of thought for now before I force myself to return my eyes to the strategy table. I knock firmly on it to attract the attention of my generals and advisers, saying curtly: “Ignore her. I need a location report and a status update. I also need a full scan of the Vale of Valhalla and a Closure Team dispatched to the Gates.”
I feel Hel's icy hands grab my shoulders, beginning to massage them painfully: not just because of how hard she's squeezing, but because of her icy touch. All the same, I ignore her, then glare around at the table when some of my advisers only stare at what I know is probably a very strange sight, even though one of them manages to fumble for a report.
“You really need to relax, honeybutt! Come on, this is just a friendly game with some expendable expendables!” Hel says, and I pretend that I can't hear her as I grab one of the reports and look over it. I hate the fact she's peering over my shoulder, but I ignore that, too. “Oh, hey, spelling error! That's a silly one, too, who taught you angels how to write?”
“We're going to stick to defensive positions. And we're going to seal and fortify the Gates: we'll have to send a mass message out to the Pious, as well as alert any of our scouts outside the walls.” I continue with only the faintest strain in my voice, looking back and forth. “It will only be for a short period of time, while these-”
“Drills! Three weeks!” Hel says helpfully, and she lets go of my shoulders to cross her arms over my head and lean on me. It takes all of my willpower to stop myself from shoving her away and keep my eyes focused on the paper, which includes several pictures of the structural damage done to the Gates. “Oh, look, look, that hinge is totally borked.”
I slowly put down the papers, then look up and say as calmly as possible: “We're going to set up a small encampment near the Gates. Not to act as a first wave of defense, but to alert us when they come under attack again. Our defenses will be concentrated around Valhalla itself: if we know not just when the enemy is approaching but have a more detailed analysis of their forces, we can make adjustments along the Vale path to tire and weaken demons as they march on us, perhaps to the point that low-tier demons will be too weak to fight.”
“I like how you guys talk about tiers and defenses and stuff. It's kind of like fantasy football but not really fantasy. Or football.” Hel remarks casually as she leans further onto me. I can feel snow and ice beginning to spread through my mane, and I can't help but grind my teeth when she begins to absently flick and poke at my horn with one hand. “I used to play a tabletop role playing game, you know, with Vally-wally and some other nerds. I was a level nineteen psychotherapist. Plus three to saving rolls, plus ten charisma, had this incredible prescription pad of nobility that let me take an extra bonus when persuading any monster with 'government' in the type. Oh, good times.”
Everyone is only staring at her, while I've returned my eyes to the damage assessment. After a moment, I look up and order: “Send three engineers with the Closure Team. Tell them to do a closer assessment and then send a letter to me as soon as possible. I want them gone in ten minutes.”
“Sir!” One of the angels at the table salutes, then turns and hurries off. Hel clicks her tongue almost disapprovingly, but I ignore her as one of the other generals quickly lays out a map over the strategy table.
Our conversation is brief, punctuated only by short reports from the battlefield. Hel eventually gets bored and starts loitering around the strategy room, but most of the staff know to ignore her as much as possible, and there's no major interruptions.
Eventually, word comes back that the demons have been destroyed, the Black Sheep secured, and only minor injuries were suffered. It's an expected outcome, but a strange relief at the same time, although I only nod and then return my eyes to the map. Just because the battle is over doesn't mean that my business is done, after all: the injured must be tended to, I'm still waiting on a report from the engineers and the Closure Team, and I need to figure out what defenses need to remain in place while patrols comb the area nearby for any demons laying in wait.
But I'm interrupted by Hel striding over to me with a smile and leaning down beside me, before she simply snaps her fingers... and a moment later, everything is frozen in ice. The room, the doorway, the angels and advisers and military staff... and my own legs.
It's cold. It's cold and it hurts and I snarl up at her... but she only reaches out and almost tenderly cups my face with one hand. A hand that surprisingly doesn't have the biting cold to it I'm used to, in spite of how much the contact stings. She looks at me, and I'm... unsettled, because there's no maliciousness in this moment. There's no cruelty, or glee, even if she's smiling, before she leans forwards and whispers into my ear:
“Choose your friends wisely, Kvasir... and choose your secrets even more carefully. Gymbr may be less forgiving than I am.”
I go pale, staring at nothing, breathing hard as Hel's fingers slowly stroke down to my shoulder as she slides away, smiling at me and studying me, watching my reaction. I force myself to look at her, only able to shake my head weakly before she says gently: “I am not your enemy, honeybutt. Oh, sure, I know I might seem that way, but in the grand scheme of things? I want you here, in Heaven. I want Brynhild and Freya safe and sound, running things the way they are... I want us to get along, just like so. Oh, sure, I'm a little sociopathic. I don't really get the 'value of life' and all that.
“But Kvasir...” Hel leans down knowingly. “How can I have all that chaos I like without any life in the universe? How can Hell exist without Heaven? It's all about balance, sweetie. And me, I'm just the weight on the other end of the scale, the yin to your yang. I'm the monster at the end of the storybook and you're the hero at the start.”
“So you're saying that we'll meet in the middle, but only you'll survive until the end?” I ask after a moment, even as I grimace and pull against the ice restraining me... but when I shiver, it's not from the cold. It's from the fact that Hel clearly knows... everything. And I don't know how she possibly could. I don't know how this goddess can... can do all the things she can do, here in Valhalla, when she was exiled to Helheim so many years ago and left to rule over the legions of demons...
“That's often how the story works, but no, that was just a metaphor. Don't be so damn serious, Mr. Seriouscorn.” Hel reaches out and flicks the end of my horn, smiling at me almost kindly. It makes my stomach turn a little as shivers run down my spine.
The ice puppet of Hel surveys me thoughtfully for a few moments, then she finally claps her hands and nods firmly once, saying cheerfully: “Glad we had this talk! Now, if you'll excuse me, honeybutt, I need to go out and round up some more demons to send your way for fun and games.”
With that, she steps backwards into a deep, theatrical bow with a dramatic flourish of her hands, and then the ice puppet – along with all the other frost in the room – shatters into motes of blue and white that fade quickly from the air. Angels and Blessed and every other kind of entity that had been trapped under the ice all stumble, and I grimace as I look down at my now-freed legs.
My shoulders slump, my breathing falls uneven, and my
My apologies. When I was finally able to return to my study, I found that Hel had left a little personal note for me on the scroll that I have omitted from the records. It also makes me realize that I need greater security for this enchantment, and a better way to avoid it being interfered with... and I really don't want to think about what Hel might have managed to glean from these transcripts.
I don't know what Hel is really after. Is this perhaps a tactic to attempt to create conflict between myself and Gymbr? There's too much that's possible because... there's simply too much that Hel seems to know, and as idiotic as she acts, she's not stupid. Her performances are designed to irritate, to draw out emotions, and to distract: she's more similar to the chaos beasts of Ginnungagap than I like to think.
I wonder briefly if she would take that as an insult or a compliment, then sigh and shake my head quickly. It's late night now, everything here has been... managed as much as possible, and the Gates of Valhalla are firmly sealed. There has been no sign of Hel, and nor has Gymbr shown his face... it makes me paranoid. For a moment, my anxieties wash over me, and I wonder if maybe... Gymbr knows, and is lurking, waiting for me to let my guard down, and then I'll feel his claws at my throat...
I shake myself out and nervously adjust my tie, pulling the knot a little too tight against my neck. I breathe slowly in and out, my eyes flicking uncomfortably back and forth, and then curse myself for being an anxious idiot and letting Gymbr and Hel get too deep inside my head.
Then there's a knock at the door, and it startles me so badly I accidentally hammer my knee into the bottom of my desk. I groan and grab my leg for a moment, then look sourly at the closed study door as a muffled voice asks uneasily: “Lord Kvasir?”
“Coming, Terra.” I sigh tiredly, and look at the quill. It's still writing, undisturbed by my nasty little bump apart from a few awkwardly elongated letters. I grumble to myself, then shake my head and stand up, striding over to the door and opening it to lean out: I have no intent of letting anyone into my study no matter how urgent it is, after all. The fact Hel managed to get in here still fills me with this invaded, disgusted feeling.
The demonic dragon looks down at me for a moment, then she leans in a little too close and asks nervously: “Is this a bad time? I don't want to disturb you...”
I'm tempted to tell her it is just to get rid of her. But after a moment, I shake my head and slip out through the door, closing it behind me and crossing my arms as I look up at her. My duties to Valhalla come first, and I'm sure this isn't a personal call. “No, go ahead. Do you have an incident report for me?”
“Well, yes, but... that's not why I'm here, Lord Kvasir.” Terra bows her head politely, and I frown at her before she smiles at me, blushing only slightly. “I wanted to speak to you about what Hel said. I felt it was important to touch upon this matter as soon as possible.”
“I know that Hel lies and enjoys causing conflict, Terra. It's alright.” I shake my head and hold up a hand, and Terra looks surprised. “I don't believe most of what she says, and our relationship is a professional one. I'm not going to let Hel's words affect that.”
Terra looks uncomfortable for a moment, and then she reaches carefully forwards and grasps my arm. I frown at her as she raises it, and then the bracelet I'm still wearing jingles. I'm surprised to realize I'm still wearing it, actually, as I flex my fingers slowly and look at the teeth and claws on this tribal, rather barbaric ornament...
Maybe I'm a little too harsh. It's not awful, after all. It's... really the first time anyone's given me anything, and it's made in the fashion of the ornamentation Terra bedecks herself in; if it really is the thought that counts with a gift, I suppose that makes this... very important. Very worthwhile. Not just a trinket, but... well...
I feel a little embarrassed, strangely, and I don't know why as I glance up at Terra. She looks back down at me, then smiles and asks quietly: “Is it Aria?”
“Aria? My assistant?” I frown at Terra, who cocks her head curiously before I ask slowly: “What are you implying, Terra? I really don't have time for games and riddles... or at least, not the attention for it right now. It's been a long day...”
Terra sighs and shakes her head, and from the way she looks at me, I can feel her emotional reading scanning over me. I feel a little ruffled, frowning and crossing my arms as I look pointedly up at the demon: I strongly dislike any 'peeking' at my emotions or mind, by psychics or otherwise, and I've asked many demons many, many times to respect that boundary.
Then the demonic dragon leans back, and her smile becomes... is she patronizing me? I feel anger starting to rise, except then the dragon leans forwards and hugs me firmly against her, and my mouth falls dumbly open as I stiffen up instinctively, staring blankly down the hall.
“You really don't understand, do you?” She's not patronizing at all. She's affectionate and... sympathetic? Why is she looking at me like I'm some little rain-drenched kitten? And there's something else there too, in the way she's gazing at me... I don't really recognize it, I just know this is not at all how a stable, professional relationship between employee and administrator is supposed to work.
“Please let go of me. This is not... comfortable.” I grumble, and I push myself quickly backwards as far as her grip on my limb will let me move, feeling ruffled and uneasy... precisely because while almost every part of me is hating this breach of etiquette and conduct, part of me actually... enjoyed it? “Terra, get a hold of yourself. You're a protector of Valhalla and employed to train the Valkyries. I am the King of Valhalla and chief administrator of all operations inside its halls. I am willing to grant you plenty of leeway but there are certain standards that must be met and lines not crossed.”
The draconic demon looks down at me thoughtfully for a few moments, and then she reaches up a claw and offers it to me, saying with surprising eloquence: “I am coming to you not as a demon, or your employee, but as a party to your romantic interests.”
I open my mouth to scoff at the joke... then only stare when I realize she's serious. She's actually serious, and I have no idea what to say as I mouth wordlessly for a few moments, then shake my head in disbelief before I finally manage out: “This... this is completely inappropriate!”
“No, I checked. I've had plenty of time to get used to your... administrative quirks, Lord Kvasir.” Terra says a little too happily. I stare up at her, and she closes her eyes and recites: “The King of Valhalla may not marry outside of the status of gods, but may pursue romantic interests with all of those who possess high-functioning intelligence and are greater than mortal status, so long as they themselves are working in the best interests of Valhalla.
“So, as a First Tier Pride demon working for Valhalla, I may serve as your mistress and-or bedmate.” Terra bows her head to me politely, smiling almost shyly as she adds in a more-hesitant voice: “I know you like things to be... according to Valhalla's codex. I am more than happy to follow that codex, Lord Kvasir. I would be honored to serve you in a capacity as... more than commander of your forces.”
I stare at her blankly. I don't know how to respond to this. I don't really know what to do or say. My mind is working a thousand miles a minute. Romantic partner? Bedmate? Mistress? Is she offering what I think she's offering? And did she really go through all the trouble of looking up the ancient codes of law and etiquette just so she could argue that position with me?
My mouth feels dry. My knees feel wobbly. My head feels light. No, no, this... this must be some evil, sinister trick of Hel's... that's the only thing that makes sense, right? Right? This is all just some elaborate ruse in order to make me lose focus.
“I... am not... looking for a suitor right now.” I say finally, a faint blush in my cheeks, and the demonic dragon is undeterred as she smiles at me. “Your offer is... I find it very considerate but assess that... at the current point and time I do not... require that... level of. Service.”
Terra looks completely undeterred. I don't know what I can possibly say, either, because I realize there's also the very real possibility that I could offend the enormous, draconic demon, and I am suddenly all too well aware that this wouldn't end well for me.
And in that uncomfortable, dumb silence, Terra once more takes the advantage by saying politely: “If I may be so bold, Lord Kvasir... it wouldn't be proper for you to refuse. And it would be good for diplomatic relations between Heaven and Hell, wouldn't it?”
“Arguable.” I mutter, and Terra leans forwards encouragingly. Mimir's head it annoys me. I grimace and push her back a little, and then... realizing there's no real way out of this... I finally sigh and nod to her. “Very well. I will... accommodate you.”
“Kvasir.” Terra says pointedly, and I glare at her before she smiles at me in that oddly-sympathetic way. That... that nice way. It annoys me but it also gives me a funny little feeling, as I look down... and realize she's still holding my arm. Gently but firmly, she's grasping it in one claw, keeping it raised, and I flex my hand slowly as the bone bracelet jangles quietly. “Can I... ask you to do one small thing for me, then? Please be yourself. Not an administrator, but be honest with me, and I will be honest with you. I know there's more to you than... what you present.”
There's silence for a few moments, and I look down and bite my lip uneasily before I sigh and finally pull my arm back, looking at her moodily. “I am myself. I am always myself, Terra. Unfortunately, our job does go towards defining us and I do enjoy much of my work as an administrator. If you don't like that-”
“I am a several thousand year old Pride demon. That doesn't define who I am. I was also an Ironjaw Dragon for several more thousand years in life. That also doesn't define who I must be now.” Terra says gently, and I frown at her before she leans down, gazing into my eyes quietly. I grimace at her closeness and shift uncomfortably, leaning back. “Any more than the fact that I've been sent from Helheim to train Valkyries of Heaven in the art of war has to define who and what I am.
“Lord Kvasir, I think you know that you are who you are, and that's not only a combination of all the things that make you up, but it also comes from the decisions you make and the actions you take.” Terra continues, then she leans forwards and sweeps me up into a sudden, bone crushing hug, making me gargle and stare over her shoulder with a wheeze at the feeling of my ribs being strained. “You are you and I am me and we are who we are, that's that!”
I wheeze loudly, and after a moment, Terra puts me down and gazes at me warmly. I, meanwhile, am struggling to make my lungs inflate as I hammer on my chest, then shake my head quickly and glare up at her, snapping maybe a little harsher than intended: “I don't need lectures on how to find myself!”
Terra giggles. She actually giggles at me. I stare at her, mouthing wordlessly for a moment before I twitch and straighten, and then she reaches up a claw and strokes it through my mane. And I utterly hate it. She annoys me and she frustrates me and she's now lecturing me and being so frustratingly... stupidly... nice...
And that's it, isn't it? I feel my whole body tense up, before all that tension and stress is simply gone, as I realize why she annoys me so much. Why it bothers me... because I keep thinking she's giving me charity and pity. But she's not. She really does like me, she really is just... this nice, this kind, this good to me. She really does want to help, and she's not doing this over pride or superiority... it's my ego that's too sensitive. Sensitive and stupid, as a matter of fact.
I lower my head a little, blushing, feeling a faint spark of shame... and her claw stays there, against my face. I think of what I said before, how she's just an employee... but she is a friend, isn't she? I do care for her, and I care for Aria, and I want to help Excelsior, and there are others around Valhalla who... I suppose... they are all much more than employees. And having those relationships... those are good things, not bad things, right?
I feel like a child thinking of these things. I feel even more childish when I think about all my... well... childish denials of these things. But after a moment, I shake myself out and look up at Terra with a sigh, saying finally: “I'm not... precisely suitor material. I am no God of Valhalla like times past.”
“You always compare yourself to them. I know you want to be like them, Kvasir, but... you're not. You're you, and who you are has led Valhalla towards prosperity and made it so that a demon like me can stand proudly in these hallowed halls, safe and... even able to help, free of the ice.” Terra soothes, and her claw strokes gently over my cheek. I smile, in spite of not wanting to show how... how damn comforting it is. That she said... words I realize I really needed to hear.
I've always been... a little jealous of the ponies. How easily they make friends. How they network and form connections, the way they naturally unify together. How fast they develop these bonds that should take years to make. And their companionship, their refusal to believe in the 'everyone is out only for themselves' scenario... which logically, can never really work anyway. There must be some form of unity and community, there must be willingness to sacrifice a little for society to continue to function: no gear can spin without the help of a hundred other moving parts.
What I believe in is taking care of ourselves, but putting our goals first and foremost. I believe in working towards an ultimate end, and planning as much as possible for every scenario that's likely to take place. And I have come to believe in honor, thanks to my experiences with the Valkyries and Sleipnir... even if I recognize that their idea of honor is often also costly to our own aims and ends.
Yet in this moment, I feel Terra's touch, I rest against it: I've never been touched like this before, by anyone. And I understand why people would vie for it, fight for it, strive for it, as I simply bask in the contact for a moment before I pull quickly away. A faint flush suffuses my cheeks as I shake myself free from her and tent my fingers together. “I... appreciate and accept your offer as a potential-”
Terra sighs, but smiles at me all the same, with that same gentleness. “Lord Kvasir, please. Let's try and keep this informal, shall we?” She reaches up and gently musses up my mane. I glower at her a little, but manage to make myself nod after a moment, even though part of me feels... I don't know. Unsettled. I'm too used to order, law, rule, formality... “May I ask about something, though?”
I look at her moodily, then reach up and rub slowly under my chin, saying carefully: “There will still be boundaries, Terra, and I will not give you special treatment and am going to continue to treat you as an employee of Valhalla, even if-”
Terra reaches up and gently grasps me by the muzzle, firmly holding it shut. I blink dumbly, stunned into silence before she says gently: “I'm not after special treatment like that, Kvasir. You're like... to me, I look at you, and you're like the most gorgeous trophy I could ever have in my cave. I want to wax you and snuggle with you and lick you now and then, and keep you safe and out of harm's way.”
I really don't... exactly know what to say to Terra's metaphor. She clearly means well, somewhat... disconcerting as it is. But she's never exactly been the best with words. So instead I simply decide to nod and smile awkwardly, and she smiles warmly back before letting go of me and saying: “I want to treat you special, because you're special to me. I don't really expect you to treat me any different than you always have, Lord Kvasir, because how you treat me is... very much appreciated. I've worked for many warlords, self-proclaimed gods, and even Hel herself... but I never ever met someone who treated me like you do, and let me act the way I want to.”
I shrug a little, shifting and rubbing at the back of my head before I say finally: “I really don't have any interest in interfering with the activities and personal lives of my employees, so long as it doesn't interfere with their productivity or that of others. My own personal opinions and biases have no bearing on the situation.”
Terra gazes at me as if I've said something wonderful and romantic, which makes me lean back a little awkwardly. “And see? That's why you're so great! Because you have the power to enforce those rules, even make up moral standards... but you let people be people, you strive for equality instead of silly notions of good and evil, right and wrong, correct and not, and... I really, really admire that.”
She's smiling at me again, looking down at me with those big baby-blue eyes. Her metallic scales sparkle a little, like... metal. Like pretty metal. I have a fleeting moment where I think that maybe Terra isn't the worst person with words after all, and then I shake my head before saying finally: “I need to return to my work now.”
The demonic dragon looks at me pointedly, clearing her throat a little, and I sigh and lower my head for a moment before saying finally: “Very well. Why don't you... head to my quarters, Terra, and I'll meet you there to discuss-”
Terra clears her throat louder, and I glower a little at her before she smiles and leans down, kissing my lips chastely for a moment. My mind simply blanks out, and the dragon says gently: “I'm a mistress, not a concubine or a prostitute, Lord Kvasir. What goes on between us isn't about business, but about pleasure. So when you come to your room tonight, I'll ask you to keep your business out of mind, and just let me lead, okay?”
The demon turns and leaves, and I stare dumbly after her. Eventually, my fingers find their way slowly up to touch my lips, before I lick them on reflex and... is that a moment of lightheadedness that passes over me? Oh, Mimir's head. This is too strange. This is all too much for me to deal with at once.
I turn and awkwardly shove my way back into the study, heading quickly over to the quill and wheezing a little as I look down at the paper. My eyes read several of the lines over again, and it's amazing how... even now it's hard to process that yes. Yes, this all just happened. Yes, I'm... I don't even know what I am. I mean, what's going on. I mean... is this smart? Is this a good idea? Could she have a hidden agenda? Is this a joke of Hel's? Will... Gymbr try to hurt her...
I swallow at these thoughts, then take a slow breath and reach up to carefully adjust my tie, closing my eyes and fortifying myself. Then I look down at the scroll and the enchantment, and decide that... no. This is good. Strangely, it's Hel's words that come back to me, about choosing my friends wisely...
That's better advice than I thought it was, Hel's words or not.
Entry Five
It's been a few days since Hel last showed her face, during our first skirmish with her forces. Since then, we've suffered no further attacks and have established a vigil at the Gates of Valhalla. Even if Hel's forces break into the Vale again, we have a carefully-engineered response plan in place now, and we'll deal with her aggression more efficiently.
The Pious don't seem to care that I've temporarily sealed the Gates, leaving some of them inside Valhalla and the rest trapped outside in wild Asgard, any more than they care that their camp was damaged by Hel's stampede of demons. I'm having Watchers keep a close eye on their operations, but they've made little progress on their Cenobium. Yet even if the land refuses to be tilled by their hands and the forest continually presses in against the foundation they're trying to lay, they don't seem to be frustrated at all. They only work with that same calm diligence, like machines. I hate machines; they remind me of Valthrudnir.
Terra has... our relationship is... that is to say, I... I'm not sure. Our professional duties remain intact and unhindered, but she has all but abandoned living at the barracks to instead spend her time in my personal quarters. She insists on helping me get dressed every morning and we... talk. It's uncomfortable for me, but she presses and pressures me and usually... I feel better once we actually begin to dialogue.
Aria took half a day off work the other day. I think it has to do with my personal relationship with Terra... or at least, that's what I've been told. I've spoken with Aria about keeping my professional and personal life separate and that I've already ensured neither will impact the other, and Terra insisted on having an aside with Aria as well. Aria returned from this looking uncomfortable... but she has settled, although sometimes she looks at me in a way that I feel... I don't know. Funny about. Maybe a little angry at myself about something I can't even quite identify.
Everything else has settled, but that's not to say there's no pressing business to be done: within a few minutes I expect the arrival of the Valkyries, as well as Sleipnir and Antares Mīrus. I have to discuss the Pious with them, and set up a meeting with Hel. As always happens when they visit, whether it's announced or not, Gymbr has completely vanished from Valhalla. Although he couldn't leave... at least, I don't think he could cross the Giant's Denial or get through the sealed Gates... it's possible he's used a portal to go... who knows where?
But that's another worry off my mind, at least for now, so I don't question it or think about it too deeply. I only try and focus on the positives as I sit here at a small table in Valhalla's immense library, reading through transcripts and documents.
Even for me, the business at hand is very dry: combing through immigration and birth records, and food import documentation to check whether we need to increase or decrease the flow of staple foods from the mortal world. For upwards of ninety percent of Valhalla, food is a luxury: therefore only 'money' crops are grown, designed to produce the foods that the Blessed and others are most likely to spend money on for comfort or celebratory purposes, and to provide the feast halls with their quote-unquote 'endless' meals. Dietary needs are rarely taken into account.
There are those who do still require nutrition through food to live, however, and if Valhalla is willing to feed those who don't truly need to eat, then we should be willing to extend our courtesies to those who do. As this number tends to rise and fall each year, it requires tedious adjustments that can only be done by assessing the current total of citizens who require food, prospective growth trends, and the current import volume.
I don't find it interesting, but I do recognize the necessity. Every coin saved is a coin earned, and which can be put towards making Valhalla better. I might be boring, but boring people are what help keep the world stable and secure.
I flip through another report, jotting several of the statistics down to help with my population growth framework, and then I begin to turn my attention back towards a paper listing the usage of wheat by percentage before a voice interrupts my almost-pleasant monotony: “Great idiot! And what, perchance, art thou doing, selling a parcel of land to creatures thou knows not even the names of!”
That would be Brynhild. It's not just the way she talks that gives it away, or her voice. It's not just the childish stomping of her hooves, either. It's the very essence she exudes now that I'm aware of her, like a thunderstorm trapped in a bottle.
I look up and glare at this former Valkyrie as she strides boldly over to my table. She was reborn as a winged unicorn... although instead of a natural horn, one made of crystal now juts from her skull, a prosthetic to replace a horn lost in battle several years ago. And as always, she's accompanied by the Lich, Twilight Sparkle, and her so-called husband, a Clockwork Pony that calls himself Scrivener Blooms.
Scrivener Blooms always makes me feel uncomfortable. A Lich I could care less about, she's nothing different from a thousand things I deal with every day, and she's much more intelligent than many of these irritating little ponies. I know it's unfair, but because he is a Clockwork Pony, a Replicant, a project of Valthrudnir's... I'm always a little wary of him, and a little harder on his ideas. Even if he fought harder than I did against the Jötnar .
Brynhild is glaring at me, and I only look sourly back before I put down my quill and look past her, over the rest of the merry band she's brought with her. I nod to Freya, who smiles at me kindly, and ignore Sleipnir's bouncing and waving. Instead, I make a moue of distaste as I see not only Antares Mīrus, the child of Brynhild and Scrivener, but also Sleipnir's daughter Aphrodisia Celeste Pie. “What is she doing here?”
“Well, I'm a demon, so I'm totally not breaking the rules or anything!” trills the mare, and I groan. Yes, it's technically true: Sleipnir is something beyond a simple Blessed, and his wife Pinkamena is a First Tier demon. Aphrodisia is a First Tier demon herself, but... she was raised in a mortal world, grew up with mortal law and culture, knows more about Midgard than she does about Helheim or Valhalla...
“Do not try and avoid the conversation, Kvasir, answer my damned question!” Brynhild snaps, and then she slams her front hooves down on the tabletop, scattering my papers in every which way as I glower at her sourly. Scrivener Blooms gives a lame smile and Twilight Sparkle, to her credit, appears to try and at least calm the Valkyrie down, but it's only when Freya steps forwards that Brynhild finally relents a little.
Freya is also a winged unicorn. Celestia, I believe others call her, like they call Brynhild by the name 'Luna.' Cute names, I suppose, but I'll always prefer their true names... I know the Valkyries do as well, even if Sleipnir seems to like the new name he's taken on.
Freya is intelligent, cultured, and in a way... cunning. She knows politics inside and out, how to manipulate, how to turn things in her favor and guide them along in whatever direction she chooses. She's someone who I've learned a lot from over the years, to be entirely honest... and who I look forwards to learning more from as well.
Not that she doesn't have her quirks: the key that hangs from one ear can testify to that, with her... odd relationship with a Draconequus, of all things. Then again, I suppose I'm not one to talk with Terra as my mistress, so to speak. But maybe that's helped me understand her a little more: I never really did get before now precisely how their relationship could even exist.
“I think I understand why you did this, Kvasir, but I would have appreciated more notice. I have to ask, though... have the Pious asked for anything else? And could they be affiliated with Hel in any way?” Freya asks, and I smile wryly at this thought.
“The only thing I'm sure of, Freya, is that the Pious and Hel have nothing to do with each other.” I pause, then scowl and brush my papers quickly away from where Brynhild is attempting to read them. Sleipnir is still waving at me like an idiot but I continue to ignore him, as well as his daughter's childish giggles. “And they haven't pressed any issue, even reopening the Gates. As I'm sure you're aware, Hel is currently testing my forces.”
“I am. We heard quite a bit of discussion on that subject already, as a matter of fact.” Freya replies eloquently, and I nod to her before Brynhild pokes at the larger mare with her crystal horn. Freya only gently pushes her younger sibling away, unfettered by her childish aggression; she's had more practice at maintaining her calm than I have. Something I admire but far from wish to endure myself. “I also believe you wished to speak to Antares on the subject of his terms of acceptance to serving as a Knight of Heaven.”
“When you say it like that, Freya, you make it sound as if I've already agreed to modifying the laws of Paradise for his privilege alone.” I reply moodily, although admittedly what irks me the most is the fact that I know my interview with Antares is likely going to end with me making him a liaison to Valhalla. I would just prefer the stallion not have this knowledge from the start and actually attempt to make a good impression on me, instead of taking advantage of his... special birthright.
To his credit, Antares' behavior has improved from the child he used to be. He has matured over the years, set goals for himself, and during his approved visits to Valhalla he has behaved appropriately and done the extra work asked of him. Right now he looks nervous, and I study him for a few moments before finally sighing and letting my eyes flick to ever-cheerful, still waving Sleipnir, saying drolly to the earth-pony shaped demideity: “Yes, it's very nice to see you as well.”
Sleipnir nods a few times, then slaps his nephew on the back – almost knocking him flat – as he declares: “I shall vouch for Antares, friend Kvasir! He shan't let thee down if thou will only give him but a single chance!”
Antares smiles lamely as he picks himself up, and Brynhild nods fervently, overriding anything her son might want to say as she adds firmly: “And if thou shan't give him a fair chance, great dumb god-thing, I shall make it hoof party in thy face's house!”
I look at Brynhild as Scrivener and Twilight both awkwardly drag her away from the table a few paces, making her huff, and then I sigh tiredly and roll my eyes. To his credit, Antares isn't reacting much either way: in the past he would be making a scene whether he meant to or not, but now he's only sitting there, looking embarrassed but not flinching or acting like a child when my eyes rove over him. It's a good first assessment.
I turn my eyes back towards Freya, and say quietly: “I haven't heard anything from Hel lately, but I have no doubt she'll show up shortly, to force a meeting even if you're not yet ready for one. She wants this very badly, as I outlined in my letter.”
“You mentioned she was willing to trade an orb of soulstone for it: soulstone shaped and charged by her own hand. And you mentioned that you're going to be passing it on to an ally of yours.” Freya's craft and cunning both clearly show in the way she makes these statements, lays down evidence... and at the same time, uses them to ask a clear question.
I don't want to lie to her. It's not just that I'm well-aware she'll easily trap me in any lie I make, that even if I am a master of politics, her experience and candor both are far beyond my own... it's that it feels like it would be... wrong, to lie to any of these strange creatures. Ponies, Valkyries, demons, whatever they might call themselves or be... I've let myself get close to them. But not in a bad way, I think.
But all the same, I can't tell them about Gymbr: am I lying through omission? Perhaps, but I don't know if I entirely believe in that concept. After all, we can't be expected to tell even our closest friends every little detail of our day, any more than we can reveal every secret we have at leisure. Logic is black and white, but life is not: that is part of the reason that I often find myself so frustrated with my duties as an administrator, trying to reconcile a particular view of the world with the way the world actually works.
Finally, I respond tactfully and slowly: “The ally who wants this artifact is very powerful, and... I recognize that I am putting a dangerous object into the hands of an entity that may not always have Valhalla's best interests at heart. But he has promised his assistance, as long as I keep my promise to maintain his privacy and secrecy.”
There's silence for a few moments, and Brynhild opens her mouth, presumably to scoff at me... but Freya is quick to raise a hoof and quiet her. After a moment, she turns to me and says quietly: “I trust you, Kvasir, and I trust your judgment. If something happens, please don't hesitate to contact me. We're in this together.”
I nod and keep myself calm, even if... her words do mean more to me than I want to admit. There's silence for a moment, and then I return a sour look towards Brynhild when the sapphire mare leans forwards and glares at me pointedly.
My eyes rove back and forth until I catch sight of Excelsior, lingering shyly near the back of the group: he must have been the one to lead them up from the portal they probably took to get here. I raise a hand to get his attention, then say clearly: “Please see our guests to their quarters. Antares Mīrus, I'd like you to come with me.”
“I can see myself to our quarters, I am Valkyrie!” Somehow, Brynhild manages to both whine and snap at me with her response. And as always, she manages to get under my skin, no matter how many times I tell myself to just ignore her and she'll eventually go away. She has to, since she's soulbound to Scrivener Blooms, and he often attempts to slink off while she's in mid-rant about something. “Long before thou wert anything but... blood still in our veins, we were ruling and walking about and... seeing... other guests to their rooms! I do not desire guest rooms! I desire my own room!”
I rub at my temples slowly, closing my eyes for a moment. This is not putting me in a good mood for my conversation with her child. “We have discussed this already. The Valkyrie barracks now belong to the new Valkyries.”
“'Twas my home first! And I am still Valkyrie!” Brynhild sounds outraged, and I open one eye to glower down at her. I know she's exaggerating her emotions, but that knowledge makes me no less annoyed. “How wouldst thou feel, to have thy ancient home stolen from thee?”
“My 'ancient home' was a glass box, Brynhild. You're very free to take it away from me if you like, and lock yourself up inside. For eternity. I think everyone might appreciate that.” I retort, and Brynhild glares at me as I look moodily back down at her, our eyes locked. The worst she can do is punch me, after all, and I'm very used to pain.
Finally, Brynhild huffs, and then she turns around as Freya nods politely and perhaps a little apologetically to me. I sigh tiredly and let my shoulders slump as Excelsior is quick to lead the ponies away, then I turn my eyes to the one who remains: Antares.
I gesture to him, and he approaches with an awkward smile. He has his mother's eyes, but a coat even darker than his father's and the same rugged white mane. And also much like his parents, he has scars: on his back, where this unicorn once possessed wings, and over his chest.
He's not ashamed of them, but nor does he wear them proudly. I'm glad for both of those things: I know the cost of being afraid to show yourself, and I've seen too many warriors who think these wounds are marks of honor. They're not: they're just pieces of our body that never healed entirely, and still carry the aches of the mistakes we made to earn them.
My hands tighten my tie, and my eyes study the unicorn before I turn and gesture for him to follow. He does so, politely. He doesn't rush me and he remains quiet and respectful. He doesn't know it, but he's already gone a long way towards getting my approval from these things alone.
We walk out into a less-traveled corridor, and he keeps pace with me as I keep my eyes ahead, but watch him in the corner of my vision. Yes, he's nervous, but keeping himself in line, even if a little bit of his mother shows in the way he fidgets. But much as I dislike Brynhild, I also don't not like her. There's a subtle difference there, but an important one.
I bring him to my office: it's tucked far away from everything else, past the halls that are still being renovated and opened, past the dust and the cobwebs and the populace. There's only a few other offices around here, in the place many of the Blessed and angels have started jokingly calling 'employee resources.' But it's quiet, and I like my office to be away from the noise and the politics, just like my personal study is a little piece of... well, Heaven. I suppose, knowing where I work, that metaphor must seem like delicious irony. It... is, isn't it?
But I don't let my thoughts stray too far, as I sit myself behind my large, clean desk, gesturing for Antares to take a seat in one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs. Purposefully uncomfortable: just like the portraits on the walls and the bottleneck architecture of the room that gives me plenty of freedom but seems to enclose whoever is on the other side of the desk, it's all designed to keep meetings as short as possible. All very simple environmental psychology.
Antares keeps his focus on me, even as he fidgets in his seat. I look back at him, but decide to begin the conversation: out of kindness or because I want to make this quick, I'm not sure. “I've heard several times, on and off for the last few years, that you want to join us and serve as a Knight of Valhalla. And I'm sure that you've been told, Antares Mīrus, this is simply not possible. As it is, the fact you're permitted to join your parents on these little visits to Heaven and to pursue your romantic interests with someone who has, for all intents and purposes, 'passed on...' this is all highly unusual. And not something I willingly sign off on.”
The stallion nods to me, and he doesn't speak. I wait a few moments, and when he keeps himself quiet, I continue quietly: “Furthermore, even assuming in the future that you do meet the requirements for an immortal to be permitted permanent residence in Valhalla... and immigration is a long and tedious task... I will not approve it solely on the basis of your unconditional love for Prestige Luster. She is a Valkyrie, and she is a Blessed. And you only recently ceased to age, is that correct?”
“Yes, sir. I still need to eat, but... I only need a couple hours' rest each night now to fully recharge, and I'm not getting any older.” Antares halts, and then he smiles a little at me as he meets my eyes honestly. “I want to be with Prestige. That's obvious and lying about it would be pretty stupid. But that's not my only reason for doing this. I thought... I thought I wanted to be a Starlit Knight, but it never suited me. I thought I wanted to be an adventurer, but I realized I never wanted to go anywhere on my own, alone. But I do know what I want to do is protect ponies, and to carry on my mother's legacy.
“I have a plan for my future.” Antares continues with only the slightest hint of anxiety, but when he looks up, he's determined. His eyes burn with his confidence. “I'm the son of a Valkyrie. In the past I moaned and complained and whined about being stuck in the shadow of my parents, but I was looking at it all wrong. I'm honored by it. I have something huge to live up to, but the only real thing that was ever stopping me from doing that was myself.
“I... I did some research.” Antares is a little more hesitant now, as he plunges into a subject that he likely knows I know every loophole and regulation to, but he seems to think he's found a decent argument in. “An eternity is approximately the span of a single mortal life. If I live for one eternity on the mortal world, I can be transferred to Valhalla with the approval of a Magistrate of Heaven or someone like you and bypass immigration. Then I can apply to be a Knight of Valhalla.
“But what I want to be is... I want to do what my parents do. I want to help protect the layers, not just Valhalla.” Antares says quietly and firmly. It's a childish notion, a childish wish... and I respect him for expressing it. “So I'm going to train on the mortal realm and... I would like to apply for a messenger position between Valhalla and Midgard. I understand I have to memorize a lot of laws and duties, and I would only be permitted to travel between Heaven and the mortal world in special circumstances and to deliver sensitive information, but it would be really good for me and it would... look good for when I apply to transfer to Valhalla way down the road.”
Antares stops. He's blushing, but forcing himself to keep eye contact, and I can see how nervous he is. All things that tell me he's serious, and given this a lot of thought. I rub slowly at the underside of my muzzle, thinking for a moment... then I shake my head and say quietly: “No.”
He looks crestfallen... but he doesn't temper tantrum, he doesn't shout, he just looks... disappointed. Which means he also recognized what he was asking was a long shot, and he asked it anyway. And I like that he's not getting emotional: he recognizes even without me explaining why, why I said no. Good; there's no need to draw this out any further.
“I would like to offer you the position of liaison.” I say calmly, and Antares looks up with surprise... and hope. I... I admittedly like the way he brightens up. I should be more impartial, but... I like seeing him this way. “Sleipnir is the official liaison between Midgard and Valhalla, but he has never once filed a report or even sent so much as a status update. Considering the unfortunately-consistent trend of your parents to attract trouble of every shape and form, these status updates would be extremely helpful. I would not only be able to better offer aid from Valhalla, I would also be able to better protect Heaven from any possible egress.
“A competent liaison would also be useful for ensuring better delivery standards for the All Father's Day that I believe a certain pony in this room is responsible for starting.” I pause for a moment and study his reaction, which is a lame, embarrassed grin. I see his mother in that look and it gives me both hope and a twist of apprehension in my gut, like I know this is going to end up causing me trouble. “And lastly, I could assign duties to a liaison that I would hesitate to have Freya or Brynhild spend their time on. They are not only free agents, but Valkyries: they are not messengers.”
“But I would be?” Antares asks before he can stop himself: if not for his tone, it would be rude. He's quick to correct himself, though, saying hurriedly: “I mean, these duties aren't... combat or search and rescue, but administrative for the most part, right?”
“Correct. Politics.” I nod to him, then pause for a few long moments. He's looking at me, excited and eager, but careful to keep himself in check: good. I pick up after about ten seconds of silent measurement. “The position cannot be handled lightly. I will require you to not only spend three months being trained in Valhalla's standards of etiquette, but I will also ask Freya to mentor you in diplomatic relations and have my own personal aide, Excelsior, teach you the basics of conflict resolution. Your physical training will have to be placed on the back burner for now, understood? This job requires more work than simply serving as messenger boy.”
Antares nods to me, only hesitating a little. I can tell he already hopes that he'll be able to balance both... but even if his immortality is truly taking root and reducing his need to sleep and eat to almost nothing, I'll be honestly surprised if he can. He may not end up physically exhausted, but mental tiredness can be even more draining.
Either way, it'll be a learning experience for him, and how he reacts and deals with the new levels of stress will teach me what I need to know. He's still staring at me, looking like he's having trouble really processing the depth of my words, which is... understandable. And I can see he feels like he's being given a gift, or special privilege, and I have to make clear he's not.
I lean forwards, my eyes moody, my voice even as I say: “If you screw this up, Antares Mīrus, I will have all privileges and responsibilities immediately revoked, and I will personally file a report noting your failure, however it comes about. You'll be barred from Valhalla for at least two measures of eternity. I want you to understand the depth of importance of this job.”
The stallion winces a little, but he nods quickly and salutes me. “Yes, sir!”
He doesn't say anything further. He only looks... ready. Interesting. He has grown up quite a bit. I study him thoughtfully, then shake my head and lean back, relaxing a little in my chair as I tap my fingers slowly against the tabletop. I don't want to give him the official job right away, to be honest... first I want to test him a little more. Ensure he can handle the duties I'm going to give him, make him understand... how hard this job is going to be on him at times, and why he can't simply slack off.
An idea comes to mind. I open my desk drawer and pull out a slip of paper and an envelope, and as I pen a short letter, I explain: “I want your first task to be to deliver this to the Gates of Valhalla. It's a great distance away, but as long as you stay on the road, it shouldn't be more than ten hours' march. There's a time-space distortion that allows for fast travel.”
“Yeah. Fast.” Antares says before he can stop himself, and I look up at him mildly for a moment, which makes him look a little embarrassed as he clears his throat and nods awkwardly. “I mean, of course, sir. I'll be fast.”
“As long as you do not step off the road, for anything.” I warn, and Antares nods awkwardly before I continue: “After delivering the letter, you may rest for twenty minutes, then I expect you to return to the Castle. The same rules apply: do not halt for any reason.”
Antares nods uncomfortably, and then he bites his lip before asking hesitantly: “How does the enchantment on the road work?”
“It's less an enchantment, more the passive magic of Valhalla... an effect of 'Heaven,' if you will.” I say mildly, and my words have a faint ring of distaste even in my own ears. I can tell Antares, with his natural acuity, is able to read into this... it annoys me on one hand, pleases me a little on the other. His ability to read people is one of the reasons he'll make an excellent liaison. “It works by increasing distance traveled by exponential increments. Space-time magic, difficult to replicate, dependent on the fact the entire path itself is alive with the enchantment, as you termed it. If you step off the path, the magic effect is dispelled completely.”
“I... don't get it.” Antares admits after a moment, and I sigh and drop my face in a hand. It's too complicated for me to try and explain to him right now, anyway: better to just assign him his task for now.
“Then just don't step off the path and I foresee no problems.” I say distastefully as I fold the letter up and slip it into the envelope, then I pause. I could simply have a short-range portal opened: there's so much energy and time-space distortion in Valhalla that it's easy to create small 'rips' in reality, portals that allow large distances to be passed in moments. But this isn't just about efficiency: this is about giving the still-unknown quantity of Antares a test. “Here. Go find Aria and she'll outfit you with whatever you need. I'm giving you a twenty-two hour window to make it there and back.”
Antares winces, then he nods quickly as his horn glows, taking the letter with telekinesis. He stands up, then hesitates for a moment before he gathers the courage to ask: “What if... something happens during travel?”
“Then deal with it, but remember your job.” I brush him off: he winces a bit, but keeps his mouth shut and nods awkwardly before turning to leave with the letter. I watch him go, feeling thoughtful before I finally shake myself out and stand: I might as well head back to the library and finish dealing with those reports before all hell breaks loose.
I have omitted and edited out some tedious and confidential information, regarding my administrative duties. I've decided for continuity's sake to note this and address the issue of Antares Mīrus, and his return to the Castle of Valhalla... more than ten hours late.
I'm not very happy about this. I sit in my office, arms crossed, looking down at him with distaste. He's fidgeting awkwardly back and forth, waiting for me to say something, and I finally ask in a sour voice: “What happened?”
I'm neither at my most professional nor my most forgiving. Brynhild has been rampaging around Valhalla causing all manner of problems with Sleipnir, and I have this uncomfortable feeling that Freya has been studying me and trying to deduce who my secretive ally is. The Pious have also been making... strange interactions with my visitors from Looking Glass World: they see m to be trying to leave a impression on them, and get information about Selene... which Brynhild, of course, won't give them. Nor will Freya, but Brynhild's refusals are far louder and far more... direct.
Hel has shown up several times: never for any scheduled meeting, rather only to harass, misdirect and worst of all, help Brynhild out in her antics. I dislike that the two appear to be getting along, even if it's often in an exceedingly-hostile fashion. It hasn't done much to contribute to my mood, and at the same time... I'm very nervous about what Hel is learning just by being around the Valkyrie she's shown such an interest in.
At the moment, I keep my attention on Antares Mīrus. He's still fidgeting, trying to come up with a good answer, and I lean forwards and bang a palm down on top of my desk, making him flinch to attention as I snap: “Well?”
He clears his throat, then grins up at me lamely. I see both his mother and his father in that look and it just serves to frustrate me further, as I immediately understand the future is going to be filled with more events just like this. “Uh, there... there was a mare, and she needed help.”
“A mare needed help. You stopped to help a Blessed along the path.” I say slowly, and Antares nods awkwardly before I close my eyes and reach up to grasp my own features, feeling a twist of... disappointment.
Like explaining to a child, I say slowly: “This is Heaven. You were sent to deliver a message from Valhalla to the Gates of Heaven. Mares in 'danger' in Heaven are not usually in actual danger, Antares Mīrus, but rather-”
“She... she was, though!” he blurts, and I glower at him through my fingers. He winces, but continues hurriedly: “There were... demons, three of them, and she was really scared and... well, they were just harassing her, just being jerks, but... I mean, they were demons...”
“Demons.” I say slowly, dropping my hand away from my face and scowling. This is his excuse? “Valhalla does play host to a small population of demons who have immigrated or been conscripted from Helheim. Their presence is not unusual, and they are monitored closer than most Blessed. If there was a serious problem, a Knight of Valhalla would have been sent to assess and deal with the disturbance. We keep a close eye on our citizens.”
“That probably came out a little less comforting than you meant it to be.” Antares says, and I stare at him as he stares back at me, his eyes widening slightly before he suddenly rambles on, looking like he's lost control of his mouth: “And we were out in the middle of nowhere, and she was really scared, and they were enjoying scaring her! Hell, it was pure luck that I saw her and...”
He struggles for a moment, then looks up almost defiantly at me. “Sure, I could have just left her and completed the mission. And maybe you're right, maybe someone saw and... some Knight was going to poof in and take care of 'em, but when? After they started to hurt her? No, I'm not going to just sit back and go about my business and let something horrible happen, I'm going to go up and... and punch the jerks in the face, and... if you don't like that, then... you can take this job and shove it!”
Antares glares up at me, even though he's blushing a little. I stare back at him, and then I slowly close my eyes and reach up to rub my temples before the stallion adds lamely to me: “Although it'd be great if I could keep the job and everything, too. I can hit people faster next time.”
I open my eyes and glare at him. He's picking up more of his mother's habits, in spite of how much his father's nature he has, too. He's calm and rational one moment, then there's that burst of... Brynhild ... and then he relents a little back into that state of... amicability. And he's becoming less and less embarrassed about his passionate outbursts and his... annoyingly, childishly pure way of looking at the world. That there's a bit of good in everyone, and we can all get along and make things work out.
I rub slowly at my face, then sigh tiredly and lean forwards, resting my hands against the tabletop. Yes, he's late. Yes, he did exactly what I asked him not to. And yes, at the end of the day... he probably made the right choice.
He's put me in a quandary, but... it's admittedly a dilemma I half-expected, simply because whenever Brynhild or her family get involved... everything that can go wrong does go wrong. I sigh and shake my head slowly, then study the stallion for a few moments before finally nodding to him grudgingly. “I will have a Watcher review the events, and someone sent out to question the alleged victim. If everyone corroborates that you stepped in and aided her in a time of need, then I'll make your liaison position official. I only hope you do a better job of balancing your obligations in the future.”
Antares looks relieved... and maybe a little proud of himself, too. But he should be: he's realized that it's not his age or immortality that make him either an adult or mature, but his actions, and more and more he's been tempering his actions to something... noble, in a strange, Brynhildian way.
I sigh; I want to question why I'm getting myself involved with another member of Brynhild's family, why I'm actually encouraging more contact with these ponies who are so... so frustratingly emotional instead of logical, but I know why. Because they're better suited to these positions than I am, and Antares... has a bright destiny. I would like to nurture that, and ensure that he reaches his potential: less for his sake, and more for my own. His parents often say that he's better than they are, that he's the one who can become a true hero, and I have come to believe that.
Valhalla needs heroes. Champions, real defenders of justice, not just... cardboard cutouts and dressed-up nobles. Sleipnir is perhaps the truest force of 'good' I have ever met, and Brynhild and Freya would do anything to save this universe we live in and protect the innocent... but they do not inspire the same way, they do not fit the image and mindset I want to cultivate in Valhalla. That is not to underestimate their value: only to say that they're... different.
Antares may have a past of childish follies, but... they were also while he was a child. He has not grown up perfectly, and he's made many mistakes. But he's learned from each and every one of them, and it's because he's suffered so much for the mistakes that he's made that I have reason to believe he won't repeat them. What truly makes Antares different isn't that he's 'good' or 'pure:' it's that he reflects upon and truly does learn from his mistakes.
And Brynhild, meanwhile, still refuses to believe that drinking the fountain water will make her sick, no matter how many times she does so, and then proceeds to spend all day following me around belching and whining and making other disgusting noises from guzzling so much sanctified water.
So yes. I'm going to give him a chance. I know that I should give him a chance, for a thousand reasons. I know that he deserves it, and I know that if I can work with him, if he'll listen to me, he'll be a great asset.
We look at each other for a few moments; in a strange way, we need each other, and I think he instinctively understands that. I nod to him slowly, and he nods awkwardly back after a moment before he clears his throat and sits up, saying finally: “I... I really appreciate this, Kvasir. And if I can repay you or anything, in any way, I... I will. Because I know that even though I'm working for you, you're really going out of your way for me. Especially... considering my family and all and everything.”
I shake my head and give a thin smile in spite of myself. Part of me wants to agree with him, the rest of me feels... well... “No, Antares. I hope that in the long run, I'll benefit from this more than you will.”
He nods awkwardly again, and there's silence for a few moments before I sit down and decide that I've done enough testing and poking. I should give him his first real job. “As my liaison, you carry my authority, and you have to be able to act out my orders. You need to be able to communicate, fearlessly, even with those far above your station. I want you to be respectful but firm, and I do not want you to be intimidated: when you represent yourself, you are nothing but a pony. When you represent me, you will insist on being treated as I would be. I do not mean that you are to throw around your power or put on airs or expect ridiculous favors. If they go out of their way to deride or disrespect you, you will respond as if they have derided and disrespected Valhalla and Valhalla's interests.”
Antares looks at me blankly for a moment, but with his acuity, I know he understands: he just isn't processing it. I give him a few moments, waiting as patiently as I can until he finally splutters: “So... so I should be a jerk?”
I give him a look that tells him I truly appreciate the sentiment, and he winces a little and holds up his front hooves, starting to babble like an idiot, but I quickly hold up a hand and cut him off, saying moodily: “Enough. Yes, if you really want to phrase it that way, you may 'be a jerk.' Most important of all, you must make Valhalla's strength clear, and that we will not back down or be intimidated.”
“I... I really don't want to get my head cut off.” Antares replies after a moment, and I sigh in exasperation and rub slowly at my features.
“For one, that would be an act of war, and even as weak as we are, Freya and Brynhild are both Valkyries. The Valkyries were the vanguard of the warrior gods and a large part of the reason their wrath was so feared.” I explain slowly, and when Antares doesn't look convinced, I add distastefully: “I will also ensure that you are granted a form of divine protection. A fairly powerful form of shielding.”
Antares looks a little relieved, beginning to nod, and then I point at the door and say moodily: “But for the moment, your first task is to go and find Hel, and remind her to hold up her end of the bargain I made with her recently. I also want her to meet with me. Do not take 'no' for an answer.”
The stallion mouths wordlessly for a few moment, then he finally manages: “You... you want me to go and... I... you can't be serious.”
“Yes, because I'm known for my joking attitude.” I say acerbically, and Antares winces and shrinks back a bit. There's a few moments of silence, and then I sigh and shake my head, gesturing at the door again. “Hel is continually haunting the Valkyries. Nor would she harm you. She has a.... certain affection for you that she's made clear.”
“Oh yeah. Yeah, that... makes me feel just great.” Antares says awkwardly after a few moments, and then he shakes his head quickly before sighing and standing up. He hesitates, though, and I tilt my head before he clears his throat and drops his head forwards, saying finally: “Thank you for... you know. Giving me this opportunity. I promise I won't let you down.”
I only nod once, and then I sit back as Antares turns and heads to the door. I watch as he leaves before sighing quietly... then slowly scowl and look up as I hear a quiet giggle and feel the faint touch of frost tickle over me.
Then fingers grasp into my shoulder, and I look moodily up to see Hel already beside me, grinning widely and winking at me. “Now, Kvasir, you know all you gotta do is say my name and I'll be there in tickety-boo. But don't worry. I left another puppet on autopilot for the kid to find. And to keep up my 'wreck Valhalla the most' contest with Brynhild. I really like that crazy little lady.”
I only look sourly at Hel for a few moments, then I sigh tiredly and shake my head out slowly, resisting the urge to rise to the bait. “You've gotten what you wanted. Where is the soulstone orb?”
“Oh, stop it. You know I can't lie, Kvasir.” She pauses thoughtfully. “Unless I'm lying about that. But why would I lie about not being able to lie? And if I can't lie, I can't lie to you that I can lie to demonstrate that I can actually lie which kind of proves that I can't lie except not really because I could be lying about that which would make me a liar instead of a not liar...”
She halts, staring at me with her hands half-raised, glassy eyes wide, and I simply look at her for a few long moments before saying moodily: “I don't trust you enough to believe that you don't lie to me.”
“But that means you trust me a little?” she asks brightly, batting her eyes at me. “Oh, Kvasir, golly-gosh doesn't that make me just feel like the most special little girl in the whole wide world!”
“I trust you enough to hope you won't renege on our deal.” I reply icily, and Hel finally groans and rolls her eyes, spreading her arms wide.
“If it'll settle the pants you don't wear, Kvasir, I'm shaping it right now. I just hope for your sake you know what you're doing with it.” Hel replies, and I frown at her as the ice puppet sniffs loudly and crosses her arms. “What's wrong, you can't multitask? Or are you just surprised again that I know this is like your anniversary gift for your cute little friend Gymbr? Or are you horrified that I know all about how you're sleeping with Terra, which is really cute and all, and no, I didn't put her up to that. Why in the place named after me would I bother with a spy when I know everything about you already?”
I look at her for a few moments, keeping my expression neutral even as a chill runs down my spine. And Hel looks back at me, feigning innocence but only half-hiding that almost predatory grin, that gleam in her eyes. “What's wrong, Mr. Seriouscorn? I'm pretty sure the dragon doesn't still have your tongue.”
I stare at her for a few moments, then slowly close my eyes. My mind can't take the combination of stress, idiocy, and disbelief. All I can do is shut the world out for a moment as much as possible before I lower my head and ask Hel in a slow, quiet voice: “Are you going to interfere with what I'm doing?”
Hel shrugs, smiling at me coyly... but there's an almost visible ripple through the air as she replies kindly: “I have the feeling that wouldn't be in my best interests to do, Kvasir. You just watch your little hoofsies...” She leans down towards me, reaching up and touching a finger against my nose, drawing my eyes uneasily to hers. “Before everything goes wrong... try and come to ask me for help, won't you? Because it would be so disappointing to see Valhalla collapse again. We're just starting to have some fun now, after all.”
I grit my teeth, and then Hel giggles and straightens, hugging herself as her frost-glass eyes gleam. “Just something to bear in mind, honeybutt. You go down in flames, and I lose my main source of entertainment and have to go back to knitting. I really don't want to go back to knitting.”
“Thank you Hel, I will take your advice into consideration.” I say as calmly as I can: thanks to the mix of anger and confusion and sheer... discomfort, calm isn't all that hard to fake. My mind is back wanting to just shut down and I feel... I don't know what to think. All I know is that I need a moment aside to settle my thoughts and get things back in order, one way or another.
Hel smiles at me slyly, then she bows mockingly before her ice puppet simply shatters apart into snowy motes. These fade rapidly away into nothing, and I sigh quietly before shaking myself out and murmuring, as if to try and convince myself it's true: “Everything is going to be fine.”
It's not something... comforting, though. It's a logical truth, yes, but... in a colder, more sinister way than I think most people realize. Because yes, no matter what, everything will be okay in the end: that's because when the end has come and gone, you no longer exist. You can no longer be in a state of great pain or great joy or any other emotional extreme or turmoil. You're just... okay. Things have reached... the end, the inevitable conclusion, whether your life was success or failure, happy or sad or... anything else.
Death is the only accountant with one hundred percent accuracy and a one hundred percent success rate. Death is the only businessman who, at the end of the day, has a company that will never run out of customers, nor out of business. And dark and upsetting as that sounds... it also means, conversely, there will never be a lack of life to be lived before we die, and that the universe is always going to carry on.
That's what I believe. Those are the thoughts I take strength from, as I pick myself up and shake myself out. And that is what I want to help maintain, as I look down at my desk with a sigh, and hope that I'm making the right decision. Because, ironically, if I fail to protect this post-life palace... Mr. Death with take his business elsewhere, and it will be the living ponies who end up suffering the worst consequences of my inadequacy.
Entry Six
I feel sore and tired: it's been another long day, during the course of which we suffered our second attack from Hel. It was a smaller unit, but was composed of well-trained and well-armed First Tier demons. We were able to respond promptly and impede their approach by disrupting their ability to portal through the Vale, but they used phasing and reality-altering magic to rapidly cut the distance. They weren't an assault team: they were an invasion team.
Three of them made it into Valhalla's halls: they moved quickly, and clearly had a particular target in mind. They had no interest in engaging anything else that attempted to get in their way, resulting in few injuries overall: instead, they only plowed through my soldiers or froze them solid or... stopped them in some other nonlethal fashion. Hel appears to be keeping her promise.
Two demons almost reached me, but were taken down by Terra. I asked her to capture, not kill, and admirably, she did so: I know it's very hard for her to resist her instincts, and... it meant a lot to me. Unfortunately, it was pointless: we placed the demons in cells for later interrogation and evaluation, and both of them... killed themselves, as did the other sole survivor of the invasion team. All we learned was that Hel ordered them to try and 'tag' me, and if they failed... they were to die. And of course, that they weren't to use lethal force.
It made me feel more uncomfortable with this sick 'game' Hel is playing, how she's ordered her soldiers to kill themselves when they fail in their objective, like they really are nothing more than playing pieces to be destroyed and replaced after each and every game. Expendables... it bothers me. It bothers me because Hel is a necessary and unfortunate – and powerful – ally: will she one day do the same to us when we no longer make amusing playthings for her? Is life nothing more than a game to her, to be modified the moment she begins to feel bored?
I sigh and shake myself out. Aria and Excelsior were both with me, in the locked down strategy room, while Terra was defending me. Aria also stood ready at my defense, while Excelsior tried to hide behind the table, but to his credit did continue to offer his opinions and take my dictation. Which I suppose means he is getting braver and more open, even if... well, baby steps. Foal steps, I suppose I should say. I'm still not used to all these... pony-terms.
I'm... it's been a long day. Apart from that, I've dealt with the Pious, and fallout from Hel's meeting with Brynhild. The Valkyries and most of their family returned to their own layer yesterday, although I have conceded to allow Antares Mīrus to stay here for a week so Excelsior can work with him and instruct him in etiquette, and I plan to spend more time with him as well. I'm not entirely looking forwards to it, but he learns fast, and if he keeps his mouth shut I suppose it will make for... a less than annoying experience, overall. I've taught much stupider brutes than him to fake table manners, he should be able to learn a few diplomatic gestures.
I'm laying in bed now. I've left the enchantment running tonight in my study, but carefully ensured that the scroll and quill are now housed inside a sealed safe. I've left more than enough scroll paper to run until morning, so I can simply let my thoughts... spill out. I've edited a lot out of the records and confessions and... made other adjustments here and there, but it means that I need to... I need to gather my thoughts and my courage, and...
This is so hard. I get so close, right up to the edge of it, and then I... my mind twists away, as if in pain. Or my thoughts become uneven, and what I ramble out sounds like self-justification and a mire of pity. Pathetic and weak... and worst of all, stupid. I cannot stand being stupid.
I grumble a little and shift, putting a hand behind my head... and beside me, Terra's eyes open and gaze at me kindly. I blush a little and shift awkwardly, reaching up to adjust the tie that... isn't there. I have no clothes on, that's right, apart from... that silly bone bracelet around my wrist.
She smiles at me and leans in, and drops her head on my chest. I grunt, and am honestly surprised this bed, however enormous it is, can actually support the weight of us both. And then I sigh and let my hand awkwardly reach down and rub along her neck, even as I say uncomfortably: “You're not exactly light, Terra.”
“Oh stop it, Kvasir.” Terra laughs and then wiggles herself over towards me, looking much more like a giant dog than a demonic dragon of steel and bone and pride and sin. She flops a little more over my body, and I sigh tiredly and roll my eyes: but being a homunculus with an easily-changed form, while the bed moans in pain from her weight, I only feel a somewhat irritating pressure. Nothing that can't simply be ignored. Nothing that's... not outweighed by the... strangely welcome warmth that comes with such contact with another person.
Especially one I... I care for. That I care for more than I'm comfortable with thinking about.
I don't understand why everything has to be so difficult. Everything should just be contractual agreements, where decisions are final and overseen by a witness and there are civil and possibly criminal consequences for undue termination or failure to meet the contract's goals.
Actually, scratch the witnesses part. The last thing I need to do is announce my personal relationships to the world, and subject myself to the tedium and frustrations that would doubtlessly come with public inquiry. I scowl a little at the ceiling, thinking about all of this, my mind beginning to slip towards anxieties and pessimism and-
Terra's cold nose presses firmly into my neck and makes me twitch. I glower over at her flatly, and she giggles at me a little, looking at me with those bright eyes of hers, completely undeterred. One of her claws reaches up, tickling along my chest as she settles on me a little more. I grumble at her, but it's not like I can do much of anything: she's strong willed and a dragon covered in metal and... clingy. “You're thinking too much. I can tell that you're thinking too much.”
“There's no such thing as thinking too much. I'm just... trying to make sense of the world.” I say finally in response, sighing and looking up at the ceiling, and then I wince when she presses her cold metal nose into my throat again, shoving at her face grumpily. “Stop that.”
“No.” Terra says cheerfully, and I sigh tiredly: I'm irritated with myself for a moment for agreeing that, in bed and off duty and certain other restricted places, Terra does not have to treat me with professionalism. I halfheartedly wish we still had an employee-employer relationship... even if part of me... does enjoy the way she treats me so... so naturally. “Come on, stop thinking so much. Just... just rest. Relax. You promised me you'd try and relax.”
“I am relaxed. This is me relaxing.” I say moodily, and Terra giggles at me again, which just makes me sigh and look at the ceiling as I gesture awkwardly with one hand. “I could be... filing reports and checking in on the Valkyrie training and... attending to any number of minor and major matters across Valhalla that still need to be addressed, but I am not. I am here, with you, as you insisted, relaxing.”
“That's not relaxing, Kvasir. That's you laying here, mentally going over reports and schedules and fixes you want to apply to laws and just working yourself up even more than you would be doing all that normal work anyway. I want you to relax.” Terra says softly, and then she leans up and kisses me before I can argue with her.
Meeting her lips, that softness hidden among the steel, feeling that mouth that could devour me instead almost gingerly luring mine into a dance of teeth and tongues and tenderness... it makes everything else in my mind simply fall into a stupefied lull. I feel... I can't even begin to describe it, really. There's just the sense that... for that moment, only the kiss matters.
We part, and Terra gazes down at me kindly. I look back at her awkwardly, and then I finally nod and mumble: “Perhaps.... perhaps you're right. But... it's difficult.”
“I know, Kvasir. But Valhalla won't fall apart without you to attend to it for a few hours.” Terra soothes, and I sigh and nod reluctantly: I'm still not so sure about that. The demon smiles at me encouragingly, and then she nudges me lightly. “Why don't you talk to me, Kvasir, about what's on your mind? Just talking might help.”
I shift a little. I'm not so sure about this... I still have a lot of secrets from Terra, and I don't like to talk about business with her. It's not that I don't trust her, but more a mix of professionalism and... well... I don't know what to call it. I trust her, I just... don't want her to think I'm nothing but numbers and statistics and laws. I can be... well... I can be fun.
I'm not honestly sure I can be fun.
I mutter a little to myself and shift uneasily back and forth, then finally nod a bit to Terra as my mind shuffles through appropriate topics. Finally, I settle on something... important to me, but also innocuous. “I dislike Hel.”
“Everyone dislikes Hel, Kvas.” Terra says kindly, and I grumble a little and nod before the demon smiles and shifts a little, gazing down at me. “She's not a horrible person, though. Well, I mean, she is, but she's not at the same time.”
I look at her pessimistically, and she smiles wider with amusement before continuing: “I know she's hard to deal with. But honestly, she's not as awful as she seems at first: She and you even have... similarities, you know.”
“Similarities.” I repeat moodily, but Terra only smiles and nods firmly in response, either missing or more likely ignoring the way I'm glaring at her.
“Yeah! I mean, I know you don't see it on the surface at all, but... she and you are both really good at managing things, and multitasking, and you keep all of Valhalla in order and she keeps all of Helheim under control and rule. I mean, I know it seems a lot like she's just causing mischief and mayhem, but... she does more than that.” Terra continues, and I sigh and shift a bit, but nod a little despite myself.
And another part of me is... funnily glad, too. Hel, after all, was Terra's former employer: she's showing decorum and etiquette in her defense of the goddess despite Hel's many failings. Then again, maybe it's just hard for me to grasp the idea Hel might actually be in charge of Helheim for more reasons than just her sheer power.
Terra leans in and nudges me with her muzzle again when she realizes I'm not paying attention to her, and I make a face and push at her absently before the steel-scaled demon says gently: “And I owe Hel much, anyway. Had I never been transferred from helping protect her home, I never would have gotten to spend all these years with you.”
I nod a little and smile despite myself. It's a cute thought, I suppose. A logical fallacy in a few ways, perhaps, but... no, I understand where she's coming from. So I shift a bit and turn my eyes to her, and I finally ask: “Why did Hel send one of her personal guard in the first place?”
The demonic dragon smiles at me warmly: she always brightens so much when I show any sort of interest in her. She studies me, then leans forwards and plants a kiss on my face, which makes me wince and awkwardly draw my head away even as I feel... a little tickled by it. She answers my question, too, which also makes me feel... happy. I don't know why, it's only a simple question, but for some reason, still... “Because Hel does want Valhalla protected, for a whole host of reasons. And because I think she figured that it would be a way for her to pay tribute to you, Kvasir, as the new King of Valhalla. She does have respect for you.”
I look at Terra mildly for a few moments, feeling as if she's just trying to build up my ego now. Because in no way can I fathom precisely how Hel could possibly respect me. “I'm not quite sure we have the same idea of what respect means.”
Terra rolls her eyes in entertainment, then pushes down against me for a moment, making me wheeze. “Honestly, think about it, Kvasir: why would she spend so much time and energy trying to bother you if she didn't respect you? You see what she does to people who she doesn't consider worth her time: a flick of her fingers, they're frozen in ice or paralyzed or something else horrible. If she didn't respect you and your opinion and what you were trying to do here, she wouldn't bother trying to talk to you or anything. She'd just... well, you know.”
I stop and think about this for a few moments, shifting uncomfortably. It's a funny line of thought to try and follow, the idea that... because Hel might respect me somewhere in that cold, dark heart of hers, that's why she mocks and derides me but so rarely uses force on me. And I think about how easily she'd frozen the entire room, myself included, when she wanted to have a word with me about Gymbr alone...
And even then, she gave me advice – if you could call it that – but not any kind of direct order. I was at her mercy... in fact, I realize all the more now that... I'm always at her mercy. There's no real safe place to hide from her, nothing she can't apparently infiltrate or force her way through... but Terra's right. I can never remember any time when I wasn't given a choice.
My eyes wander, then return to Terra's, and she smiles at me. We study each other, and then she lowers her head a little and says softly: “I want you to understand that you're... important in the grand scheme of things, Lord Kvasir, because I don't think you always do. You consider yourself an administrator, and like you're someone who is... easily replaced or traded out. But you're not, not at all. You do much more than keep Valhalla's gears turning.”
I smile after a moment at her, then shift a little... not uncomfortably, but... well, she's touched upon something that feels... childishly-sensitive. And I also feel a little embarrassed by how well she's able to read me: it's a strange sensation, and stranger still is the fact that I don't want to try and... shield myself from her, pull away.
We're quiet. She snuggles into me, I make some vain attempt to hold her close. Well, perhaps not 'vain,' more 'unnecessary:' mammoth as she is, she already covers me completely in her childish attempt to snuggle herself down against my body. Part of me wishes... it was more uncomfortable than it is. It would give me more of an excuse to try and push her away instead of... making me want to hold her closer.
It feels like hours before our bodies pull away from one-another's, and I slip out of bed and head towards where I've neatly hung up my clothes. In moments, however, Terra is already bounding after me, quick to help me into my clothes. I grumble at her, but she only smiles as she coddles me and insists on buttoning up my jacket for me after slipping it onto my body.
She treats me with deference and respect and... such kindness. It's not servility, but... a respect for my formality, my preferences and etiquette. It's part of why and how we're able to get along so well, I think: I do my best to overlook her eccentricities, she does her best to adhere to certain social standards, and we... meet somewhere in the middle.
I'm glad for it, but... I'm also glad that... she and I are different. The way she behaves... while it grinds on my nerves sometimes, I'm also thankful for it. I think I'm instinctively drawn to people who will challenge me, who will... irritate me, even. I think I need people like that in my life in order for me to remember that... everything isn't serious, failure is not the end of the world, and... the best things can come from things you want to have nothing to do with at first.
Terra offers, as she does every day now, to give me a ride to the meeting hall. I'm fairly certain she knows how uncomfortable this offer makes me, and that's a large part of the reason why she insists on making it every single day, noting how she's still technically off duty. I carefully decline, but she only smiles, then follows maybe a little too close after me when we leave my room.
It's not that everyone doesn't know about my relationship with Terra. It's more the... professional boundaries that I'm concerned with, and... maybe... it sounds silly, but I also worry about what this must look like to others. Here I am, in a relationship with one of my own employees, and a demon at that. A demon who used to serve as one of Hel's guard, no less.
I strongly dislike that part of my job requires me to be aware of how my personal decisions and actions are viewed by the populace at large, but I do recognize it all the same. I always strive to address any concerns, while at the same time I'm aware... I cannot simply... do everything they want me to. Make only decisions that are safe, or easily understood, or reflect the opinions of the majority. Sometimes, in order to protect the majority themselves, I must do the opposite of what they desire. After all, every few months I receive a petition demanding that we cease all negotiations and diplomacy with Helheim. Most people do not understand what a tremendously-disastrous move this would make, or the extreme consequences we would face as a result.
It might surprise some people, but in no way am I a patriot. I know that Valhalla is no better and no worse than a thousand other Heavens out there, just as I know that one day this kingdom will inevitably crumble. All that is simply part of the way things are, nothing more or less. It's perhaps a little... depressing, but... that's life, I suppose.
I never want to lose sight of the reason why I protect Valhalla: the people, not the place itself. Protecting the people is my first priority, those in the Vale and those in the Castle, but... my first instinct is usually to protect the Vale. Those in the Castle have dedicated their lives to protecting the lives of Heaven's civilians, and while I try to afford them both luxury and leisure when I can, I also hold them to what they've signed up for.
Terra nudges me with her muzzle; she gets it right into the back of my neck and pushes firmly, making me wince a bit and stumble before I glower over my shoulder at her, but she only smiles at me kindly and says: “You're thinking too much, Lord Kvasir. Again. Don't you ever stop thinking too much? Or are you determined to be the most thinkingest person in the whole of the ninety-nine layers?”
I look up at the dragon for a moment, but I'm saved having to respond when a voice calls to me from down the hall. A glance up, and I see Aria is heading quickly towards us, with Excelsior and several bookkeepers. Accounts and administrative assistants and... I groan. I'd forgotten. Today we have to compile income and tax reports.
I note that mortals loathe taxes and whine incessantly about the methods used to calculate how much they have to pay and how difficult the process is. Which I find bitterly amusing, as they've never tried to deal with things from my side before. You think that filling out a simple income form is difficult? Try fact-checking and then correlating and calculating all of those forms together, and then attempt to find a fair percentile-based sweeping deduction. Currently we're siting at 2.6%: it's enough to provide some wealth to Valhalla for repairs and payments, while not having any major negative impact on the most meager worker's accounts.
No matter how much I do, they whine and whine about tax dollars. Well, without taxes we can't pay for food import or emergency care or those cranky utility workers who maintain the Vale and the cities. And we also can't pay any of you your salaries. I wish they would just recognize how fortunate they all are, just once: this is Heaven. You're dead. You have more important things to concern yourself with than a few dollars that would likely only go towards poisoning yourself with alcohol or candy or something else stupid.
I sigh and shake myself out. This always puts me in a foul mood, so I do my best to raise my head and... just get it over with. I can't entirely hide my crankiness, and Aria smiles at me a little as she picks up on it, which... I don't know. Relieves me? I don't want it to, but... it does. And Terra smiles too, which I also can't help but like.
I almost fall into a dangerous line of thought in comparing them, but I quickly push that away and instead focus on Aria for the moment, asking in a voice that's calmer than I feel: “So have you already sent out the late notice letters?”
“Of course.” Aria looks at me... perhaps a little vengefully. Perhaps enjoying the fact we're doing my least favorite thing, as Terra lingers behind me. “I've attached the nonpayment list and sorted out the exceptions and put them in another list. We attached them to the back of the pile.”
I sigh again and wish moodily I had some kind of magic or machine to help with this, then I rub at my face slowly and nod. “Alright. Thank you, Aria, your diligence is appreciated. Terra, please go and resume your duties training the Valkyries. Excelsior, you're excused from today's accounting work: I need you to go and act as my figurehead for the council today.”
Excelsior winces and shrinks down a bit, and Aria awkwardly volunteers: “I can do it, Lord Kvasir. Or perhaps... Terra would be happy to sit in for you.”
It's an odd suggestion coming from Aria. A little out of character, but... I'm not a complete idiot. I think I understand why she said it. And when I glance back at Terra, she's smiling and looking down at me pointedly, so I finally sigh and nod hesitantly, muttering: “I... I suppose that it can't hurt. Follow the agenda, and relay any major ideas back to me. I'll send Excelsior with you.”
Excelsior looks less than thrilled, but also less than panicked. His terminal shyness simply doesn't mix very well with Terra's... excitability. And Terra, of course, simply looks thrilled. The sheer amount of delight she seems to take in this order admittedly makes me feel more than a little uncomfortable: perhaps even worried for what she might do with her position of power. Not because I think she'd ever do anything threatening or antagonizing, more because... she doesn't always grasp the idea of maintaining certain norms and traditional etiquette, hard as she tries.
I also admittedly worry a little she'll just override Excelsior completely. Not because she would even mean to, but well... I'm sure I don't have to get into how their personalities could conflict. Terra is already bouncing from claw-to-claw, while Excelsior is... I don't really know the precise word for what he's doing. Curling up, I suppose, comes close. “I won't let you down, Lord Kvasir!”
I look up at the dragon with a sigh and a nod, then say carefully: “Just please. Excelsior knows my schedule, knows the agenda, and is aware of all the-”
“We'll work together, definitely, you bet!” Terra says firmly, nodding a few times, and I really don't know what to say in response to this. I'm only able to sigh and shake my head out a little as Excelsior mumbles something quiet and incoherent. I look at him for a moment, then wince a bit when Terra drops a claw on Excelsior's back, making him whimper audibly. “You know me, Excelsior, we're going to get along just fine together.”
This already gives me the distinct feeling it's not going to work out. I sigh and drop my head, shaking myself moodily out before I turn my attention to Aria, who smiles awkwardly and shrugs a little. She gestures to me, and I nod, striding after her and the accountants as I call calmly to Excelsior and Terra: “Start slow and see about the immigration revisions first.”
There's some... sound of happy agreement from behind me that I completely ignore. I focus on Aria instead, and she smiles at me awkwardly as I fall in step with her, while I nod politely back and put my hands behind my back. I rub my wrist, even as I do my best to keep myself calm and serious: I don't want her to see that I feel... guilty, around her. I know it'll just make her feel worse than she already does.
I don't know how to address the issue, though: we're two professionals, I am her employer and she is the employee. There's a certain expected level of professionalism and... well... oh, this is stupid. I can read her body language and see how she feels hurt and anxious, and I feel awkward and uncomfortable around her, and neither of us ever did anything more sentimental than discuss business over a light meal. This is nothing but pointless and manufactured drama,interfering with productivity.
And yet my stomach churns and my hands keep fidgeting behind my back and I feel like an idiot. I shift a little, and then impulsively glance over at Aria and ask before I'm even aware the words are coming out: “Do you want to be transferred to the new Valkyries?”
Aria looks up at me with surprise, her eyes widening, and I clear my throat before looking quickly ahead and saying in a slightly-more-steady voice: “I know it's what your original desire was, Aria. I don't want to... to hold you back. You are an exceptional assistant to me and a... an important friend... but if it would be preferable, I can have you transferred to the Valkyrie unit. You'll have to be tested, of course, but... it was the original position I was going to offer you and I know you've been keeping up your strength.”
The Pegasus looks at me for a few moments, then she smiles a little and looks straight ahead, saying quietly: “With all due respect, sir, I think you still need my help here more.”
I look down thoughtfully for a few moments, then nod a little. I don't know if I'm agreeing with her, or... something else. It's... a strange kind of feeling. A gesture of supplication, and... everything gets all twisted up inside me and I can't sort it out, but I don't at all mind, and... I can't stop myself from hesitantly, almost-shyly glancing over at her.
She smiles back at me, a faint blush in her cheeks, and then she raises her head and says suddenly: “I'm glad you have Terra looking out for you, Lord Kvasir. And that you seem to... to get along so well.”
“I... I would rather not discuss that during work.” I say delicately, and Aria glances over at me before she sidles a little closer, and I look down at her with confusion.
“What about after work?” she suggests, and I shift and fidget a little before the Pegasus smiles up at me and gives me a look that... disarms me, simply put. “Please.”
I can't say no. There's no way that I can just say no. So I sigh quietly instead and nod grudgingly, and she smiles warmer and wider up at me, nodding firmly. She seems... overjoyed. And I'm... I'm happy she's happy. It's a little... different than with Terra, too, which just makes this strange feeling all the more intense, which... gives it this extra whisper of allure...
I don't really... spend a lot of time focusing on the account books or the endless reams of fiscal reports or the income forms. I spend too much time... looking at Aria. I should have known better and I should have done better. And tempting as it is to continue editing here and just cut out what happened, more... proof of my failings and my weaknesses, I'm trying to keep my promise to keep these edits to a minimum and... I'm leaving this next part in.
Aria and I leave together after roughly eight hours of work. There are many, many more reports and papers to be dealt with, but for now we've made a good start, and the accountants can continue to work before they change shifts. All the reports should be filed within a week, and the improperly-completed or fraudulent forms will then be ready for reassessment, and we'll be able to start sending out collection letters and small reimbursements.
We walk side-by-side through the halls, quiet and... a little awkward, perhaps. It's not often that I spend time with anyone outside of work, after all, apart from... Terra. Thinking about her, probably still stuck in business meetings with Excelsior and the council, while I'm out meandering with Aria... it's a little bit awkward. It makes me feel like I'm... crossing some social more or something.
I shift and adjust my tie a little, and eventually we step out into one of the gardens. Aria easily jumps up into the air and flies over to a bench to drop down on it, smiling over at me and patting the seat beside her, and I grimace even as I walk over and sit carefully down, dropping my hands on my knees and looking at her uncomfortably. We're about the same size, but... thanks to our different body structures, she seems shorter than me.
She smiles a little over at me, and I glance around: there are all kinds of flowers and vines and... pretty things. I don't really know much about plants, and personally I think these gardens are somewhat of a waste: if we have such arable soil here in easy access, why not grow herbs and food and plants with medical uses instead of these... pretty flowers?
“It's nice here. Quiet.” Aria says, and I glance over at her and shift a bit before she smiles at me and continues: “There's so few places like this in Valhalla now. Places where we can come to just.. sit and think and... be with each other instead of... for some specific reason or purpose. I'm glad everything has a purpose, don't get me wrong, I just... think it's important to have places that don't have purpose, too.”
It's like she reached into my mind and countered my argument before I could even completely form the idea. I shift awkwardly and brush my mane back, giving a lame smile before I shake myself out and mumble: “I suppose that I never really thought of it that way before.”
Aria only smiles at me again, and I shift a little in the silence that follows before Aria glances up and asks, with a... a strange bravery that I admire her all the more for: “How are you and Terra doing? It's been... a few weeks now, right?”
I'm not sure how long it's been, honestly. For me, the days often blur together, and time is just an imprecise measurement. I'm more concerned with the hours than the days, and my schedules don't depend on staying assiduously aware of time, but on ensuring everything is completed as quickly as possible, before time runs out.
So I'm only able to shrug a little, and Aria... she brightens strangely at this. She seems to slip a little closer, and I frown a bit at her and shift uncomfortably as she leans up and asks quickly: “So is it strange at all for you? I mean... you two clearly...”
“I... I don't exactly want to talk about it, Aria. Nor am I entirely sure what's polite to discuss with you, since so much of it regards... Terra. It's not... it doesn't strike me as...” I don't really know where I'm going with this line of argument, because all I can fall back on are business rules and cultural laws, and I somehow feel neither of these would exactly be proper to apply to a romantic relationship.
But Aria smiles a little once more and nods, and there's quiet between us. She's... blushing a little, and her eyes keep flicking up towards me, almost shyly. I look back at her now and then, and... I really don't know... what to say or do. For some reason all of this feels a little... a little... I don't know.
I feel her hoof on my shoulder, and I glance towards her curiously. I meet her eyes, and we look at each other for a few moments... and then, before I even fully comprehend what's going on, she leans up and she kisses me.
I don't know what to do. It's all so much to take in and... when I grasp at her, my hands don't push her away, they pull her closer. The kiss lasts forever, and forever is too short: when our mouths part for a moment, it's only to gasp for breath before I move forwards and she meets me eagerly, inviting me on, pulling me over her.
I've cut this part of the story out because I do not think the details are necessary. Besides, you can clearly infer what happened from that point on. And I'm shaking a little now as I write this, not... not knowing why it feels important to include. Maybe just because it... it further testifies to the fact that I am weak, and prone to giving in to temptation and... because I do want this to be a confession of all the stupid things that I've done.
The worst part? It was good. It was... fun. And the thrill of being here with her, in this public area, having just done... what we did on impulse. That sense of... misplaced adventure. It makes me shiver a little because I know it's bad and yet I still want more. And Aria... how she pressed into me, clung to me, whispered sweet words to me and told me that it was all going to be okay... I... I believe her even now. Even though I know, no, things aren't okay.
And of course I'm a little afraid, too, of what's going to happen once Terra finds out... because I know, inevitably, that Terra will find out. Even if I can hide from her emotional reading for a few days, there's no way she won't eventually pick up on the changes in behavior between myself and Aria...
And yet I want this continue. I know it's a horrible, stupid idea, but... well... Terra herself said she's only a mistress, right? No true suitor. So... am I really doing anything wrong? Am I really betraying Terra by... I sound so weak and tinny even in my own ears. And I know my heart wouldn't beat like this, my thoughts wouldn't race, and I wouldn't be afraid every moment of an angry dragon crashing through the door if... I wasn't doing something wrong.
I don't really know what to say. I can't defend my actions. I don't know what I was thinking, or what Aria was thinking. I only remember that when we pulled away from each other, and I straightened out my suit and she brushed herself off, she looked at me and I looked at her and she asked me meekly if I would meet her tomorrow and I... I said yes. And I will meet her tomorrow, and I want to meet with her tomorrow.
I'm trying not to think about the consequences, even though I know that's stupid. But the pleasure is so good, and it feels like... like an adventure, in so many ways. Terra makes me feel happy, but she... I don't think it's even that she truly annoys me. But there's an envy of her mixed into all my other feelings for her, and the fact that she is so... so free, and strong. I often feel like I'm neither of those things.
Aria, on the other hand... looks up to me. Thinks so much of me... so much more than I deserve. And she's small and when I hold her, she curls up against me and it feels so... right, in so many ways. And so good. And everything seems to make a little bit more sense.
I care about them both. Which makes this all the more twisted and painful, because much more frustrating than that, neither can also legally be identified as an actual suitor or partner. Terra herself identifies herself and acknowledges her role as my mistress, but... what does that make Aria? My secret lover, mistress number two, something... something even odder than that? I don't know. I can't phrase it or make sense of it. It's just something that... that is .
So I'm sitting here, writing down my thoughts with this quill now, trying to make sense of everything that doesn't make sense. And do you know what bothers me most of all? It's not the fact that I'm... cheating on my mistress and risking the wrath of a dragon and pride demon. It's not the fact that I don't know what Aria wants, if this was some impulse or she's... trying to compete with Terra for my affection and my... feelings. It's the fact that neither of these friends, these... people important to me... no one knows about Gymbr.
That leads into the sickening realization that Hel is the only person in my life who knows my secrets, who... I've actually been able to speak to about my problems, and seek the aid of for... the difficulties I've gotten myself involved in. I would do anything to make that not true... no, that's a lie. It just took writing it down for me to understand that it's a lie, because, really, what do I have to do to share my problems with Aria or Terra? Gymbr has always told me, specifically, that Brynhild and Scrivener Blooms cannot know of his existence. That he wants to avoid being known of by that certain selection of people from Looking Glass World but... he's even recommended finding others to... pass information through, use as... help...
I could just tell Terra or Aria. Both of them would be great help in... managing Gymbr, especially with the creature's... madness. But I'm worried about putting them in danger... either of them, even if I suppose I haven't done a very good job of protecting either of them, really. Even if I reflect upon the current situation I'm in and understand that... well... I'm being selfish, and stupid, and maybe by trying to... I don't want to... 'control' them, I just don't want... what we've been sharing to end. I want to be happy. Both of them make me happy.
And it's... well, in a strange way, it's like an adventure. That thrill, that... what Aria and I did, how we could have been caught at any moment, and... well... the thought of it even now makes me... fidget. I think I understand more now why Odin was always known to be such an... 'adventurer.' Then again, many of the Aesir and Vanir were known for... adventurousness.
Maybe I was destined from the beginning to be a philanderer. I'm an even greater joke than I thought: deity of cheating on your illegitimate mistress.
I need to focus on something else. This is petty drama and it's not helpful. But writing down my thoughts has been... soothing, in a strange sort of way. Of course I'm terrified all the more that if these papers are found and nothing has happened to me, instead of writing down a confession of sins and notes that might give the reader some answers as to my fate and... anything else... I'm instead just authoring my own treasure of blackmail.
It's going to be important to protect this. Which means I need to find ways to protect it from Hel as well as Gymbr: Gymbr, at least, seems to have trouble with the wards that protect my study. Hel, on the other hand, seems unstoppable and all-knowing, and... I realize that trying to hide any of this from her, as I write it, is a ridiculous idea. She knew about Gymbr, after all, and my deal with him: that was a much better-kept secret than my relationship with Terra, or what I've done with Aria.
So I should prioritize. Ensure that this is protected, first and foremost, from Gymbr, and worry about Hel when I am forced to. She seems to enjoy making me suffer, but even malicious as she is, I don't believe she'd do anything to destabilize Valhalla... although maybe to her, revealing my faults and reveling in my humiliation would be worth whatever problems it causes me.
And maybe I'm just... strangely-hopeful that the cost of revealing my... 'extracurricular activities' would be so high that it would threaten my rule. Because if Hel really does have even a modicum of respect for me or doesn't want to see Valhalla topple, then like Gymbr, it would become a private taunt, and not something to blackmail me with. While unfortunately I have the feeling that instead it's something she'll happily use to verbally tar and feather me.
I'm not at all looking forwards to what's going to happen next. I know that it can only be one of a few possibilities, none of which are pleasant, all of which... very badly reflect upon me. I may be the author of my own destiny, but that does not necessarily make me a good or even competent writer.
When I glance back at what I've just written, I shudder. Did I honestly just make that pun? What is wrong with me, why am I getting more and more drawn into attempting to be some... grand narrator, make this more of a story instead of embracing this for what it is... just a confession. A series of notes, pages describing... my failure.
But at some point, I realize, I started to want to make this... more than that. I want to be understood: not pitied, perhaps not even sympathized with, but... understood. At some point that became as important as confessing my sins, and while perhaps it's part of why... I've been so hesitant to confess in full what I am responsible for... at the same time, I think it's led me towards trying to make things accessible, for a lack of a better word.
And it's helped me continue this, and find reasons to go through the trouble of... learning to better work the enchantments, and further refine my own thoughts and focus, and... simply improve on things. I want to do a good job with this, not just leave behind a list of failures and accomplishments. I want you to know my story.
I wonder if that's... for better or worse, though. My editing, my modifying, my... sordid attempts to turn this into some kind of... narrative instead of simply a list or confession. I want to be understood, and remembered, and... show why I failed. I'd like to pretend it's to teach a lesson or so that others won't make the same mistakes I have, but I know the real reason is simpler and more selfish: I don't want to be remembered as a failure or a fool.
There is something I should probably address, that has some bearing on this whole situation. Something I haven't really discussed yet, that has to do with Gymbr, that might make it clearer why... I continue to hold myself accountable.
As I've mentioned briefly before, Gymbr requires my blood. It keeps him stable, and keeps him strong. And without my blood, Gymbr weakens. That's part of what drives him into such a... a frenzy, I think. He cannot stand the idea of being lesser, of being weak.
If, childishly, I ran to Looking Glass World... Gymbr likely wouldn't risk following, and he would no longer have access to my blood. Yes, there are ten thousand excuses, such as what Gymbr might do if he loses control... but ultimately, it would result in his demise, one way or another. And that I'm fairly certain, outweighs almost every cost.
Besides, I can protect Valhalla and my... those I am close to... from Gymbr with ease. It's simply a matter of arranging for Terra, Excelsior, and Aria to leave as part of a diplomatic team, and then ordering a lockdown drill to avoid panic. During the drill, there is no state of alert but Valhalla does go into full shutdown mode: an extended drill might raise some eyebrows, but will also avoid full panic, and with luck will trap Gymbr in the sublevels.
But to do all this... to make such a cunning plan work... it would require a bravery I do not have, especially because... I still feel that Gymbr knows me better than I know myself. That somehow, I'm being pulled along into doing exactly what it wants; inside of me, something twists and whimpers that maybe Gymbr wants me to lock down Valhalla, so it can use its ability to phase from place-to-place and exterminate any threats to it room-by-room, or gather victims for its grisly... experiments.
I know that's likely just more cowardice, though. I know that there's more options, too, and I know that, ultimately, Gymbr needs me much more than I need him. He needs me to protect the dungeons he roams in, he needs me to keep his secrets, he needs my blood and perhaps... something else. And he needs me to act as a contact point between himself and Hel.
Which, I realize, also strikes me as strange: if nothing is beyond Hel's power or reach, why didn't she contact Gymbr herself? And why haven't I seen Gymbr in... many days now? Why do they both warn me against each other but at the same time... acknowledge each other as necessary allies?
I have so many questions, and... writing these thoughts down might not help me get any answers, but it does at least help me get my thoughts in order. I'm sure this must all seem like a jumble to whoever is reading this but... please. Bear with me. I have a feeling that one way or another, things will be moving faster soon and I'll be getting the answers to my questions.
Because one way or the other, I know that I'm going to have to make my own move. I'm going to have to bow to Gymbr's will completely, or betray him.
Betray him... why did I choose that choice of words? Is it because Gymbr has gotten so deep into my head or... would it really be betrayal? Am I being naïve and stupid or do I really think... is it possible that Gymbr's motives really are to help me?
I don't want to think about this anymore. I'm ending this entry here. I need some time to try and get my thoughts in order, and just... try and figure out what I should do next. Gymbr and Hel and... everything else... it's all becoming a little much for me to handle on top of this drama I suppose I'm responsible for letting continue myself.
I wish there was an answer. It doesn't even have to be an easy one, just... clear. I need clarity, that's what I need. I need a direction to go in, something I can focus on, schedule, an item on an agenda I can prioritize and direct my efforts towards.
I'd do anything just to have an answer.
Entry Seven
Over the last few days, I've been reflecting on myself. I have Terra, on the one hand, and on the other I'm sneaking around with Aria to meetings that don't exist and 'business dinners' that are thin covers for... romantic dinners. The thrill and the fun of it... they're both incredible. I feel... exhilarated, and like it's some kind of adventure, and silly.
But late at night, when I'm laying with Terra... I feel terrible, and guilty, and I know that even if I'm keeping this secret for now... the pain she'll feel when we're finally caught... I'll deserve anything she does to me. Yet I don't want to stop, because... this 'game' with Aria makes me forget about all the serious things in life, coats all the pain and the problems of Gymbr and Hel and everything else under this... this sizzling sensation, this escape .
So I'm not just a cowardly paper-pusher, I'm a cowardly paper-pusher who's cheating on his mistress with his aide. Aria and I... well, we never talk much about it, but there is a certain sense that she wants things to be more, maybe wants me to leave Terra, but... I can't do that. I... care about them both and... I have... well. I'm scared.
That's what a lot of my life comes down to, really. Being scared of this or that, and using that as a reason to not do things. And I'm very well aware how badly that reflects on me, thank you. But it's not as if I didn't already feel like a hypocrite every day of my life anyway, trying to create peace in the home of the warrior gods.
I'm thankful these last few days have been quiet: the only major event was Gymbr's return from... wherever he had been. He was... animal, growling at me when he dragged himself in, but... he was also exhausted, and couldn't even bring himself to attack me. Something had drained his energy, and even the corruption leaking out of his body seemed... paler.
I could have... stopped him then. I could have let him die: even when he grabbed me, he was too weak to pull me down, or dig his claws through the fabric of my suit. And even if I'm no warrior, no master of combat, I am powerful enough to defend myself and my powers share many similarities to that of the Blood Seers. The very same blood that Gymbr craves to keep himself stable... I could have turned it from an elixir of strength and inspiration into a poison.
And yet I didn't. For some reason, something told me... not to. The logical choice would have been to poison him, subdue him, kill him, and nearly every instinct in my body howled for it... said it would be logical, it would be revenge, it would simply be a way to prove that I am capable of defending Valhalla...
Instead, I sat there, a tube hooked between us, my blood flowing through it and into the god-thing Gymbr. I look at him silently, thinking of how easy it would be to kill him even after half an hour of transfusion, while Gymbr sits quietly, barely moving, barely... alive. I could probably even do it with my bare hands, not my powers right now: he looks so weak, so broken.
It's not honor, even though that part of me that flows with such honorable blood knows that to fall back on poisoning a sick and weak creature pleading for my help... would be cowardly. Especially when there's the option of simply saying 'no.' And it's not the thought that... Gymbr has promised to act as a servant of Valhalla in the future, or that I even believe that. It's... it's that need to believe in him again, for reasons I don't entirely understand.
He wouldn't speak to me, though. I spent three hours transfusing blood into him, while we sat together in the darkness of his unsettling dungeon-lab. He wouldn't respond to my questions, to... anything I said, and I wasn't willing to pull away. Instead, I studied him, the... ooze, bleeding out of him, the stink of decay that he breathes. He's gotten worse, and... maybe part of this is pity. Because if whatever plan he has in mind doesn't work fast enough, if Hel fails to deliver the soulstone soon... then Gymbr will die. This... this mightiest of gods will simply curl up and die, of an unknown disease, of maybe just... a lack of will to fight any longer.
Eventually Gymbr just... walked away. I left the dungeon shortly after myself, not wanting to test my luck any further, hating that... I think I understand more why he was lashing out in such anger, why he was trying to intimidate me, use such force. Because he was afraid: afraid of exactly what's playing out now, where this thought-omnipotent entity is now too weak to... to do anything but beg for my help, and to slink around in the shadows.
But something must have happened while he was gone. I don't dare imagine what it must have been, though, to have made this creature so... so weak. So broken and miserable...
Aria touches my arm, and I realize how long I must have been thinking for, how long I've been lost in thought. I look up at her with a small smile: we're sitting beside each other, just us, starting the long process of compiling the list of everyone who's failed to pay on time, or submitted forms incorrectly. Some of the corrections will be automatically made, others look like weak attempts to evade taxes, a few seem like honest errors. Boring work, made... made much easier by the presence of my... I don't know what she is. My Aria.
My Aria... I look at her quietly, and she gazes back at me before leaning up and stealing a kiss. She likes to do that, and it always surprises me. Always makes me smile, despite everything that's going on, and she looks at me with warmth before saying gently: “Come on, let's get this done. Then we can go have some... private time. Terra's busy, right?”
That feels like a punch to the gut, and yet at the same time there's a... a thrill. A certain thrill, hard to describe, a tingle that still bites through that horrible feeling in my stomach. But when I answer, it's in a calm, steady voice, not affected either way by the conflict boiling inside me: “She's training the Valkyries, yes, and then she has some one-on-one mentorship with Prestige Luster and Antares Mīrus.”
“Lucky kids.” Aria says softly: she's more relaxed with me these days, more open and verbal and... and I like that. I study her for a moment, and then she blushes and glances up at me before asking impulsively: “Lord Kvasir, what... what am I to you?”
I honestly have no clue how to answer this question, and I'm far from prepared for it. So instead I end up sitting there dumbly for a few minutes before I clear my throat. But I'm saved from answering by an alarm bell going off, which I'm more thankful for than I should be.
But soon, surprise and unreasonable gratitude turn to a cold pit of fear when I hear an amplified voice broadcast through Valhalla: “Level One! Level One!”
“Oh no.” I whisper: Code Level One during an alarm indicates that a force we are not equipped to deal with has broken through Valhalla's gates, and triggers a complete lockdown of the castle. Aria is already in the air, and I'm on my hooves, running for the door: we need to get to the war room and find out what's going on before everything seals closed.
Except no sooner do I throw open the door than I see Hel waiting for us in the hallway... or rather, her grinning ice puppet. It stands with its hands on its hips, looking down at me cheerfully as she says brightly: “Remember that argument we had earlier, honeybutt? Well, I'm about to win it.”
I snarl at her, and Aria leaps in front of me, dropping to a ready position. She's fearless. And all I can do is stand behind her and tremble and ask stupid questions, as if I can somehow come up with a plan that will save us despite it clearly being far too late to do anything about Hel's attack. “What did you do, use your personal guard?”
“Yes! I mean, no. Well. Yes and no.” Hel twiddles her fingers, and I grimace as she grins wider: her eyes are gleaming, her teeth are bared, and the frost wafts around her... eagerly. She looks like a beast, ready and hungry for the kill, bovine features somehow primal and predatory. “Most of them are just some well-trained, well-outfitted Third Tier demons, I'll have you know. But for moral support, I decided to send along Theodore to give you a good talking to. Teddy gets bored staying at home with me all day, after all, it's good for him to have some exercise.”
I stare up at her, and then curse and begin to turn... and Hel grins wider as she flicks a hand down the hallway. Ice spreads over doors and icicles form into hungry teeth that snap shut through the corridor, baring their own frozen grins at me as if just daring me to approach. “Sorry, honeybutt. That way lies madness and all that. You better start running in the opposite direction.”
“Why don't you play fair for once in your miserable life?” Aria snaps, then she steps forwards, glaring up at Hel. “I'm not afraid of you! And Lord Kvasir would be more than a match for you if-”
“If what, if things were fair? Sweetie... life isn't fair.” And with that, Hel reaches down and taps Aria's nose, and a moment later I stumble backwards in shock as the Pegasus is left frozen in a block of ice, completely unable to move. I start to reach forwards, but Hel only quickly punts the cube of frost down the hall towards those frozen teeth.
They open like hungry jaws and swallow frozen Aria whole, and I curse under my breath as I turn a glare to Hel, but she only winks and holds up her wrist, tapping it firmly with a free finger. “You got three minutes, Kvasir. You can waste it telling me what a mean bitch I am, or you can hustle your butt out of here and hope that Teddy doesn't catch up to you right away. Here's a secret: he's got about twenty minutes before he's going to return to Helheim. You can last that long without him catching you in this delightful game of tag, right?”
Hel throws her head back and laughs gleefully, hugging herself, and I curse under my breath before turning and running down the hallway in the only direction I can go. She's herding me: I know she's herding me, but I'm helpless to do anything, and... Mimir's head, did Hel time it on purpose so that I would have the stupid enchanted quill going so she could YESIDID better enjoy humiliating me?
I groan: maybe I can turn it to my advantage, maybe not. I can at least study what I do wrong when I'm eventually caught and defeated... no, I can't think like that!
But my body already hurts and... Third Tier demons? Is she trying to humiliate me? It sounds like she's outfitted and trained them specially to compensate for their usually weaker natures... but then again, if Teddy is here, the demons might just be a distraction while Teddy plows right through all of Valhalla...
I curse and grab at my chest, looking back and forth as I turn down a side hall: yet the doors here are all frozen shut, too, visibly coated with frost and... Hel knows exactly what she's doing. There's nowhere to hide and I can hear people trapped on the other side of the locked doors, but there's no time to stop and try and free them... and what would that do, anyway? Put them in Teddy's way? No, no one can stop Theodore. I doubt any of them can even slow her personal bodyguard down.
I make it through the short hallway and stumble through an ajar door, into a feast hall. There are civilians hiding and a few soldiers standing at the ready, holding position. They look up as I run through the hall, and I grit my teeth: it hurts to order this, but I force myself to say: “Do not engage Hel's demons when they come through here... keep yourselves out of their way and don't fight back unless they attack you first!”
The Knights of Valhalla look startled and... even disappointed. But there's nothing they can do. I know this game has to be played by the rules that Hel just laid out, or else someone is going to get hurt: likely someone who doesn't deserve it, who has nothing to do with this entire mess. I can't let that happen, even if it means I'll be at risk myself.
The doors at the end of the hall are open, and I shove them wide... before looking over my shoulder at the sound of a roar, followed by a tremendous crash. My eyes widen in shock as demons flood inside, charging across the wide feast hall straight for me.
I turn and bolt, even as I reach quickly into my vest and yank out a sharp letter opener. It's no ritual knife, but it will still serve its purpose well enough as I shove my arm against the sharp edge and pull, wincing at that horrible feeling of flesh separating from flesh in a burst of red liquid.
Without slowing, I flick my arm back and forth, leaving splatters of blood over the walls and floor before I glance over my shoulder and shout: “Distort!”
The demons are just entering the hall as the blood is greedily sucked into the surfaces... a moment before the corridor surrounding us seems to groan loudly, then suddenly grows longer, surfaces bulging and twisting obscenely, turning it from a short hall into a funhouse corridor of wild twists and turns and madness. The demons look dumbfounded as they simply stand at the other end of the lengthened hallway, and I smile grimly before turning around and heading to the end of the hall.
I can hear the demons trying to follow, but flopping all over the surfaces and each other as they attempt to stumble their way towards me. I'm not about to stand here and let them catch up, grabbing the doorhandle, and not in the least bit concerned when I find it's locked. Instead, I glance down at the smears of blood left from my dark fingertips, and order quietly: “Open.”
The blood sinks into the handle, which shudders... and then the door swings itself wide, and I hurry inside and slam it closed behind me. It locks itself again automatically as I step forwards into an open courtyard. I look up at the edge of the roof, thinking I can climb the walls, maybe find some kind of safety or escape... but then my eyes drop, take in the rest of my surroundings, and another idea comes to me when my eyes lock on the pond in one corner of the courtyard.
I run over to this and flick my arm a few times, keeping the blood flowing through the slowly-healing wound. I drop down beside the liquid, gritting my teeth as I thrust my bleeding limb into the water, and thick veils of red begin to slowly spread through the liquid as I start to recite a prayer as calmly and quickly as I can.
There's a banging on the door, and then it's smashed apart in a blast like thunder, and I wince as I look sharply up, seeing three demons run through. They're all armored and armed and grinning and excited, their emotions wafting off them like a reek, and I grit my teeth as they drop their guard, probably thinking they have some easy victory at hand.
I am very eager to show them how wrong they are.
I'm no warrior, no master magician, but that doesn't mean all I can do is whimper and cower in fear. While I might not have the strength to generate any massive magical effects myself, when there's elements in the environment, waiting and ready to be commanded...
I shove myself to my feet as I yank the arm buried through the pond's surface upwards... and like a blanketing, living serpent, the water explodes out of the pond, twisting forwards and splashing violently down over the demons hurrying towards me. The force of the wave smashes them backwards before all three of the lower tier demons fall over, steaming and spasming and screaming in agony: the problem for them isn't simply the bloody water, but rather the holy charge I've channeled into said blood and water. To them, it probably feels like they've just been doused in acid.
I flex my soaking wet arm, breathing hard as water and blood drip from it. I begin to look up, knowing these demons aren't going to be able to get up any time soon, thinking I can make my escape to the roof... and then I feel that... that malevolence a moment before Teddy smashes through the too-small doorway and into the courtyard, Hel cackling and riding on his back.
Theodore glares at me: I can feel his eyes on me, even if a visor hides most of his face from view. He's covered in heavy armor, and those plates are sealed and welded to his hide, all-but-impenetrable and further adding to the devastating strength of the... the monster. He's no demon, and he's no god. He's a toy, and a servant, and a monster.
Hel claps wildly above his bulbous, oval-shaped head, then she points at me as he leans forwards on gorilla-like limbs, the goddess shouting: “Catch him, Teddy!”
Theodore roars and leaps at me, and I turn to run for the doorway. I hear the giant smash down behind me, then lunge at my back, and I barely throw myself to the side in time. Fingers like concrete pipes lash past as Teddy stumbles with his own weight, but before I can scramble away, he turns and slaps me with his arm: the momentum alone powering that heavy, tree-trunk limb is enough to send me flying through the air to crash down in the middle of the courtyard on my back, and I curse-
Teddy's hand slams down on my chest, crushing my ribs, pinning me back. His fingers close like a metal trap around my body, and I howl in agony as I'm held in place, my bones feeling like fragile, breaking twigs. I twist back and forth helplessly, and Teddy just bears down as Hel only laughs on his back, before she shifts to sit on one of his huge shoulders and primly crosses her legs, saying cheerfully: “Now stop that, Teddy, be nice to Mr. Seriouscorn. We've done what we've set out to do now, there's no need to really lay on the pain.”
She grins down at me, and I gasp for breath as I look up at her, then grit my teeth. I shudder weakly, unable to move, unable to do more than twitch a little against the ground. I try to find some kind of defiance... and all I summon up is fear, as I whisper: “Let... let me go...”
Hel chides me with a click of her tongue and a waggle of one finger, then she hops easily off Teddy and strides over to me. She steps on the back of Teddy's hand, leaning down and saying pleasantly: “I didn't really hear you all the way from up on top Mount Theodore. That's kind of a double pun if you think about it, by the way, 'cause... you know. He's not just built like a mountain, I was also riding him around like a horsey. Not like you ride horsies though, Kvasir, that's gross.”
She giggles behind her hands like an immature child. I hate her, but I'm more scared of her than anything else right now, and it steals my desire to do anything but whimper a bit as I shift uneasily and breathe hard in and out, glowering up at her. And Hel's just... cheerful, grinning, delighted. Hel knows she's beaten me, and she's savoring that victory... that pathetic, pointless victory, since it's not like I can lie and say I ever stood any real chance against her.
The goddess clucks at me, leaning down and shoving a finger against my nose as she looks disapproving. “Now stop that, Kvasir. I read emotions just like my little boys and girls do, you know, and I'm not impressed. Not impressed at all: I always figured you were the type who would lose with a little grace and dignity, not get all pouty and whiny about it!
“Okay, Teddy, let him up. And go home, you're all dirty and I need tea.” Hel straightens, absently brushing at the armored goliath as Theodore rumbles and straightens. When his hand lifts from my chest, I'm not only able to breathe, but my entire body loosens up, and I feel... strange.
I shift and sit slowly up as Teddy turns and lumbers away... and then I grit my teeth when the giant simply walks through the wall like it's made of paper, smashing it down without a moment's hesitation. I turn my eyes to Hel, feeling... not braver, but perhaps dumber and angrier, and she pastes an innocent look on her features as she shrugs and says reasonably: “It's not my fault that he doesn't have a brain, you know. I tried very hard to conserve that.”
I grimace and pick myself up, brushing at my body before Hel absently snaps her fingers... and I don't want to look over my shoulder at the sound I hear. The crackle of ice, the ripping of flesh, the... rending of bodies. Yet all the same I do, and I regret it immediately, and the sight of demons that have been... crushed, for lack of a better term... by blunt blades of ice. What Hel did to them... I'd rather not focus on it.
My eyes turn back to Hel, and she smiles at me politely, saying kindly: “I was just doing you a favor, sweetiebuns. You didn't want to get that blood on your hands yourself, after all, right? And besides, I have to protect my own interests, keep up appearances... I told 'em all it was a do-or-die mission, and since they didn't 'do,' they had to 'die .'”
There's no point in dignifying that with an answer. Instead, I brush myself off and mutter: “So you won your stupid little gamble. What were the terms of the engagement again?”
Hel only laughs at this, however, shaking her head and smiling at me almost patronizingly. Worse, almost pityingly... I hate pity. Especially from her. “Now don't be like that, Kvasir! So you got a little roughed-up, so I hurt your pretty-titty, so Valhalla needs to hire a repairman or two.” She glances absently at the hole in the wall, rubbing thoughtfully at her chin. “Although, you know. You might want to go and sue your old contractor. That's some pretty shoddy work right there, look at that masonry. It looks like poo.”
My fingers rub slowly at my temples as I breathe slowly in and out, and then Hel glances up and winks at me. “This exercise was all for your benefit, Kvasir. I beat you with one bad boy and a bunch of Third Tier demons. Heck, my previous assault almost beat you, and you know yourself that it was mostly luck that they got keelhauled before they reached your taut rump, honeybutt.”
Hel pauses, then leans forwards, opening her mouth, but she only coos in delight instead of speaking when Terra leaps out of the hall and steps protectively in front of me, the demonic dragon snarling and shivering slightly as her scales stand up like metal barbs, her eyes blazing. “Stay away from Lord Kvasir!”
“Wow, she really does like you. Why are you cheating on her with Aria again?” Hel asks pointedly. This makes my brain grind to a complete halt as I stare blankly at the goddess, while Terra's eyes widen, but both of us remain... frozen, paralyzed... stupid , until Hel finally raises a hand and adds brightly: “Oh, is Aria like diet soda and Terra's a milkshake?”
Terra leans forwards, eyes glowing as she roars furiously and breathes out an inferno of hellish blue fire, and Hel yells wildly as her ice puppet is rapidly melted down until she's only a few chunks of ice sticking out of a bubbling puddle. The demonic dragon breathes hard in and out, then she clenches her jaw before straightening and shaking herself roughly.
She looks over her shoulder at me, glowering, and I look uncomfortably back at her before Terra turns around, leans slowly forwards, and just... looks at me. I've never seen anger directed at me before from those big blue eyes of hers, and it makes me... it makes me feel small, and even more ashamed of myself than I already am.
I open my mouth to try and say something, likely something in my defense... and then Terra's jaw clamp over my head, and I'm left staring down a dragon's gullet. For a moment, there's the absolute terror that comes with having your head locked inside the mouth of any enormous creature that could likely swallow you whole, doubled by the fact this is a dragon, trebled by the fact this is a demonic dragon. But after a few moments, I realize she's not applying any further pressure.
We stay like that for a little while... and then finally, as her hot, strangely-sweet breath floods around my features and makes me a little lightheaded in combination with the heat and the... everything else that's happened, Terra mumbles: “Don't talk right now, Kvasir. I'm saying that as your mistress, but also advising you to stay quiet as your employee. Because I'm concerned for your safety.”
And even now, Terra strives to couch things in terms that... I better understand, that I find... strangely endearing. That somehow makes me feel even more ashamed of myself, as I simply nod as best I can with my head still locked inside her jaws. She holds onto me for a moment longer, then I feel the pressure loosen, and I'm able to draw myself quickly back as she leans away.
We look at each other: our eyes meet, me feeling... ashamed and uncomfortable and like that thing in my gut that was twisting around... like it's broken open like some kind of poisonous egg and spilled acid all throughout my insides. My mouth is dry, and I don't know what to say or do... some part of me is even glad for Terra's directness. Giving me an order, giving me focus.
Terra looks... there's a lot of emotions in her eyes, and most of all, she's just... hurt. There's also some strange sense of shame in her eyes, something that's directed not at me, but at herself, and I can't understand why she'd feel that. After all, this is all my fault...
That poison inside me twitches and twists and just... hurts me. Hurts me, in a way that I know that... yes, I deserve to be hurt. I deserve this and more, but Terra doesn't, and I want to... to tell her that. But I think of what she's already said to me and I think that... the best way I can help her right now is to respect her and acknowledge her and... later, we can get things in order. Or at least I hope we can.
The dragon straightens, nods once to me, then turns around and leaves in silence. Silence that fills the air, makes everything... muffled and loud all at once. I can't describe it: it's like the quiet outside is shoving its way into my skull and filling it up with air and pressure. That is, until the silence is broken by a slow, obnoxious clapping, and I look slowly up to see Hel has reformed and is smiling at me distastefully, her head lowered and her gaze narrow and intent.
I glare at her over my shoulder, and Hel only shrugs at me in response, rubbing her frosty hands together as she says kindly: “This is all your own fault you know, Kvasir. You really just needed to be up front and honest with everyone, but like every politician and bureaucrat, you just couldn't, could you? For shame, shame, shame on you!”
My teeth grind slowly together as I straighten, but then I slowly close my eyes, lowering my head forwards. As I try to calm myself down, my hands reach up to smooth out my suit; as I try to get my scattered thoughts in order and my emotions under control, I tighten my tie and brush out the wrinkles and attempt to make myself presentable, as I always have.
“You're just like a machine, you know that?” My eyes snap open so I can glower at Hel, who pointedly makes several lurching, jagged movements with her arms and body. “A robot. A computer. Something else made of metal... but dammit, you have a heart! A soul, even!”
Hel makes some wild, vapid dramatic gesture and I ask acerbically: “And which of those things did you seek to injure by spouting off about what I've been doing with Aria? Or were you hoping that Terra was going to exact revenge on my body, instead?”
“Oh, shush up about that, you and I both know that it's wrong and bad and not good to go around having sex with other people behind the backs of your 'I-can-have-sex-with-you-but-we'll-never-really-be-equal-partners' partners.” Hel retorts, and I get the distinct feeling she's trying to make me angry. And I dislike how much success she's having with her efforts.
But I don't react. I don't give her that satisfaction as I turn around... only for my escapes to instantly be frozen in ice. I grit my teeth at the solid barrier in the hole in the wall, and the large bars of frost making the door impassable, before I turn around... and find Hel leaning down in my face, asking nonchalantly: “Where's all that trust you have for Gymbr when it comes to Terra and Aria?”
I freeze up. I don't know how to respond, how to react, as my heart clenches in my chest. I look up at her, and Hel smiles slightly, raising her hands on either side of her head before the cow-like head of the puppet revolves itself slowly and completely, even as she continues in that charming voice that fills my mind with... with fear and unease and worry... “You seem to be willing to extend... just about infinite trust to Gymbr. Yet you can't even tell the lady you're banging that you'd like to bang another lady... and let's note that Terra was the one who brought up all the legalities and laws and rules, knowing full well what it means for her. That she's... a side dish. But she was happy as a side dish, wasn't she? What do you think hurts her, that you like to have sex with animals smaller than you as well as animals larger than you or that you just didn't consider her worth your time to tell that in the first place, oh rational Lord Kvasir?
“And then there's Aria. Courageous little Aria, who you knew you were putting at much greater risk than Terra by letting her into your bed, by making it clear how much you wuv her... or at least her body... and yet you haven't trusted her with anything beyond your stupid little-boy code for where and when you should meet up to bump uglies, right?” Hel continues, and I have no words, no response, no reply to her. “Which is pretty stupid, since... you're leaving her out to dry if Gymbr decides to take a liking to the little Pegasus. By which I mean hurt her to hurt you.”
I grit my teeth, and Hel leans back and smiles coldly. “Or, you know, me. I could hurt Aria, too. I did, and you couldn't do anything and furthermore, wouldn't do anything. Sure, grand romantic gestures are stupid, Kvasir, and they don't really help anyone, but I think she might have felt better if you'd at least tried to run to her rescue instead of being a giant butthead and focusing on saving your own hide. Which got torched anyway.”
She snaps her fingers, and blue flames lick up along my back, making me stagger forwards with a hiss of pain before the infuriating, unfairly-strong goddess reaches out and grabs my tie, yanking me into the air by it to hold me at eye level with her bovine features and glittering, suddenly-angry eyes. She and I look at each other for a few moments, as I dangle helplessly in her frozen claws... and then suddenly, she smiles, and instead raises her free hand... a hand now holding a gorgeous, enormous soulstone orb, covered in intricate runes and shaped... perfectly .
It thrums with power, a core of dark light at its heart, and I breathe uneasily before the goddess drops me to my hooves and shoves this precious treasure into my arms like it's nothing more than a basketball. I look up at her like a dumb child as she sniffs disdainfully and says mildly: “Your toy. I hope you choose to do the right thing from here on out, Kvasir, and be the big boy that Valhalla needs. Now look, I ain't saying Gymbr is bad, or telling you who you should cheat on and who you shouldn't. I'm just saying that you have to be aware that all your actions have consequences.”
I look up at her: I want to retort, to be angry, to say something, anything... and all I can manage to do is nod in humiliation at being lectured like a child... and probably deserving it. I shrink my head a bit when she looks at me with contempt in her eyes, but also... that glee that never seems to really leave her. That enjoyment she seems to take in the struggle of everyone besides her, since... it seems that no matter what happens, Hel will always be cozy and safe in her little corner beneath the universe.
“Good boy.” she says, and then she's gone. I hug the soulstone orb closer against my body and shudder once, then clench my eyes tightly shut and lower my head. Everything feels... so heavy. Everything feels so impossible, and nothing seems to make sense, and all I know is that... I feel like I've failed everyone and everything.
I've removed a long, embarrassing portion of whining here. The story will be left to pick up from my dealings with Gymbr, as this is more crucial to understand what has happened here than my whimpering about what a failure I am.
I'm anxious as I follow the steps down into Gymbr's dungeon, the soulstone orb clutched tight against my chest. There are still... all kinds of unpleasant thoughts running around in my mind, but I'm doing my very best to ignore them for now, and only focus on the task at hand. I know that the course of action I'm taking is a dangerous one, after all.
I don't feel... as if I have much of a choice, however. Hel's nasty little speech is running around in my mind, and I don't think that I'm going to be able to depend on Terra to want to protect me for much longer. I doubt she'll even want to be around me for much longer, and if I can't get her to stay in Valhalla, at least... we'll lose a very powerful ally. At least, that's what I keep trying to tell myself, how I keep trying to look at things, in cold, logical terms...
But is that really why I'm carrying this soulstone orb down to give to a god from my deepest, darkest nightmares? Or is it because I'm... that desperate to maintain the one friendship I haven't completely screwed up with my... childishness, as Hel phrased it?
I try to push it out of my mind as I grimace and continue downwards, until I finally reach the bottom floor. There's little light here, and it takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the gloom and darkness. Nervousness creeps through me as I breathe slowly in and out, and strange light glows in pulses from the orb held tight in my arms, the rhythmic glow helping light the familiar path I begin down. But it's not the darkness that scares me, it's what the darkness represents: when the lights are off, it means either Gymbr isn't here, or he's in no mood to be disturbed.
All the same, I can't just carry this thing around with me all night, and... well, it's not like anyone desires my presence in the halls of Valhalla right now. The soldiers think I'm a coward, my fellow administrators are shunning me, Aria and Terra are nowhere to be found. It's amazing how in three hours, I've gone from undisputed Lord of Valhalla, to running through the halls for my life, to a broken loser that no one wants to even give the time, let alone take orders from.
I round a corner, and there: down an intersecting hall, sitting silently on a metal chair in front of some kind of gurney, is Gymbr. I stride slowly towards him, and he glances up lethargically as I approach, before the strange creature offers a... a smile. But it's not his usual smile, full of knowing and cunning and strength and intellect. It's a sad sort of expression, as he murmurs: “We have failed you.”
His claw reaches up when I draw close, and strokes slowly along the surface of the orb. Gymbr studies it silently, and the light in his emerald eyes seems to pulse in time with the dark flare throbbing in the sphere, that he so-gently touches. And then, to my surprise, he lets his claw fall away as he looks up at me, and for a moment he is... vulnerable, and open, and honest with me, as he says quietly: “We are sorry, Kvasir. You are a very different Kvasir than the one in our story. We will remember this in the future, and do better to work alongside you.”
I only nod; I don't trust myself to speak right now. I keep saying all the wrong things and using all the wrong words, after all. Gymbr looks at me, then he nods back before shifting and slowly pushing himself out of the chair... and I shiver as I realize... one of his wings is missing. There's just a large, swampy black patch where his wing once was, that reeks of... gasoline and chemicals.
I look at the creature for a few moments, then ask finally, as Gymbr forces himself to stand: “What's wrong with you? Is this...”
“You will be pleased to know that the madness has left us for now, that we are... lucid... but the disease that rampages through us has moved from our mind into our core. We may be too late. We may die.” It states this plainly and calmly, like it's talking about the weather. It's impressive how steady the creature keeps his voice stable... even though in his eyes, I see emotions of fear and turmoil and that must be... alien, to this so-strange thing. “But we wish to try and survive. We wish to do everything in our power to survive. And for this, we shall need your aid.”
“I understand.” I say quietly, and I shift uneasily before nodding once and looking down at the soulstone orb. Then, finally, I look up and ask: “What do you want me to do?”
Gymbr gives me a... a tired smile. That's the only way to describe it, with how listless, how out of energy he looks. There's silence between us for a few awkward moments, and then he says finally: “For now, nothing. We shall take the orb and finish preparations for the ritual. But tomorrow, we will require your assistance.”
I nod a little, and we study each other for a few moments before I finally hold this soulstone sphere of power out. Gymbr reaches up and takes it between his claws, gazing down and studying it as he murmurs: “You must remember something, Kvasir. In the future, we may do things that seem terrible. But we will do them with Valhalla's best interests in mind. No matter what we do, please remember that... we have done our very best to change. We are doing our very best to be... better than we have been in the past. We do not seek redemption, for that shall never be within our grasp; we seek only to do right to assuage the guilt in our soul.”
I shift uneasily, then nod a little and look away. There's an uncomfortable quiet between us before I begin to turn away... and then Gymbr asks abruptly: “How will you fix your own... difficulties?”
I glance over my shoulder in surprise, then sigh a little and shake my head, shifting uncomfortably as I murmur: “I'm not entirely sure. This isn't my area of expertise, after all, Gymbr. Emotions go against logic, they're... complicated and confusing.”
Gymbr nods to me as the creature hugs the orb against its body, and then he looks up and says softly: “We understand greed, Kvasir. We also understand that it is possible to have all things, given time and patience. Do not be like us, and rush for pleasures. Wait, and take your time, and use your gift of the logical mind to understand what you must do to achieve what you desire.”
I smile wryly at this, shaking my head and looking down. “I doubt that Aria or Terra want anything to do with me. Besides, it's petty drama-”
“It is a distraction. A distraction is serious, whether it is large or small. It still preys upon your mind and must be dealt with, not simply downplayed as 'dramatic' and relegated into some back corner of your mind, where it will grow and only prey worse upon you.” Gymbr replies, and I hear a... more feminine edge to its voice. I figure that's the female side of this dark, dual entity gaining dominance for the moment.
I only nod after a moment, and Gymbr seems... pleased that I agreed, at least. I shift a little, then, without any further words, I turn and head quickly out of the dungeons. Even after I turn the corner, I still have the sensation of... of being watched and followed. That it's still monitoring me somehow: and even if Gymbr is weak, I have no doubt that things that would be very difficult for you and me are still the simplest of tricks for it.
I make my way back up the stairs and to the sealed, secret door. I press my hand against it, closing my eyes and bowing my head forwards, and then I nod a little: I don't sense anyone on the other side. With a simple flick of my wrist, locks spin open and the armored door slides aside, letting me step out into the corridor before I sigh and slump my shoulders as the section of wall slides back into place behind me, clanking and clicking as the hidden door quickly seals itself shut.
Then I frown and look up at the sound of hooves approaching. I dread who it is, and my stomach doesn't quite unclench when I see it's Aria heading towards me. She's smiling, but it's not exactly a happy expression... it's another sad smile. Like Gymbr; I wonder, out of nowhere, if ponies seem to feel they always need to smile, no matter what emotion they're feeling.
I put my hands behind my back to hide their fidgeting as I look at her, and she stops a few feet away, looking up at me. We gaze at each other for a few long moments, and then Aria clears her throat before she says finally: “I spoke with Terra.”
An ill feeling twists through my body, and it must show on my face, because Aria looks up at me reassuringly and gestures with a hoof that it's okay. “No, don't worry, Lord Kvasir, nothing... nothing awful happened. It was... difficult, but we talked about things. I... understand a few things a little better now, where we all stand.
“I'm... I'm not really okay with the idea of being some filly on the side.” Aria says quietly, looking up at me, and I nod after a moment, not... really knowing how else I can possibly respond. We only look at each other, and then Aria lowers her head and murmurs: “But I do care about you, and I know what... I did... was stupid. I think... I know... we were both at fault, but it was both of us, who were at fault. Not just you.”
I shift uncomfortably: it's a statement of fact, one I don't think I can argue with. One that, to be entirely honest, I don't want to argue with. I don't want to take the full blame and factually speaking, she was the one who kissed me. And yet for some stupid reason part of me think this is unfair to her. So, finally, I settle for... an awkward sort of compromise: “We both... I should have been... more aware of the situation.”
Aria looks up at me, but she smiles a little after a moment, shaking her head and saying quietly: “I guess if anyone else had said that, I'd be... mad as hell at them, Lord Kvasir. But with you it's different; with you, at least it tells me that you're trying.”
I fidget, my hands squeezing together behind my back: I feel uncomfortable. I try my hardest to keep my features... neutral, but it's hard. Oh, how it's hard.
I want to say something, but I have no idea what would be appropriate, given the situation. More than that, I don't entirely trust myself to speak: I'm afraid my voice is going to give away my emotions, or I'm simply going to stumble into saying something to worsen the awkwardness of the situation. And thankfully, keeping silent seems to be the right choice, as Aria continues: “I don't want to sneak around with you anymore, but... after talking with Terra, and... well, thinking about things myself... I know that... we can't exactly be equal partners, either. I'm your assistant. You're my boss, and King of Valhalla. And there are... lots of rules and laws in the way.
“What we did was stupid. What I did was stupid.” Aria looks up at me with a small smile. “And you know what else is stupid? The law that says I could never... hold a title beside you, or be your wife, but for all intents and purposes I could be everything else. What's really stupid is that I can't handle that thought: it's just a dumb title, but... it would never feel quite right to me. So I know I started things between us and now... I have to end that.”
I'm silent. It... hurts. It makes my heart twist, even if some... cowardly, weak part of me is relieved, too. I breathe slowly in and out, then finally nod hesitantly before I close my eyes and say quietly: “I understand, Aria. I don't want to, but... I think I do all the same. So you'll be taking that job offer as Valkyrie?”
“No. But I don't want to be your aide anymore, either.” Aria hesitates, looking up at me as I tilt my head before she steps forwards and bows her head politely. “I think I deserve... more. I'd like to apply for Terra's old position, because I think she's... she wants to do something else.”
That makes my heart sink as I sigh quietly and look down. For a moment, I study Aria, and then I nod hesitantly before saying finally: “I'll speak to Terra. If she recommends you, then I'll let you try out for the position against the other candidates. I can't guarantee it, though, I need... I need to look at more than personal choice when it comes to teachers for the new Valkyries. I'm sorry.”
I don't know why I said 'I'm sorry.' Well, I am, but it's not... precisely professional in this circumstance. Yet all the same, Aria seems to appreciate the sentiment as she nods to me and murmurs: “Okay. It's silly to say this because it doesn't often work out, but I do want to be friends, too.”
I nod to her, and Aria and I look at each other before she flaps her wings and lifts into the air in front of me, offering her front hoof. I take it and shake it once, then... hold it for a moment longer, that last contact with her, before she pulls it gently back.
We're quiet as we look at one-another, and then Aria smiles a bit to me before she turns and drops back to the ground to walk away. I watch her leave, then sigh quietly and lower my head, putting my hands behind my back as I look silently at the ground.
Drama. Pointless, petty drama, that's all it is, I tell myself. Except my 'petty drama' has just cost me an assistant and possibly lost me the best teacher for my new Valkyries project. My 'petty drama' has drastically impeded productivity and the business of Valhalla. My 'petty drama' has had massive real-world consequences, and all because I didn't want to deal with the real world.
I turn around and... start down the hall, aimless for now. I want to see Terra, but I have the feeling that... she'll find me when she's ready, and it would be better not to antagonize her any further than I already have, purposefully or inadvertently. So instead I decide to focus on myself, and... try and clean up the little bit of this mess that I can.
The only thing I can really think of is that... at least Gymbr and I seem to have reached some awkward... partnership. At least that's a little bit of light amongst all this darkness... even if for some reason, the words he spoke... they leave an uneasy weight in my distracted mind.
Entry Eight
As I work quietly in my study, I feel... I'm not entirely sure. Thankful, I think, might be the right word. After all, it's only been a few hours since things have... returned to normal, for lack of a better term. Things are never exactly normal here around Valhalla, after all.
Aria has already excused herself from duties as my aide: it tells me that even if she doesn't get the position as trainer, she has no intent to return to being my assistant. I've given Excelsior the go-ahead to begin interviewing new candidates for her position and to send out inquiries to eligible administrators who have shown a previous interest in the job.
The scandal was very short lived, which I'm glad for. There's still gossip, but from the moment I returned to work, I felt myself falling back into old habits, and it's helped throw off the worst of the scrutiny. People may still disapprove of what I've done and this disruption, but... all work is being covered and all business is being dealt with as professionally as possible. There's been little need for any further appeasement than this.
I've scheduled time off tonight to see Gymbr. I expect that he's eager to perform the ritual, and I plan to... offer any further help I can give him if he's not ready. I have no idea what he actually intends to do with this soulstone, although... I do have a few ideas. I'm... I'm not worried about that. Now that he seems... saner, even if less whole physically... what worries me more is the idea that Gymbr might die. From a purely utilitarian standpoint, this would be the loss of a massive asset to Valhalla, after all.
And from... a standpoint I'm still uncomfortable with acknowledging... I don't want to lose this creature I'm beginning to consider a friend.
I sigh a little, then shake myself out and tap moodily at the pile of income forms on my desk that I've been attempting to wade through by myself. It's... lonely without the help of anyone. I glance moodily towards the large safe against one wall, where I know the enchanted quill is still busily writing away on an almost-endless roll of parchment: I'm starting to consider just leaving it going forever, and perhaps editing the pages it finishes every night for readability. Considering the tenseness of things, that might be for the best.
Then my attention is drawn by a knock at the door, and I tilt my head before beginning to get up... and I find myself too lazy to stand, and that for the first time in a long time, I can't be bothered to care about the privacy of my inner sanctum.
So I sigh and flick my hand, the door clicking open as I begin: “Come in, but...”
My next words simply... fade out of my throat as I see that... it's Terra. I'm surprised to see her already as I straighten immediately, then stumble out of my chair as the dragon carefully squeezes her way into my study.
She closes the door with a flick of her tail and looks back and forth, as I fidget a little and look up at her awkwardly. We gaze at each other for... what feels like the longest time, before she offers a smile and says quietly: “I've never been in here before. It's nice... organized, cozy. Lots of textbooks, though, and... nonfiction stuff.”
I don't really know how to reply to that. I just look up at her awkwardly, and she gazes back silently before saying quietly: “I don't want to stay here on work orders from Hel, as a coach and trainer for the new Valkyries.”
Part of me... deflates. My shoulders slump a bit, and I nod mutely, trying to... think of what to say as I assume the worst: that she wants to return to Helheim. I begin to open my mouth, but she cuts me off with something that takes me by complete surprise: “I want to... live in Heaven, permanently, and I want to apply for a new job here, whatever position is available. And I want... you to stop keeping secrets from me.”
I look up at her blankly, and Terra silently settles down in front of me, looking across at me. She smiles after a moment, murmuring: “I was a mistress... am a mistress, Lord Kvasir. I'm okay with that. I spent a lot of time in Helheim after living through a power-based culture, and I understand... cravings, especially after being just exposed to... something unfamiliar, but good.
“Lord Kvasir... Kvas... I care very deeply about you. You mean a world to me.” she continues, and I lean back against the chair, lowering my head a little, feeling... embarrassed, in a word. “The title doesn't matter to me. The status doesn't matter to me. The privilege is in being able to be... with you. Know you, love you, see the part of you you hide away so much...”
She reaches up and grasps my tie quietly, then pulls me closer by it before her claw slips upwards: she's surprisingly dexterous, easily undoing the knot and pulling the garment away, dropping it to the floor as she smiles faintly up at me. I reach up, awkwardly touching my bare neck, but she holds my gaze with her baby blue eyes. “I like you more without a tie, Lord Kvasir. And I want to help you with... all these things preying on you. I'm still angry at you and I need a promise that you're going to... be honest with me... but I do want to... be beside you. One day, maybe you'll have to take a Queen: I still plan to be here for you, though. I like you a lot.”
I laugh a little at this: it seems so... so... I don't know. I don't know how else to react. And Terra seems to understand as she smiles at me, then looks back and forth before I sigh and reach up to hesitantly stroke along the end of her muzzle, murmuring: “Thank you, Terra. I'll see what's available, then, and... I... I'm sorry. I'm also... happy that... you're going to stay here with me. That means more to me than I can begin to express.”
Terra only smiles at me, and I bow my head towards her politely. There's silence for a few moments, and I feel... a gnawing inside me before I clear my throat. I reach up to adjust my tie, realizing too late it's not there, and instead my hands move to smooth out my collar awkwardly.
I look at her, think of what she's just said, and she gives me a faint smile before I lower my head and murmur quietly: “I... I suppose I should share another secret with you, then, Terra. It's... very difficult, but I don't... I never thought...”
Terra cocks her head curiously, leaning towards me, and I look up at her and steel myself, gathering the little resolve I have as I breathe slowly in and out before I say quietly: “I don't want to keep any secrets from you, and I need... I think both I and my... friend... need help. Need someone else to rely on.”
The demonic dragon frowns curiously at this, and I sigh quietly as I reach back and turn my chair around so I can sit back on it, dropping my elbows on my knees as I murmur: “And I should confess that I am... a coward, as you've no doubt inferred from how I handled the situation with Aria. But I know that even if this will make you think less of me, perhaps even question my integrity, my very sanity... I have to be honest with you, and show you... him.”
She looks worried now. Even after everything I've done to her... she looks concerned for me. And how that makes me feel... I don't have any words for it, really. I'm only able to lower my head and close my eyes and feel... awkward, and more than a little ashamed. “What is it, Kvasir? What are you talking about?”
“I'll show you tonight.” I promise quietly, and Terra frowns as she stands up, looking down at me, but I look up with a small smile, almost pleadingly. I shake my head a little as I say quietly: “Please. I know I don't deserve it, but I need you to just listen to me on this subject and... to be prepared for tonight.”
Terra nods slowly after a moment. She looks uncomfortable, leaning in, studying me... she's worried for me. It... hurts, because I know that I don't deserve that.
Finally, she straightens, and we look at each other before Terra says quietly: “No secrets then, Kvasir. You'll tell me everything tonight, right?”
“You have my promise.” I say quietly, and Terra looks satisfied with this before I hesitate, then hold up a hand before she can turn away. “Wait.”
She looks back at me, and I glance down, biting my lip and... finally, I look up and say: “The combination to my safe is the three digits taken from the month and day for All Father's Day. Please remember that. It's important, in case something happens to me.”
“You're scaring me, Kvasir.” Terra says quietly, looking at me silently, and I smile faintly as I nod and look down.
“I've been scaring myself this last while.” I say finally, then I look up at her, at her beautiful eyes, at her polished body. “I don't want to do any work right now. Would you like to have lunch together?”
Terra smiles at me, but at the same time, I see that... I've probably only made her more worried. Still, she nods to me, and I stand up and look at her for a moment before I step forwards and hesitantly reach up to touch her face.
She doesn't pull away, and it's the greatest relief in the world to me. I smile a little after a moment, and this seems to give some reassurance to Terra, who softens a bit before she suddenly reaches out and sweeps me up in a bone-crushing hug, making me groan a bit... but in spite of the pain and the ire it causes me, I'm... I'm glad for it. More glad for it than I can begin to express.
Eventually, Terra lets go of and drops me back to my hooves, smiling down at me kindly before she pets me like a child, and I grimace a little and reach up to smooth out my hair. And before I can, she ruffles my mane up into a mess, and I sigh tiredly as she only laughs. She laughs like everything is okay, like there's never been any conflict between us, like there's no worries or fears or constant threat on the horizon... and in that one, single moment, I'm unable to stop myself from smiling at her and feeling like... like for a bare second in time, everything really is okay.
I have edited out my day. It's not worth getting into. It's not worth discussing, and I do not feel it adds anything to this manuscript of daily entries that I have been assembling. All that is important to note is that Terra and I spent the day together. That is all. If it was memorable, it was for personal reasons that are of no importance to this narrative whatsoever. Instead, I feel it was important to move directly into the events that transpired after I opened the door to Gymbr's dungeon for Terra.
I lead Terra down the stairs, looking back and forth uneasily before glancing up with a strange feeling of relief at the fact that dim light floods the dungeon halls. Gymbr must be here, and is likely... more stable. Or at least that's what I hope.
Terra looks back and forth, frowning uneasily before she murmurs: “What did you mean, there's a god living here? This place feels... it feels cold, and empty. There's... malice in the air here, Kvasir, how can you trust something that emanates so much... wrongness?”
“It's hard to explain. But this is in the best interests of Valhalla.” I say quietly, then I look up and call calmly: “Gymbr, I have brought an associ...” I cut myself off, clear my throat, and I feel dry amusement at the fact that my voice wavers more when I say: “I have brought my mistress, Terra.”
Terra looks... touched. It's almost bizarre, but... I shake it off, and instead turn my eyes ahead again as we're greeted by silence. I slow my pace, unsure of where to go as we reach the intersection: a hall stand to either side, and this kind of... foyer bottlenecks in front of us, but then opens on a much wider room. And of course, there's always the option of retreating back to the stairs and just forgetting about this entire mess...
Then I hear the clicking sound of Gymbr's claws... and moments later, he approaches through the bottleneck, looking at us quietly. Terra's eyes widen as she shivers, automatically stepping protectively up beside me as she studies him... and I grimace myself at the sight of the god-thing, at... what he's become, naked and vulnerable in the dim light.
His body is emaciated, and more patches of... chemical-reeking rot have spread over him. His one wing droops at his side, broken and leaking feathers and blood. His mane and tail, normally seas of black flame, are now nothing more than a few gray strands.
He stumbles a little, then catches himself and looks up. His mouth opens... and the reek of rot threatens to choke me where I stand, as he stares at me with... one eye. The other is a blind pit, slowly... by Mimir's head, I realize it's rotting in its very socket, turning to... no, I can't think about it. It makes my stomach turn, and beside me, even Terra shifts in disgust.
“I am glad to see you... mending fences. We... never had the strength to. The Kvasir of our reality... was too weak to admit his failings.” Gymbr coughs hard several times, and... a tooth falls out. The sound of it hitting the floor, the sight of it... it makes me feel lightheaded. It sticks in my mind, before the broken god-thing looks up and whispers: “But we do not have time for pleasantries. Come, we have prepared the ritual... we must work quickly.”
“What is going on? What is that?” Terra asks weakly as Gymbr drags itself slowly around in a circle, and I shake my head slowly and glance over my shoulder at her, gesturing for her to follow. “Lord Kvasir, wait, I don't think...”
“Gymbr was a Tulpa that became reality. Gained its own full life... but something happened to him. He is a powerful god, but one that has no... no meaning to its existence. With nothing fueling his immense power... his body is consuming itself.” I tell her: it's what I think is the truth, what I think I've figured out... and ahead, Gymbr nods weakly, confirming my guesses. “The soulstone orb that Hel provided me with...”
I'm less sure about this, and the answer Gymbr gives is somehow... incomplete: “It will stabilize us. It will renew our strength.”
Yet it's more than that, isn't it? And nor did Gymbr mention this was supposed to act like... a leash and collar. I'm unsure myself if it really will, or if the creature was lying... but either way, I know I've come too far to turn back now. Nor can I go back on my word to Gymbr: this is... all of this is simply too important.
Terra follows me nervously, her metallic scales bristled, her eyes locked on the creature as we enter the large room, and I'm unsurprised to see that Gymbr has created some kind of warding circle. There's runes in blood all along the floor, and crystalline rods imbedded around the border at different points to focus magic inwards. And at the center of it all, there are restraints, and a body-shaped matting upon which rests the soulstone orb.
Gymbr walks towards this, then its horn glows – revealing cracks along the spire that fizzle with energy – as it raises a claw. The soulstone orb floats into the air unsteadily, then glides silently towards me, and I catch it as I stop outside the edge of the runic circle with Terra.
We both watch as the god thing turns around and lowers its head, then gazes at me through its single bleary eye, whispering: “This is our last hope, and our most desperate one. Please, we plead of you, Kvasir... help us. We will be indebted to you, and swear to serve you loyally, much more loyally than we have... and we shall promise the same to you as well, Terra, chosen suitor of Lord Kvasir.”
Terra shifts uncomfortably, and I turn towards her, but she shakes her head fiercely and says before I can speak: “No, I... I am here to serve, Lord Kvasir, and if you say we should help this creature... I'm willing to do whatever I have to, in order to help him. But... this circle...”
“It is a lifetrap. We have enough strength for most of the ritual, but your aid is necessary: we must ask that you...” Gymbr stops, and I realize... the creature is afraid. This is the first time I've ever seen it hesitate, and I fear what's coming next. What it must want. “We must ask that you tear open our chest, and remove our dying Kundalini. Then you must replace it with the soulstone orb, and... bind the orb to us. We do not possess the magic, and will likely not possess the sanity to finish the ritual. But in our current state, we will also be too weak to break our bonds...”
My eyes widen as I understand why the lifetrap is here. A lifetrap is used to keep a body alive, even after it should be dead... but it's very, very rarely used by healers. It's a tool mainly used by torturers, to keep their victims alive long enough for them to extract all the information they need. In this case, the lifetrap will keep Gymbr alive long enough for us to replace his... his core.
I'm not surprised to learn that Gymbr has the same engine that a Tyrant Wyrm does: much more an organic machine than a heart, it's what powers Tyrant Wyrms, gives those monsters their life and enormous power... so I wonder whether or not Gymbr will be able to survive it being replaced with an artificial source of energy. But finally, I nod uneasily, and I turn my eyes towards Terra, who grimaces only slightly before she murmurs: “I'll do the cutting.”
“Thank you.” I say quietly, then I look up and watch as Gymbr carefully lays himself back on the bedding. The creature has a strange dignity as it settles itself down into the cradle of restraints, and I'm... something about the way it so fearlessly lets the locks seal around its limbs, the way it stares resolutely upwards, how controlled and calm the animal god seems in spite of everything that I know must be going through its strange dual mind... I don't just respect it, I admire it.
I have edited here, because... what follows is... unpleasant. I don't think it has much bearing on events, either: it was simply... a gory, painful process. Gymbr screamed and fought both us and its own instincts. I can only admire what the creature was willing to go through, even with... how much was uncertain. How much of this process was based on hope.
Terra and I worked well together. We both ended up soaked in... blood and black poison, but without her, I don't think it would have been possible. She was able to restrain Gymbr when he broke one of the shackles at the end, and I was able to finish... I don't know what the proper word is. Attaching? Connecting? Implanting? On the one hand it was like removing part of a machine, and putting in a new engine, a new set of gears and pistons: on the other, it was like ripping out the heart of a living animal, and trying to shove a magic rock in place to keep blood flowing and the lungs billowing and the body working.
But Gymbr was... alive, when we left him. We were afraid that once the lifetrap's magic wore out, he would die... if not because of the soulstone core failing to do its job,then simply from shock and trauma and the weakness that had overtaken the creature.
Yet he clung on to life. He clung on, even though... that soulstone orb now glows eerily out of his chest. It's a little too large to fit properly in his breast, so part of it domes out of his body, and I did my best to... graft flesh and hide to blue soulstone. It's the best we could do for now, and I didn't quite dare to attempt to rearrange the creature's organs or body structure in order to try and force the soulstone core in any deeper.
We took the restraints off the god, but... we felt too nervous about trying to move him. I applied the little healing magic I know, but Gymbr is... too alien, and too powerful. It had all the effect of pouring a cold cup of water into a boiling ocean. So instead, we decided to stay until the creature... regained his senses. He was watching us, after all, he just seemed... unable to process what was going on. I was afraid for almost an hour that he had lost his mind, as Terra sat beside me, comfortingly holding me against her.
Gymbr did eventually come to. Lucidity came back in his eyes as he shifted on the bed, then he rose his claws. He was still sweating that dark poison, but it seemed like less... or at least, that's what I hoped. And when I sat up, he looked over at me and said quietly: “Thank you. Please, leave us. We will require... hibernation, for at least a week.”
And that was the last Gymbr said. He dragged himself to his claws, and slowly stumbled away, and Terra and I simply sat and watched until he pushed his way through a doorway and disappeared. I felt... strange.
I've decided this conversation following has some bearing on events, so I've included it in these pages instead of editing it out. I believe it helps clarify my own thoughts and allowed me to settle my mind on the subject of Gymbr. I'll let the story resume from after Terra and I left Gymbr's dungeon.
As the hidden door closes behind us, I glance awkwardly over my shoulder at Terra, and she looks back at me silently. I can't read what's going on in her eyes, and I reach up to adjust my tie... only to realize too late it's not there, so I end up tugging at my collar instead. And Terra smiles a little, which relieves me more than I want to admit.
After a moment, she asks quietly: “How did you sneak Gymbr into Valhalla? And why haven't you told anyone about him?”
“It wasn't very hard.” I stop, then hesitate before looking up and adding quietly: “Please don't use his name outside of private. This... his existence must remain a secret for now, until he's ready. Brynhild and Scrivener Blooms have a history with him, and he's attempting to avoid advertising his existence.”
Terra nods after a moment, then she looks at me pointedly, and I shrug a little as I turn around and begin to lead her down the hall, glancing back and forth as I answer: “My friend polymorphed himself and I was able to simply carry him into the Castle. From there, it was simply a matter of finding a place that is out of use: I chose a section of dungeons I had originally been planning to restructure into a safehouse, and my friend altered them to his liking.”
She nods and then leans down, nudging me a few times with her muzzle, and I grimace a bit before looking moodily over at her. She half-whimpers, half-grumbles at me, and I sigh tiredly before rubbing slowly at my face, figuring she must want a better answer than the one I already gave her about why he's kept secret. “He is a powerful god. A powerful force. But he also comes from an uncertain background and is associated with... more bad than he is good. My actions would be... frowned upon.”
Terra nods again, then she looks up and asks quietly: “And that soulstone orb... are you sure giving it to him was a good idea? I may have only caught a hint of what it's been imbued with, but the magic is... it's extremely powerful.”
I nod back and slide my hands behind my back as we walk onwards down the hall, and I open my mouth... but bite back the words I want to say. The reassurances, the things I don't entirely feel, the lies... I promised her I would be honest. So I'm honest: “I don't know.”
Terra looks at me, but then she gives a small smile. She seems to appreciate it as she studies me for a moment, then she leans over and simply drops her head on my shoulder, and I sigh a little despite the odd flutter this sends through me as we walk through the halls of Valhalla together like that.
We head towards my quarters, and... she follows me into my room, without hesitation. I'm surprised, to be entirely honest, but she only smiles faintly as she studies me, then says finally: “You took off your bracelet.”
I glance down at my wrist, then nod a little before I gesture across the room, and Terra raises her head before visibly warming at the sight of the bracelet sitting quietly on a cushion on my dresser. I shrug a bit when she returns her eyes to me, saying quietly: “I didn't feel I deserved to wear it.”
Terra leans forwards and pushes me back down onto the bed, and I wince a bit as she pins me by the shoulders... but she only smiles at me, lingering over me, gazing down at me with tenderness in her eyes. Tenderness I also feel I don't deserve, as she says softly: “Lord Kvasir, you're a lot of things good and bad. But it's because of all those things that I care about you. And your good qualities far outweigh your bad.”
I don't know about that being true, but it does make me feel better as I gaze up at her silently. She looks back down at me, and then she leans down and our mouths meet, and the kiss is... it's like a first kiss all over again. It's like experiencing the breath of life after spending so long on the edge of a cliff leading down, down, far deep into darkness...
When our mouths part, we look at each other, we see each other, and into each other, and I reach up and stroke slowly along her forelimbs as her claws settle a little more on me. I'm not afraid of her hurting me, because I know more than ever that she never would. And I know she doesn't entirely trust me yet, but I don't blame her for that. I can't blame her for that, all things considered.
We hesitate, and then Terra leans down and gazes back and forth over me before her claw slips over my chest, drawing along it gently as she murmurs: “Lord Kvasir... I don't doubt you, I want you to know that, okay? I just worry that...”
“I know. I understand that, and... I have my own concerns as well. I'm just not sure what I should do.” I say quietly, looking down and shaking my head slowly. “We need Gymbr's help. We need a powerful ally like him, and a large part of me...”
“You sympathize with him.” Terra looks at me, and I just nod. There's no need for words, and no need to deny it. And she smiles a little after a moment before shifting off me and crawling up onto the bed, gesturing easily at me.
I sigh, but follow after a moment, then make a bit of a face when she reaches out and easily unbuttons my clothing, pulling it off me and tossing it aside. I'm about to protest, but then I see the bloodstains and splashes of poison still on it and any excuses I might have die in my throat: Terra, at least, looks polished and pristine, but I suppose having metal scales constantly flowing with magical energies give a few advantages apart from the obvious.
Soon enough, I'm wearing... well, nothing. And she's only adorned in her strange bone charms. She pulls me towards her so she can half curl up around me, and I quietly lace my fingers together as I simply gaze off into the distance, not really even seeing the wall opposite as Terra strokes soothingly through my hair and keeps her other claw against my chest.
We're together. I like that, and it comforts me. It gives me strength, and I shift a little before finally glancing up at her as she looks down at me. We look at each other, eyes locked, and then she asks me quietly: “What do you think is more important... having a powerful tool, or having a friend?”
The answer comes to me quickly but... I'm surprised by it. It takes me a few moments of processing before I'm actually able to say it, looking up at her and saying softly: “A friend. Which makes me thinks that these ponies have rubbed off on me more than I like to think.”
“A weapon is only as good or bad as the hands that put it to use. A friend can usually be counted on, for better or worse.” Terra replies quietly, and I smile a little at this thought. “Plus friends are much harder to turn against you.”
“I hope so. Sometimes I honestly wonder if the ponies... if I myself... don't put too much stock in what's nonsense and fairy tales.” I murmur, looking moodily down, and Terra laughs and squeezes me gently, making me wince.
“Maybe sometimes they do, Kvasir, but groups of ponies regularly put a stop to creatures like me, and worse.” Terra says pointedly, and I grumble at this thought, wanting to point out all the flaws in her statement... except she just squeezes me again, effectively silencing me and letting her continue: “Lord Kvasir, when we grow up, we... stop believing in fairy tales. I know this very well. But after we reach a certain age, everything starts to take on a certain magic again, if we let it. We begin to reexperience things... and rarely, now and then, we get a chance to take the blinders from our eyes and live all over again, seeing the world for what it really is beneath the layers of glitter and garbage we cover everything in. And things are pretty, you know?”
“Are they?” I ask dryly, and Terra nods childishly a few times, which makes me sigh and shake my head slowly. But all the same, I think she's right... even if you're not blindly optimistic like she is, you can still look out at things and see... there are little miracles here and there, now and then.
Or maybe that's just Terra and these feelings of euphoria I'm currently filled with all rubbing off on me. I shake myself out, try to ground myself and get a little back to normal, and then I wince when Terra pushes her cold nose firmly down against the side of my neck, grinding my teeth together as I flinch before the dragon says kindly: “They are, and you have to stop thinking so much. You need to try, just for a little while, to be bright and happy and stuff.”
“Why?” I ask distastefully, and the dragon shrugs a little. How I hate that that is her response, and I sigh tiredly and close my eyes for a moment before dropping my head back and staring up at the ceiling. “I suppose that... I am happy about having you here with me, don't doubt that-”
“I didn't even bring that up.” Terra says huffily, and then she squeezes me lightly. “And I'm not talking about Gymbr, either. I'm just talking about things in general. You have this bad habit of mixing up... logic and realism and pessimism, I think. Because you know that in reality, sometimes unbelievable things happen, right?”
I decide it's safer not to answer this question, and we're quiet as we rest together for a little while before Terra finally asks me something I hadn't even considered: “Do you think that Hel might have some kind of plan for Gymbr?”
I open my mouth... then close it slowly. Hel was strangely eager to pass on the soulstone orb... Hel did, in her twisted way, play her part towards convincing me to help Gymbr. Yes, she perhaps implied I shouldn't... but when have I ever thought that doing what Hel said is a good idea?
Hel is cunning and ruthless. She clearly knew about Gymbr's existence, and I can't rule out she knew what the soulstone orb was for. Which unfortunately means that this may have been Hel's ultimate end: a way for her to control... that terrible, beyond-god thing. I shudder at the thought of it: Hel, with Gymbr as her new dog, the one thing that might be able to stop even her fearsome Teddy. It makes my stomach twist. It makes my mind writhe and ache.
I grimace up at Terra, but she only smiles soothingly and reaches up to brush a claw through my hair, saying quietly: “Now stop, Lord Kvasir. I can see you already working yourself up a little, but... I want you to keep in mind that Hel may play her twisted games, and Hel may take great pleasure in causing all kinds of troubles and difficulties, but she hasn't ever tried to topple Valhalla, and she has no interest in destroying us or you.”
I'm silent, and eventually my fear turns to something more like... discomfort and distaste. Being indebted to Hel as I am is bad enough as it is. The thought of Hel having yet something else to hold over my head like this... “For some reason, that doesn't reassure me.”
“Pride?” Terra suggests half-playfully, and I give her a dry look. But she only smiles at me in response. “Well, it's true, Lord Kvasir. You do have quite a bit of pride. A strange kind of pride, maybe, but... pride all the same.”
“How is my pride strange? I'm not even sure I'm that prideful.”
“You know, a mark that you're prideful is that you don't think you're prideful, just like being crazy. Even modest people think they have pride... well, I mean, part of the problem with modest people is that they usually think they're too prideful when really they're not but, you know, you know what I mean.” Terra says with a few quick nods, and I sigh even as I smile wryly. I'm both very happy that she's acting like herself and... very irritated that she's acting like herself. “I think it makes sense!”
“Of course.” I begin to glance away, and then I wince when Terra steps on my head, squishing me back into the mattress. I grumble moodily, pushing at her and returning my eyes to her, and she leans down... but in spite of her soft expression, I can see that she's serious, too. Much more serious than I expected her to be.
She studies me for a moment, and I look back at her awkwardly with her claw still resting on my head before she says softly: “You might not have a lot of pride in yourself, but I know you take a lot of pride in your work. Not even Valhalla, but the way you work, your scheduling, how you manage things. It's a funny kind of pride, but I think it's still kind of serious sometimes because... you're not really willing to change all that, are you?”
I look thoughtfully up at Terra, who looks back at me and nods a few times, and then I sigh and shift a little, saying finally: “Maybe not but... I've always managed to keep things running, and my administrative techniques have-”
Terra leans down and pushes her cold nose against my neck, and I push at her with a wince, which just makes her firmly shove down against my head and squish me into the bed. I sigh tiredly, and there's silence for a few moments before Terra says firmly: “We need to try something else.”
“Change for the sake of change is unnecessary and counterproductive. We haven't even returned to full productivity yet since Hel's attacks.” I mutter, and Terra only shakes her head childishly, as if this is an argument. Well, I suppose for her it usually is: being a giant demon dragon and all, there's not many who would dare argue with her. But I'm stubborn. “We would only be inviting in more trouble by modifying our approach to dealing with the business of Valhalla. Considering the range of problems we're faced with, I don't think it would be wise.”
“I think you need to loosen up, Kvas.” Terra says kindly, and I grumble at her before she leans down and almost pushes her face into mine, making me wince. “What's the worst that could happen?”
“Economic collapse leading to a desire for reform that ousts me from office and replaces me with some non-Asgardian god, leading to the complete dissolution of the Vale and Castle.” I mutter, and Terra looks at me blankly for a few moments before I add dryly: “And Kvas was what Valthrudnir always called the elixir made from my blood after draining it from me.”
“It's also short for your name.” Terra says informatively, and I groan before wincing when she pulls me close, smiling warmly down at me. “All just words. Words don't matter all that much, Lord Kvasir, actions do. I try to use the right, fancy words around you because I know that's your preference but... like I make adjustments for you... I want you to try and make allowances for me, too.”
“I do. Of course I do, Terra.” I say, and I'm surprised by how I almost feel... injured. “I trusted you with Gymbr, didn't I?”
“Well, yeah, but uh... think of like, your diplomacy and stuff. You have to do more than extend trust to other nations, you have to compromise with them.” Terra nods firmly, and I glower at her and the childish comparison. It frustrates me because it feels a little patronizing, and yet I can't be entirely mad at her, either.
We look at each other for a few moments and then I say moodily: “So you think that we're different nations now, is that it?”
“Well, I am kind of a demon and a dragon and you're a... Kvasir.” Terra says after a moment, poking my chest a few times with one claw, and I grumble as I shove at her a bit.
Finally, I sigh and decide not to pursue the subject any further. I drop my head moodily, and there's silence between us for a few moments before I mutter: “I'll consider the proposal for modifying the way we deal with Valhalla's business. But not for the near future, we need to stabilize Valhalla and move past... my own issues. And on that note, I will do my best to... compromise with you. From one 'country' to another.”
“Nation. I like the word nation better.” Terra nods a few times, and even as I shift to rest more comfortably back against the larger dragon, part of me wants to hit her. But after a moment, Terra smiles at me and adds quietly: “Thank you, by the way for... for being so honest about Gymbr. I promise I won't tell a soul. I want you to be able to trust me with your secrets, with... all of you.”
I shift at this, smiling a little at the thought as I glance over at her. My mouth feels dry for a moment and I'm... enamored with her all over again. Physically and on an emotional level, and I know that what she's said is really no different than many of the things she'd said over the day, but perhaps the repetition and the way she said it... it's finally sunk in.
I nod to her awkwardly, and she nods back with a smile before I glance down and murmur: “I'm still not entirely sure that I did the right thing with Gymbr. Especially with the thought of what Hel might have done in mind...”
Terra nods and hesitates, before she says quietly: “To be honest, Lord Kvasir... I'm really glad that whether you did the right thing or not... you took this chance, and you did it for more reasons than just because it would benefit Valhalla to have a creature like that... on watch. But... just how strong is Gymbr, Kvasir?”
“Far more powerful than most of us can comprehend, I think.” I say quietly, shaking my head slowly before I glance up at her. “From what I know, he's vulnerable only to purification and anti-magic. At full power... I think he would have even been a match for a high-standing Jötnar .”
Terra nods again, studying me for a few moments before she quietly touches my face, saying softly: “You envy that strength, don't you?”
I shrug and give a small smile. “I suppose. Being... an administrator and a crafted homunculus as I am... it's frustrating at times. I'm designed from other gods, to be a god myself... but a very weak god. I do not like... that I am incapable of defending my own home and kingdom.”
We're silent for a little while as we sit together, and then Terra leans over and kisses the side of my neck quietly. I close my eyes and settle a little, and we just stay together for a little while before she murmurs: “You're not weak, Lord Kvasir.”
I don't know if that's true or not... but I appreciate the sentiment. I smile a little as I shrug slowly, and we rest together as the silence spirals out before she drops her head over my shoulder and pulls me closer up against her chest.
My own thoughts are still lingering on Gymbr and Hel. The Pious, my administration duties, Brynhild, dealing with Antares Mīrus and Looking Glass World, where the Valkyries are undoubtedly anxiously awaiting to hear from the child... all of this has fallen to a back burner for now. All I can focus on... all I want to focus on... are the two creatures that represent both the greatest threat and the greatest resource Valhalla has.
There's this strange sensation in my mind. The sense again that I've missed some important piece of information I should already have drawn a few answers from. But just as I begin to think deeper on the subject, Terra pushes her cold nose firmly down into the side of my neck, and I wince and shove at her moodily before she pulls back with an amused smile. “You're thinking too much again, Kvas. You really need to stop that.”
“Thinking is the only thing I can really do, Terra.” I say moodily, and Terra shrugs cheerfully. I shift around to try and glare up at her, but she only opens her jaws and settles her entire mouth around my face, essentially deadening any possible argument I could make on the subject.
I sit there awkwardly for a moment, and then Terra draws her head back and smiles down at me before saying kindly: “Lord Kvasir, sometimes not-thinking is as important as thinking, okay? Try and remember that, and try and... not-think more often.”
I sigh a little at this, then nod a bit as I close my eyes and settle against her, muttering: “Then I'd appreciate it if you'd stop trying to win arguments by swallowing my head.”
“I never swallowed your head! I just put it in my mouth.” Terra says firmly, then she giggles like a child, and I sigh and roll my eyes as I look moodily to the side before Terra squeezes me firmly up against her body, making me wince a bit at how I feel like such a tiny toy in her limbs. “Fine, fine, I get what you mean. But you know, sometimes the direct approach is best, that's all!”
I don't really know how to argue with this line of reasoning, so I just nod and rest against her meditatively as I close my eyes. I rest in and enjoy the quiet, as she pulls me closer against her, and she leans down to nuzzle slowly between my ears like an animal. It makes me want to sigh with exasperation and just... smile and enjoy it, all at once.
Terra surprises me, though: in spite of all her talk about me not-thinking, she asks a question that starts up my mind's gears again: “What are you going to do when Gymbr... stops being a secret, Lord Kvasir? I mean... I don't think he's going to be able to just kind of move in.”
“It's... an interesting question. Other gods cannot have permanent residency in this Heaven, but in a way... Gymbr is part of the Aesir clan.” I say slowly, looking down thoughtfully and rubbing at the underside of my muzzle. “But at the same time he's alien to this place, a foreigner to Valhalla, and in some ways... an invader. For every loophole available, there's also an exclusion.
“I'm just not entirely sure. I've never spent a lot of time considering all the ramifications.” I shake my head slowly, rubbing at my face uneasily. “There would doubtlessly be an inquiry and investigation as well by the senate and the Heavenly Council, and they would likely want to map out and determine the jurisdiction of Gymbr's home, which likely falls under altered reality estate thanks to the vast modifications he's made to it and would require zoning and permits from-”
Terra's jaws settle over my head and silence me, and I glower at the back of her throat before the dragon draws back and looks down at me mildly. “You really need to stop doing that.”
“That's funny, I'm fairly certain I should be the one saying that to you.” I say distastefully, and Terra only smiles amusedly at me before leaning down and pressing nose-to-nose with me, making me wince a bit. “What?”
“I didn't mean to get you thinking so much. I just meant... I thought he'd want to move out of that dungeon, or if you were going to appoint him as a bodyguard or something, or give him some other fancy title.” Terra pauses, then adds: “And I kinda think you keep forgetting that you're not just an administrator, Kvasir. You're the King. You can do anything you want, any time you want. That's one of the perks of being King... I mean, look at the kind of effect your blood magic has on Valhalla itself.”
“It's not 'blood magic,' it's just the effect of my Aesir privilege on Valhalla.” I say moodily, and Terra opens her jaws threateningly. I wince away and push at her maw with one hand, saying crankily: “Fine, call it whatever you like. Our conversations don't have to follow official title and regulation.”
“A very romantic thought, Kvas.” Terra says kindly, and I glower at her before she leans over and firmly nudges me with her muzzle. “You really need to relax more. You really need to stop worrying about the past and the future, and just live in the present; that's what I do. That's why I'm not filled with anger over what happened between us, and I'm not filled with fear over what might happen in the future. It's how I've survived all these years, and I think it would do you a lot of good to learn to do, too.”
I really don't know what to say to that. I'm only able to shift uncomfortably, and then sigh a little as I look at her, embarrassedly rubbing at my features as I mumble: “I... I don't know, Terra. I do envy how... carefree you are at times, but I don't think I could live like that. Someone needs to plan and draft schedules and agendas and deal with legalities and do... all the things no one else wants to do, and that seems to be the role I fit in best...”
Terra leans down and kisses me gently, and it proves to be a far-more effective tool to silence me and stop my mind from running than mouthing my head. Then she pushes me onto my back, and I don't resist her as she crawls over me and gently pins me, smiling down at me with tenderness, with affection in her eyes that I don't feel I deserve.
I feel her body, heavy and metal, yet protective and gentle. Her bone charms jingle, tinkling quietly against her steel scales, as power thrums through her veins and I feel its pulse mixing with the thuds of the heart in her chest.
She settles over me, and I reach up and stroke slowly along her features, and in that juncture of time forget about everything else and just feel thankful that... she and I are together, here and now, and nothing can take these moments away from us.
Entry Ten
Over the past week I've experimented on and off with different enchantments, and again I've been forced to come back to this stupid pony enchantment for recording purposes. It's frustrating. But unfortunately, my entries using other spells have resembled this:
LOCATION: ROOM 2300. CONVERSATION WITH EXCELSIOR. CONVERSATION WITH PIPSQUEAK. EXIT ROOM. LOCATION: CENTRAL HALL. EXIT AREA. LOCATION: ANTERIOR HALL. EXIT AREA. LOCATION: EMPLOYEE OFFICE.
In other words, neither efficient nor very detailed. This narrative format is irksome and I dislike how it reflects upon me, but at the same time I have not found any other effective form of recording these entries. I dislike that these ponies seem fond of this form of irritating scripting. It annoys me. It's too informal and seems to put too much weight on minor incidents.
So for now, I've decided to continue allowing the enchantment to record information for me, which I will then edit when I have the opportunity. On a related subject, I wish to make a few notes regarding the week past:
Antares Mīrus was employed as a messenger to Hel. Seeing as he is in liaison training in any event, this was suitable mission for him. He was accompanied by Trainee Valkyrie Prestige Luster and Terra, and all three performed their duties satisfactorily.
We have begun a major overhaul of laws dealing with demons and Helheim. Pipsqueak is an exemplary employee.
Aria has shown an eighty-eight percent approval rate. She is doing well in her new position and training the new Valkyries well alongside the other coaches.
More Pious have been gathering outside of the Giant's Denial, bringing materials from their home realm to build their Cenobium. I have been informed that they have already completed a church in Looking Glass World, but have yet to begin spreading their so-called 'Holy Word.'
I have made no contact with Gymbr. Following this report, I plan to head to his laboratory and attempt to speak to him.
I will now once more enable the enchantment and let it take over this process for me. I feel that recording my interactions with Gymbr are extremely important.
I sigh and sit back as I lower my hand, the magic taking hold. I'm tempted to open the safe and check the scroll, but... no, I can hear the faint scratching even through the metal across the room. I shift in my seat, and turn my eyes towards the notes I've written over the paper on the table. I'll combine that into the manuscript later.
I pick myself up and shake myself out, and I'm unable to stop myself from looking back at the letter again and smiling wryly. In spite of what I've written, my true feelings on the subjects are... mixed. Aria still hurts, and happy as I am that Antares is working out so far as liaison, I'm... concerned that Hel is only boosting his confidence in an attempt to manipulate him. Perhaps to manipulate us both.
At least the Pious are keeping to themselves, and using their own materials. They seem to be the most stable part of this forming equation, and what I'm least worried about. So I'm glad to leave them alone and out of mind while I instead focus on what has me most concerned at this moment in time: Gymbr, and the results of bonding the soulstone into him.
A large part of me wishes Terra was here... but I know I have to do this alone, and she's working, anyway. It's important that she works, continues to make a positive impression and help with Valhalla's trade business. It'll help when it comes time to review her permanent residency, which is something I've already had to exclude myself from, thanks to my... clear personal bias.
We spend... almost every free hour together. I think on this as I head for the door of my study, and it gives me a faint smile as I jingle the bracelet around my wrist, which feels... comforting these days, instead of weird. I don't realize it at the time, but my hand reaches over to play though the claws and teeth... all little pieces of Terra, made into this lucky charm.
Terra brings me a sense of peace, and helps me feel more positive about things. Reminds me that there's good things in the strangest of places. It's funny to be happy, and strange to find myself thinking of someone at all hours of the day and night when they aren't there beside me. Just like it's funny to be able to lay down next to someone, doing absolutely nothing, and yet feel... accomplished about it at the end of the day.
I head though the halls, still fiddling with my bracelet unconsciously. Employees and soldiers and civilians greet me, and I nod back to them here and there. My reputation has healed somewhat and my approval rating has returned more towards normal. Many of them still think of me as too weak of a negotiator or even incompetent, but I don't let that bother me. Maybe it used to, but these days it feels more like... no matter what happens, I feel like I have a buffer. I can be more confident in myself, and that I'm doing my best.
I reach the secret door in the less-traveled hall, and look back and forth for a moment before reaching up and touching it. It slides open silently, and I quickly step through and head down the staircase as the panels lock back into place behind me. I descend into darkness... and sigh in relief at the sight of blue-fire torches burning brightly and the strange, gemstone lanterns glowing with their own supernatural radiance.
“Kvasir... welcome.” Gymbr's voice is strong, and floats across the hall towards me. I look up in surprise as I stride into the hall... and my eyes widen further at the sight of the creature walking calmly towards me, looking strong, and healthy, and... smiling.
But he has reason to smile: his broken claws are folded back into silver hooves for the first time in as long as I can remember, and his body is restored and his coat gleaming, and no longer sweating rot. His mane and tail are a wreath of black fire with the faintest streaks of blue here and there twisting through it, and his eyes are lucid.
The only thing that catches my eye is the fact that... his flesh has sealed around what now looks almost like a glaring blue eye that takes up almost his entire breast. The dome of visible soulstone glows with dark, terrible light, making the fused flesh around it thrum eerily... but when Gymbr sees where my gaze has been drawn, the creature only laughs quietly and murmurs: “Do not fear it, Kvasir. We are strong. We are whole. We are powerful again...”
Gymbr raises a front hoof that clicks apart into a claw, gesturing calmly with it... and all of reality ripples, a blur of sound and light and... emotion twisting in arcs through the air around it, all made impossibly-tangible. I stare in disbelief at this show of power before the gleaming arcs vanish, and Gymbr smiles and lowers his head calmly. “And we are sane, and yours to command, Lord Kvasir. We were correct: we were an unraveled story, but now we have given ourselves new emphasis, new life... a new plot.”
Gymbr's voice takes on feminine tones, and I'm... surprised that it actually has made what I recognize maybe a little late is a stupid, inelegant pony joke. But I'm relieved, too, as I nod awkwardly and then smooth my dress jacket down, saying quietly: “I... I am admittedly very relieved to see how much your condition has improved, Gymbr. I don't think I have to explain why I may have been concerned before...”
The god-thing studies me, then nods before its claw locks back together in the form of a hoof, and it settles this to the ground as it says softly: “We understand, and we will be doing our best to prove to you that all we desire is to do... the right thing. To be a strong defender of Valhalla. And you, Kvasir, shall command us. We require only one thing more of you.”
I look uneasily at Gymbr, but the creature seems honest as it raises its head, saying quietly: “A final donation of your blood... leave your handprint upon our soulstone core. It shall connect us, and we shall acknowledge you as our master.”
“I... appreciate the sentiment.” I say slowly. It's difficult to think of any other way to phrase it. I don't want to reject this creature's offer, after all, but nor do I desire to be responsible for its actions... Gymbr, after all, is a powerful and dangerous force, and friend or not... no one should be in possession of this much power all at once.
That show of its strength that it had just performed... it reminded me not only why I was so eager to bring Gymbr on as a defender of Valhalla, but also why the creature puts such... fear into my heart. But... I know that I have responsibilities. And like it or not, this being is one of them: I brought this creature into Valhalla, and for better or worse, I can't simply say 'no' because of what it might do in the future, and that by doing this, I'm not only promising to continue to keep its secret... I'm going to open myself up to a brand new series of recriminations from the Valkyries as well.
So I nod slowly, and then I begin to reach into my jacket... but Gymbr only smiles and raises its tall obsidian horn, which glows with a strange, dark radiance before a black knife forms floating in the air in front of me. I reach out and catch this by the handle, and the creature says softly: “We apologize if we seem eager. We... suppose that we are, in a sense, but we are also enjoying... having our powers back. We would like to request a leave from Valhalla for some time, Lord Kvasir, once this final step is completed. We desire to test our powers in a place where we will not put anyone at risk, and will not have to worry about holding back. We desire to see the new extent of our strength, and to ensure that we will not begin to lose cohesion once more.”
I nod slowly, then look down at the knife. It feels solid, and real, and... dangerous, in a word. And to think... the creature simply created this with a thought. A feat of power far beyond my own strength; it's frightening.
I roll my sleeve back, then settle the blade against my arm and pull; with ease, it slices through my flesh, draws my blood, and red floods upwards, as if eager to be released from imprisonment inside my veins. It wets the dark metal and runs down my limb and over the obsidian substance of my hand: with the barest concentration, I guide the flow of my blood over my palm and fingers, leaving a semi-liquid glove of red masking the dark material.
Gymbr smiles at me as I draw the knife away, and I step towards the creature as it raises its head and pushes out its chest. The soulstone core gleams in its chest, and I swallow a little as I reach out and settle my hand over this, breathing slowly as I firmly push against it.
The god closes its emerald eyes, smiling, its breathing halting for a second... and then it sighs and shivers, as if in bliss. I stumble back with a wince, looking down at the handprint of red on the crystalline orb, then I watch as the blood slowly... no, it doesn't dissolve like I think at first. It's drawn inwards, absorbed, as the radiance of that soulstone heart glows all the brighter.
And then there's silence, and I'm left standing with the red-stained knife in one hand and my other arm still trickling blood. I look across at Gymbr as the god gazes back at me, and after a moment the creature smiles and says kindly: “We cannot thank you enough for accepting us, Lord Kvasir. We are glad you do not hold what we did to you in our broken storyline against us.”
I half-force a smile, and then shake my head slowly before clearing my throat and holding up the knife. Gymbr, with only a glance towards it, makes the weapon dissolve into smoke in my hand: this time it didn't even have to summon up any kind of magic. I'm also only vaguely reassured by the way the glow in its core is slowly fading out: it feels less like an acknowledgment as 'master' and more like it... like it took something from me.
But it's too late to do anything either way, and I sigh as I reach up and put two fingers against the thin wound in my arm, then draw them quickly over the mark. The wound seals closed immediately, leaving only a thin red line that quickly heals as the excess blood turns to steam. I flex my hand slowly... and then wince as Gymbr steps closer to me, uncomfortably so.
It looks at me with a smile, and I look nervously back before the creature says softly: “If you so desire, we can give you great power, Lord Kvasir. We have many gifts to give.”
Some part of me is repulsed by this thought. It flinches back like a rabbit scurrying for its burrow at the scent of blood, the crackle of the predator's approach. I shake my head too quickly, maybe shift too much away, and Gymbr looks almost disappointed before it glances away, murmuring: “Well, we cannot blame you. We have much to do to earn trust, we know.”
It stops, then looks up at me thoughtfully before saying kindly: “Well, it is fine. Perhaps others will accept our gifts... perhaps we shall offer strength to Terra, or if she does not require strength, then other tokens of affection. We have much to give... and look forwards to easing back into existence. Rejoining the ponies.”
I look at Gymbr, still feeling uneasy... but perhaps it's only because this thing is so... so strange, and different. It's trying so hard to reach us, but whatever the creature is has left it so far away that it's still communicating with... alien signals, and through unknown means.
I feel... sorry for the creature in that moment, I feel sympathy despite all my fears of being manipulated or used by it, but... with a single claw this thing could probably destroy Valhalla if it wanted to, and here it is, trying to be friendly, trying to connect with me and communicate with me, trying to talk about a future where it... belongs.
As it stands there, not seeming blank but at the same time, somehow disconnected from reality, I clear my throat before prompting carefully: “Rejoining the ponies... you mean, revealing yourself...”
“But only in time.” Gymbr nods and looks up at me, and I nod back: more a supplicant gesture than anything else, trying to show this being I'm not trying to rush it, not trying to push it. I simply want to try and... clarify things, and understand what it has in mind. “It may be difficult to believe, but... we direly wish to once more be known by the ponies. We wish to... save the ponies.”
This strikes me as strange, as I tilt my head and frown slightly, but Gymbr only smiles calmly as it looks up at me, shaking its own and murmuring: “Do not fear. We are not sure of what the future holds, but there are... many uncertainties on the horizon. From allies of Valhalla we are unsure of the qualities of, to Hel's forces.”
“Hel wanted to meet with you.” I decide it's best to just say it, and I study Gymbr's reaction: his eyes narrow slightly, his features shift subtly towards the masculine, he straightens a little. He's not happy about the thought of meeting with Hel, and I actually find myself a little surprised by this reaction, so I decide to press the subject a little. “She was... insistent.”
“Of course she was. She fears our power. We are stronger than her, better than her.” Gymbr says calmly but clearly, raising its head proudly as it steps back. “Hel has no vision. We possess great vision, and do not require the aid of thousands of Archives to rule. A single claw would be enough to keep our universe in its grip, in perfect order. And unlike Hel, we give true rewards to those who earn them. Bestow strength upon those we care for... but Hel cares for no one apart from her own self.”
I look uneasily at Gymbr. The creature has become so... so sharp all of a sudden. But after a moment, it shakes its head quickly and looks up, relaxing and loosening up. “Our apologies. We... forgot ourselves for a moment. We are strong and lucid, but still... very proud, and we do not desire to simply stand by and allow your enemies to frustrate you, Lord Kvasir.”
“Hel is not an enemy. She is... a necessary ally.” I say slowly, and Gymbr shifts slowly, then nods and lowers its head politely.
“We will listen to your wisdom, but... know that Hel is not irreplaceable. Not now that we are rejuvenated.” Gymbr is calm, pleasant, but the implication of what it's saying makes me nervous. I frown a little at the creature, but he only looks back at me for a few moments before smiling. “Do not fear us. We are now yours to command. You have helped shape and give us our purpose.”
Why does that not reassure me? Why does that just make me... even more afraid, for some reason? I study Gymbr for a moment, but the creature is quick to take the initiative, saying politely: “If Hel desires to meet with us, we shall be civil and polite to her so long as she remembers that we are meeting on equal terms. We desire to meet her here, if it is possible.”
“That shouldn't be a problem. I'll send a message to Hel, likely via Antares. These serve as good training missions for him.” I reply, and for a moment, Gymbr seems... is that longing I see in its emerald eyes? Its whole demeanor changes, visibly becomes softer, gentler: not necessarily more feminine, but... more tender, loving, parental.
“Antares Mīrus... our miracle. Our salvation.” Gymbr looks up, then smiles more. “And Innocence... the daughter we most desire to see. We cannot have children, Kvasir... our children will always be nothing but monsters, to be chained, collared, controlled, or killed. How we envy Scrivener Blooms and Luna Brynhild and their beautiful, wonderful Twilight Sparkle...”
Gymbr stops, then murmurs: “We shall never make the mistakes we made with Twilight Shadow again, Lord Kvasir. We did not free her, only destroyed her... as we brought ruin to Celestia, to the rest of our family. Oh, and Scarlet Sage... I long for her, as well. For all our lost friends and family... but we will rebuild them. We will do it right this time, we swear, for we do not wish to destroy but create. We believe we can finally reach that purpose now...”
My nervousness is worsening. I shift uneasily, and touch my bracelet as I automatically slide back from the god... and Gymbr shakes his head, looking up and giving a small laugh. “We apologize. You know our history; we suppose it must be disconcerting for you to hear us speak so but... know that we do not mean we will recreate our family the way we did in the past. We wish to... be accepted by those who already exist. Not transform them into monsters.”
I nod slowly, but I still feel a tickle of unease. Even with how much I want to trust Gymbr, how much I emphasize with him... this conversation is starting to bring up worrisome thoughts. I'm second guessing myself, and wondering more and more about Gymbr's intentions,what his goals are. Family and friends I can understand but... it sounds like there's something beneath his words, like he has something else in mind...
I lose myself in a fog of thought for almost half a minute before I realize that I'm just standing here, playing with my bracelet. I wince and hurriedly drag myself back to reality, but Gymbr is only standing there, studying me in the silence, looking almost... enthralled. It's not a comfortable way to be looked at by such a powerful deity: as I've learned, affection can very quickly sour into pain... or worse.
“We understand that you are worried, but you do not need to be. We are sane and stable, and we have no ulterior motive, no hidden agenda.” Gymbr says softly, and then it bows its head cordially. “We would like to make a request: in a few days, come and visit us again with Terra. We like her. We enjoy her presence. And during that time, we will test our new strengths and weaknesses and report them to you, Lord Kvasir. Perhaps that will assuage your concerns.”
I hear... something eager beneath its cultured, calm words. But all the same, I nod uneasily before straightening and saying as normally as I can manage: “Of course. That sounds like it would be beneficial for all of us.”
“That is our thought as well.” Gymbr smiles at me. That calculating, cunning smile, that has so many different layers to it... but beneath everything, is composed of sharp fangs in a hungry mouth that belongs to a twisted god made from malice and cunning, from love and hate, from pain.
I should never let myself forget that.
I've edited out some useless narration to move directly into my second meeting with Gymbr. I believe that structuring the narrative thus gives the best overall glimpse of Gymbr and his behaviors. The narrative resumes from after I've led Terra down the stairs and into the laboratory.
I'm thankful to see that everything is as brightly lit as it was the last time I was here: I'm still certain it's one of the few tells as to Gymbr's mood and sanity. Terra seems to take reassurance in it as well, but more than that, she seems intent on trying to reassure me, smiling at me an reaching up to gently touch my back. “It's okay, Lord Kvasir. I believe Gymbr.”
“You haven't seen or spoken to Gymbr. You're essentially saying that you believe Gymbr if I believe Gymbr, which is a polite way to avoid praising my ability to judge a person's character or silently denouncing me as an idiot for trusting him.” I mutter in response, and Terra leans over and pushes her cold nose against the side of my neck, making me grimace and shove at her, a faint flush crawling up from my collar. “Not in public.”
“This isn't public.” Terra teases, and I give her a sour look, one of my hands slowly clenching, and Terra winces a bit before she says in a gentler voice: “Lord Kvasir, please calm down. It's going to work out fine. I believe that Gymbr is okay: if he wasn't, there's no reason he would be continuing a charade of servitude, now is there?”
“Terra is correct.” Gymbr says softly as we approach the bottleneck corridor, and Terra smiles supportively as I look up moodily. But the god doesn't approach us: instead, it invites: “Please, join us. We would like to share something with you.”
I don't like the sound of that, but Terra happily barges ahead... yet even though she shoves me aside and tromps happily into what could be an ambush, I know enough about the way she works to be thankful for it. She's put herself between me and Gymbr, and risked setting off whatever trap or ambush could have been ahead.
I follow slowly, and I'm glad to see it was only stress and paranoia... and furthermore, surprised when I see that Gymbr is seated calmly at a round, marble table, resting back in a massive black throne. There are two more chairs on the other side of it: one is comfortable and cushioned with a solid oak frame, the other is a massive half-mat, half beanbag chair. Terra all-but-pounces into the last, and I sigh and shake my head slowly.
She looks very content on the chair that I can't help but think is stupid. My own chair is comfortable and fits my body easily: it doesn't look like much, but it does the job it's designed for... a metaphor for the way I like most things in life.
Gymbr smiles at us knowingly, and as I tent my fingers on the table, Terra nods in gratitude. I study the god: it doesn't take a genius to figure out the creature has created these objects specifically for us. In a subtle way, it's just very clearly demonstrated that it knows us better than we think.
Then the creature simply raises a claw as its horn glows, and the soulstone core in its chest gives its own faint pulse: a moment later, silverware and dishes appear in front of myself and Terra. A wine bottle appears to fill a tall glass, while a dark red substance is poured into a goblet by a floating barrel in front of Terra. Food appears over our plates; fish and meat and thick red gemstones for my demon companion, and salads, a few dumplings, and a grilled cod for me.
Gymbr looks at us, and Terra stares in disbelief over the food as the barrel and bottle silently set themselves down off the table and out of the way. I, meanwhile, pick up my glass and swirl it once, then sip at the wine and close my eyes... before nodding slowly, murmuring: “Aged twenty years. A hint of cinnamon, and... smoke, absorbed through wood. This isn't just Manna.”
“It is more.” Gymbr agrees softly, calmly... proudly. It looks for a moment like a child showing off a new trick, as it gestures easily with both forelimbs out over the table. “The food is real. The table is real. We are able to not merely alter reality, or create simulacrum... we create reality . Our strength is greater than before. We are beyond the limitations of any god. We are strong.”
I shift uneasily, and Terra looks up hesitantly before asking: “But can you create life?”
Gymbr's emerald eyes slowly turn to her, and the creature studies her for a few moments before it bows its head and says softly: “We did not think it would be 'right' to try. We are lucid, and sane. We fear that if we do not limit ourselves, we may fall into old ways.”
There's silence for a few moments, and then I nod slowly and swirl the wine. Real wine. Creating most substances temporarily is a feat of strength. Creating a specific object is even greater. A simulacrum, that eventually fades away or dissolves? Greater still.
But making real food, real drink, real materials? The level of power is staggering. And the implication of such an ability... think about it. To be able to create raw materials whenever you liked, or food wherever, whenever it was needed. It's the answer to a thousand problems... or, is the unfortunate way our world works, it is a disaster waiting to happen.
I shake myself out, then look up as Gymbr says quietly: “Please eat. We may discuss my powers more in a moment... but we will make one suggestion. We must remain a secret for now. We do not wish to start a clamor over what we are capable of, or to face suspicion, fear and hostility until... we are fully in control, and fully comprehend the enormity of our own abilities.”
That also sounds ominous. I grimace a little, looking uneasily at Gymbr before I state slowly: “You're implying, Gymbr, that you don't entirely know your own strength...”
“We expected to be powerful. We did not expect to be so powerful that we must limit ourselves, for fear of what we may become compelled to do otherwise.” Gymbr replies calmly, then it smiles kindly. “But you are our... safeguard, if we may refer to you as such. Your blood is inside us, inside our very heart of hearts. We are keyed to you, and you may control us.”
I look up in surprise at this, then glance down at one of my hands automatically, thinking of the core, of that short, strange ritual, before Terra frowns and leans up, asking slowly: “Kvasir can order you to do... anything... but what's to stop you from...”
“We cannot harm him. We promised. We cannot break our word to Kvasir, any more than we may lie to him. We used old magic, powerful magic, to complete the ritual... in a sense, we have... willingly placed his knife in our heart.” Gymbr reaches up and touches its visible soulstone core, smiling at us. For some reason, though, it sends a chill down my spine instead of making me feel more in control. “It is his knife. It is his hand on the grip. With ease he could twist it, to punish us... to destroy us. We feel this is best.”
I feel nauseated. And more than a little afraid. I swallow a bit at this thought, then shake my head slowly as I carefully put down the cup of wine before my trembling fingers can spill it. I look down at the plate of food in front of me, and then slowly draw my eyes up to Gymbr even as I feel Terra's claw settle on my shoulder, and she leans towards me worriedly.
Gymbr: the most powerful creature I have ever seen, and I'm the one holding the leash. To do my orders, follow my bidding... a creature that I know has a sadomasochistic, literal mindset. That knows me better than I know it, and can likely manipulate me better even if he really was nothing more than a puppet on a string, and I the puppeteer. But also a creature that would destroy an entire world – or worse, and how it sickens me to think that this entity can easily inflict suffering far worse than death – without hesitation if that planet somehow got in the way of completing its objective.
Why does it frighten me? Because this much power does not simply act as a deterrent... it acts as a magnet, drawing in challengers, or people who want it for themselves. Because one wrong order could make Gymbr annihilate an entire city instead of a single enemy. Because I am the one who brought Gymbr to Valhalla in the first place, I am the one who hid him away, I am the one who bargained with Hel for the soulstone core that has apparently made him even more powerful than he already was... and I have this terrible sensation, in the back of my mind, that I am the scapegoat and figurehead Gymbr wants to hide behind, not the true master.
And of course, to truly prove my terrible judgment and inability to handle this situation, there's the fact that I can't help but still want to trust this creature.
I breathe slowly in and out, and Gymbr smiles soothingly, saying quietly: “You have many worries. That is fine, and expected. It is why we suggested we stay secret for now. And do not fear that we will use you to hide behind, Lord Kvasir, or this is some ploy on our part: it may be foolish to try and reassure you through our words alone that we have no designs against you or Valhalla, but... we do not. We no longer desire to play the villain. We wish to be... something different.”
“Let's... take a moment to sit back and think. That might be best for everyone.” Terra says carefully, and then she smiles a little and reaches up, picking up the enormous goblet and sniffing it. She squeezes my shoulder as I sit back, feeling ill, feeling worried, but I can't help but sigh and feel exasperation wash away some of that horrendous unease rippling through me as she toasts: “Well, to... to new friends and better days.”
Gymbr smiles, and when Terra looks at me pointedly, I sigh and pick up my wine glass, then wince when Terra bangs the goblet it into it almost hard enough to knock it out of my grip. I glower at her as I lean back a bit – even as I take comfort from the claw still on my back – and then I sip slowly at my drink as Terra gulps down that strange, thick red substance.
I swirl the wine, then swallow it down... and admit my real fear to myself as I do so. My real fear isn't the responsibility of looking out for Gymbr, but... of myself. Of what I would like to do with such power already, as I shiver a little at the thought of it, then look silently down towards the dish of food. Food, an import-export issue that I could now solve...
And Gymbr means... all our necessary allies are no longer strictly necessary. There's still the issue of numbers, yes, and how many soldiers we need to have in order to efficiently defend the Vale and Castle of Valhalla and deploy in the field, but... perhaps Gymbr can provide even that...
I can be great. I can be successful. I can be powerful, have... anything I wanted. Finally see my plans enacted in full and... yes, it's all for the benefit of the ponies and Odin's projects and the honor of Valhalla, but I'd no longer be left... sitting back in the shadows, the forgotten desk jockey who negotiates instead of fights like a true warrior. Well, finally, even the true warriors would have to acknowledge what I'd done... that I am a worthy heir to Valhalla.
These thoughts are terribly tempting. And I know that these thoughts are also toxic, and mistruths if not flat-out lies, and can and will only lead to pain and suffering. After all, my role in the same story that created Gymbr is little more flattering.
I close my eyes at this thought, shaking myself out uneasily. I realize then, more than I ever have before, how easy it must be to take a single step off the path and tumble down into darkness. How simple it must be to become a villain in everyone else's eyes...
Terra's claw grips into my shoulder, squeezing it slowly, and I look towards her. She smiles at me, supportive, there for me... and I smile faintly back after a moment, just... letting myself be comforted in that moment. Letting her presence wash over me and marveling how... even though we're both seated here, in front of this perhaps all-powerful deity, and yet it's not Gymbr that's the most powerful thing in my vision. It's Terra.
I know that's not rational, and I reflect on how easily the rational mind is overwhelmed by the emotional. And how strange it is to sit in the company of this creature that is so... other , and not shrug off Terra's touch, Terra's affection, and display my own emotional vulnerability. Do I trust Gymbr that much? Or do I just trust that the creature is so strange that it likely cannot understand whatsoever what these emotions mean?
I settle back after a moment, breathing slowly in and out as I straighten up and look down at the food in front of me. The lettuce of my salad is crisp, the cod is so warm it's steaming. I don't feel like eating, but I pick up a fork all the same and squeeze it slowly in my fingers: it feels like real silver. Gymbr can create... can do... anything. Whether I'm in control of the creature or not, it would not be wise to risk offending it, especially at this point.
I look across at the entity, and the god-thing smiles at me and gestures with one hoof: for some reason, the fact he's regained his ability to hide his claws doesn't reassure me. It makes me think of Scrivener Blooms and his own hidden claws, which leads me into wondering silently if one day, a second Gymbr might rise... but I put these thoughts out of mind when the creature soothes: “Eat. You shall feel better, and then we shall show you that we are honest about our desire to serve you. To be a force of good.”
Good... I'm not sure I strictly believe in good and evil. After all, Valthrudnir desired 'good' things, and his aspirations included destroying the known universe to pave the way for his own perfect reality. A reality that... I know would had been only the start to some much-larger process. Our universe is much larger than what we use the word to describe, after all: our ninety nine layers are their own microcosm, and there are... countless other worlds out there, perhaps as protected as our own, perhaps stranger and wilder than our controlled, geocentric Midgard.
Terra eats much more heartily than me: she uses mainly her claws, which even at the moment I find disgusting enough to lean away from her awkwardly, revulsion pushing through the mass of confusion and worries in my mind. Her appetite is ravenous and her lack of manners atrocious, and even Gymbr seems to find the show a little... disconcerting.
When she looks up with gleaming eyes, licking her lips greedily and chewing up the last of one of the red gemstones, Gymbr sighs but creates another plate of food for her without being asked. His features shift subtly, becoming more masculine and moody as he leans away, and I'm surprised that it's this of all things that actually makes the god-entity seem more... relatable.
The food is good, but sits like a weight in my stomach with all the implications of Gymbr's abilities still running around in my head. Terra apparently doesn't have that problem, because in the time it takes me to finish my one plate, she's gobbled down four. I envy her for that, and I'm thankful for the way that in spite of everything she still stays close to me, and she somehow manages to comfort me through all the worries and confusion running around in my mind.
When we're both done, Gymbr's horn glows, and the dirty plates vanish. Destruction is much easier than creation, but all the same, it's impressive. He levitates the barrel and bottle to refill our respective cups, and I study him silently for a few moments before nodding once as the containers float away, picking up my glass and asking: “Why haven't you eaten yourself?”
“We neither need nor desire to.” Gymbr says almost dismissively, shaking its head. “It may strike you as strange, but we desire to be careful, to keep close watch on ourselves. If we begin to give in to every urge, no matter how small at first, we fear that we may collapse into old ways. We wish to avoid that, Lord Kvasir.”
I nod slowly. I think it's being honest. I think it really does want to start over, to serve Valhalla and eventually integrate itself into society... but a specific concern gnaws at me as I glance up and force myself to ask: “Do you want to replace Luna Brynhild and Scrivener Blooms?”
Gymbr chuckles quietly at this, then smiles as it responds: “We do not blame you for believing this. How could we? But we do not, because we are not Luna Brynhild, and nor are we Scrivener Blooms. We are Gymbr.”
It's not the answer I expected, to be honest. I know that even if it had plans to try and replace the beings the entity was made from in the story that first gave it life as a Tulpa, it wouldn't tell the truth... but in the past it's always been proud of its strange heritage, the two beings that form its singular duality.
It helps me believe that it's being honest, though... or at least, it's trying to be. I'm concerned that in the future it might attempt to 'adopt' the children of Luna and Scrivener through fair means or foul, that it might even try and wiggle its way into the lives of other ponies... but for now, the entity itself said it wishes to remain a secret.
This, of course, has its own bevy of concerns. I swirl the wine in my glass as I finally feel some composure, some strength of character returning to me. Terra is picking her teeth beside me with one claw, acting like this is nothing but some informal lunch with an old friend, which is... oddly reassuring in its own way. She has sharp senses, and I know she wouldn't relax if she sensed any kind of hostility from this god-thing.
I begin to open my mouth, to ask my question, but Gymbr surprisingly beats me to it: I don't think he's able to see into my mind, but sometimes I forget how well the creature seems to know me. Which is dangerous and foolish and perhaps a little naïve on my part, and yet all the same... it keeps happening. “We do not desire to create a disturbance before the worlds are ready for us. Before preparations are made and failsafes in place, in case of... problems. We shall be patient. We shall bow to your will and desires, Lord Kvasir.”
I nod slowly, and then ask quietly: “So you're willing to stay here, then, until we can better figure things out? But what if I need your assistance with something... furthermore, Gymbr, do you understand what it means to try and be a force of order, to fight for Valhalla? I cannot risk... using you, for lack of a better term, if you're going to cause collateral damage.”
“We know this. And we desire you to keep this in mind: no matter what we do, no matter what our actions may seem like, we shall always do what is in Valhalla's best interests. We shall protect you and your legacy, Lord Kvasir. We make this oath.” Gymbr says softly, and I look across at the creature with... how can it reassure me and yet just make me all the more worried at the same time? And why do I get the feeling that it's sensing something, that there's something specific it's trying to warn me about?
All the same, I just nod again, then glance at Terra. She's studying the creature intently, looking slowly over Gymbr before she asks curiously: “What do you think of the new alliance with Helheim, then? I mean, we might not need your power with the Archives backing us, and Hel letting us access them freely. Especially because, you know, we've got all this help from the Pious and others, too.”
Gymbr looks ruffled at this, and I admire Terra's courage in poking at this creature so glibly. Even if I do have ultimate power over the god-thing, I don't think I could ever bring myself to purposefully irritate it.
The entity is quick to catch itself and calm itself down, though, closing its eyes for a moment before looking up as the features seem to... ripple again, take on a strange, feminine hardness. It looks at us for a few moments, then answers softly: “All of them may betray you, though. We shall never betray you. We shall always do what must be done to protect Valhalla. To protect the layers. To protect this universe... that is our new, self-given goal.”
Protect the universe... it's a little chilling. I don't even know why it strikes me as almost menacing... no, I do. How many 'protectors' are really tyrants? How many fortresses are only cages? And does Gymbr know the difference?
I shake my head slowly, but that's another worry for another time. Better for now to focus on the present, and what I can work out with Gymbr.
Terra looks at me pointedly, and I give her a mild look in return before I turn my eyes back towards Gymbr. The creature only smiles in response, and it takes me gesturing to it to speak for it to finally say quietly: “Do not fear, Lord Kvasir. You may request anything of us that you like. And we shall bow to your words on this matter, as we shall in all matters.”
“Reassuring.” I say dryly: it's not. There's a subtle hint of patronization or mockery in the creature's voice... maybe both. Or maybe that's just my imagination, I don't know. “I'm glad for your goals, Gymbr, and I hope that you can live up to them. And while I recognize that there are many reasons you might have to conceal your presence, I'm curious as to which is the most important to you. Which you consider is the greatest reason for you to remain hidden.”
Gymbr looks at me thoughtfully for a few moments, and then it suddenly smiles at me, which makes me feel... awkward. Uncomfortable. “We believe the greatest reason we have to remain hidden for now is because those who made us will be the most suspicious of us. We fear that they may try and turn you against us, barring a demonstration of your control over us. And you seem very hesitant to assert your power over ourselves, Lord Kvasir.”
“Well, what should I do?” I ask moodily, fully aware of the irony of asking my self-proclaimed servant exactly what I should order it to do. “Should I make you create more food? File tax forms? Dance? All these things seem like particularly wasteful uses of your range of abilities.”
“Then we would ask you to have us do something that is not wasteful of our abilities.” Gymbr replies with a strange eloquence. I scowl a little at the creature, and Terra coughs before I give her a soul look as well when I realize that she's trying to suppress a grin.
Part of me hates her at times like this. Part of me envies her ability to take even things like this in such stride. All of me knows that I need her, and now more than I ever have before. I sigh quietly, then turn my attention once more to the god-thing, saying carefully: “I'll consider the ramifications of your powers and come back to you with an answer once I have found something suiting for your range of talents.”
Except what could possibly be anything but trivial to a god that can create reality, and to an extent that even it seems to yet have to fully comprehend? I shake my head a little as Gymbr studies me with... interest, I think. Being studied by Gymbr with curiosity makes me feel like I'm an ant being studied with curiosity by a terror from the Void. It is not a reassuring feeling.
After a moment, however, Gymbr shows a surprising amount of diplomacy by broaching a subject I hadn't actually expected it to bring up, despite how often it's led with the promise to in former conversation: “Then in the meantime, allow us to share with you our vulnerabilities, if you would like. We have ascertained at least one serious weakness that we still possess.”
I nod slowly, then gesture for it to go on as I pick up my glass in my other hand. Take a sip of the wine, and then glance down at the cup as I swirl the liquid in my mouth; I feel the cool liquid tickle around my teeth, its smoky aftertaste saturating my tongue. I still can't get over the fact that this isn't wine that's been aged for years and prepared for a special occasion: this is a mass of particles assembled by the god-entity in a matter of seconds at the moment it was desired.
We are in the presence of a true creator, conversing with a thing beyond the actualized concept of 'god,' eating food it has made for us from thin air, drinking liquid it created from the same.... and now it wants to calmly confess how we can perhaps... kill it.
I can't lie and say that I'm not glad for it. The information, after all, will be recorded in my scrolls. Assuming that they're not tampered with, this crucial information will be passed on if something happens tome before I can do so myself, along with the log of this entire surreal experience, from which better minds than mine might be able to get a glimpse of Gymbr's motives, personality, whatever tells or secrets are hidden in his words and actions.
“Antimagic harms us badly. Weakens us. Our soulstone core, unfortunately, acts as a much greater receptor for such vibrations and energies than our horn.” Gymbr says quietly, and I frown and lean forwards intently. It's not the greatest news, perhaps, but it is an important tool, and one that even I can wield against it... albeit carefully.
The issue is that as a homunculus, antimagic tends to have excruciatingly painful effects on myself as well. I'm not simply a pasted-together god, after all, I'm what you could call a 'magical construct' by my strictest definition. Not a term I'm precisely eager to apply to myself, of course, but one that's true all the same.
A vulnerability that we both share... it brings with it a ludicrous sense of kinship to this deity. I shake myself quickly out, then force myself to focus only on the dry facts as the creature continues in a calm voice: “It is so far the only thing that we know of capable of truly devastating us... but we know that there may be other holes in our defenses as well. We are not impenetrable, and we now wear our heart bare upon our own breast.”
“Will you be armoring or protecting that? I suspect pure physical trauma to that area might cause you more than a little distress.” I say, mostly to judge the creature's reaction: the point is a rather obvious one, after all.
But Gymbr only smiles and shakes its head slowly, replying in soft tones: “We shall not, unless it is absolutely necessary. We have learned that our soulstone core can also be harnessed for great feats of power... and we recognize that the idea of having such an open vulnerability somehow soothes you, does it not?”
I don't reply to this. I stay silent, shifting to sit back before Terra asks uneasily: “But what if you had to fight... say... someone like Hel?”
“Hel is no match for us.” Gymbr says softly, but with such terrible confidence, such dangerous pride... and worst of all, there's not a trace of arrogance in its tone. It believes itself to be as powerful, more powerful than Hel... and both Terra and I are forced to recognize that this isn't just bravado. This is an undeniable truth, and Gymbr knows it.
There's silence, silence that that spirals out into minutes, because neither Terra nor I know how to reply, and Gymbr has said everything that he needs to say.
Entry Eleven
I have removed from the record several months' worth of pages and documentation. Most of it is filled with complaining on the same subjects, pointless repetition, and information about my relationship with Terra that has no bearing on the purpose of this narrative. I shall summarize in short the important parts:
Antares Mīrus has completed basic liaison training and Sleipnir has passed on his title and status to the younger stallion. Antares had also decided he would serve in this position best by working to imitate his mother's form of diplomacy. This severely irritates and frustrates me; more so because it has proven effective during the few missions I have sent him on thus far. Obnoxiousness is the most childish debate technique, whether it is effective or not.
Terra is my 'official mistress.' She was named as a Lady of Valhalla by the council against my express orders after gaining citizenship in Heaven.
Aria has been promoted to 2nd Division Commander for her exemplary skills and remains a highly-valued coach and leader of the new Valkyries. Terra has warned me that it is likely anger at me driving my former assistant, and that I should avoid her. I am uncertain whether or not Terra is joking on this subject.
Gymbr remains mostly in solitude. He has developed a strange affectation for throwing dinner parties for myself and Terra; perhaps this is a method of trying to establish an amicable relationship and maintain some form of personable contact, although I remain unsure as to his motives.
Brynhild, against all laws and regulations set forth by Valhalla, took her family on a quote-unquote 'vacation' to Layer Thirty-Four, which she has visited several times before. Upon her return, I sent a message demanding an explanation: Antares Mīrus delivered a message essentially saying that she was visiting friend and wished to introduce her child Innocence to the Princess Luna of that layer, known by the colloquial term 'Little Luna.'
I docked two weeks' pay from Antares and sanctioned Brynhild, noting that she swore an oath to help maintain the layers and follow the orders and laws of Valhalla. Brynhild, in apparent protest, mailed a package to me, the contents of which I will not describe in this record. I have since given up all hope of exercising even a modicum of control over her family and strongly regret making Antares Mīrus acting liaison.
The Pious have completed their Cenobium. As anticipated, they have attempted to ward it to prevent scrying, but it has had minimal effect thanks to the rampant energies of Asgard. The Pious have also begun spreading their Holy Word on the layers where their churches have been established, to very minor effect. Their unnatural appearance does not at all help their cause.
I will now allow the narrative to resume. On a final note, an appendix will be attached that will allow the reference of specific dates to build a distinct frame of time and better establish the chronology of events, allowing a more detailed cross-referencing of information and details should it become necessary in the future.
I sigh quietly as I stretch slowly out, grimacing a bit. Excelsior is still jotting notes, and the councilors are droning on. I don't know why, but I'm having trouble paying attention: yes, we're currently dealing with very small fiscal matters, such as petty cash regulation and a few other minor taxation issues, but usually I'm able to dredge up some minor interest and at least keep myself engaged to the subject.
Not today, though. I sit here, playing absently with my bone cufflinks – Terra made them for me, and they're slightly more professional than the bone and tooth bracelet – and just trying to make the time magically pass. Yet at the same time I'm far from anxious to be done work: Terra has made me promise we would go on a short 'vacation.' I'm loathe to think that she got this idea from Brynhild's little foray into a different layer.
I shake my head moodily: this strikes me, in a way, as encouraging Brynhild's behavior in the future. Or worse, acknowledging and even approving of it. I do not want to give any of Brynhild's ideas any positive reinforcement, no matter what they might be or what they might lead to. She has enough encouragement as it is from her family and friends.
The councilor finishes his speech, and I look up as all eyes turn towards me. I shift uncomfortably, awkwardly rubbing at my bare throat: even after all these months, I'm still not used to not wearing a tie. I realize they're waiting for some approval or argument, and... I'm not even sure what we were just talking about.
This is Terra's fault. I've never been so unprofessional before, or inattentive. She's a bad influence on me, and I know it, and she knows it, and yet... she's the only thing that can ever make me relax anymore, too.
I clear my throat as I sit up, then ask calmly: “And how many times did you review your assessment of the situation?”
The councilor fidgets awkwardly at this, then he says finally: “Well, only once, but it's a minor fiscal change, only a one percent increase to budget allowances-”
“Globally?” I frown at this, and the councilor shifts uncomfortably, which makes me think... “No, I see. One percent increase in minor worker allowances would set a precedent to allow a minor increase in other business funding, which I'm guessing would be framed by matter of importance. I motion to deny the proposal and move to have this agenda issue reopened next meeting. And any proposal, no matter how innocuous, that might serve as a stepping stone to allowing the increase of cash flow to your supporters or yourselves will be firmly and roundly blocked. Understood?”
There's mumbles around the table, and I sigh and shake my head slowly, reaching up to rub at my forehead moodily. I'm lucky I caught that. It annoys me that even in Heaven, these politicians are trying to operate by greed and wealth. That every single time we try and help the lower class, it ends up being some shadow play actually designed to benefit the upper echelon and those with status.
I glance around the table. The council looks chastened: lately, they've been trying to take advantage of my lack of focus, and it's irritated me. I'm loathe to think of what the two days I'm to be away are going to be like, but I've already made it clear that the council will not present any new bills or laws, and Excelsior will be acting as my proxy. He may be cripplingly shy, but he's far more afraid of me than he is of anyone on the council.
“If there is no other business...” I look around the table. No one quite dares to speak up or step forwards. “Then council is dismissed, to reconvene in three days' time. And as a gentle reminder, no new laws or bills will be considered or passed while I am away for two of those days.”
There's a few awkward mumbles, and I nod once before standing and moodily watching as the other councilors stand and leave. Excelsior and Pipsqueak are both looking at me, but I ignore them pointedly until the council has left the meeting room, and then I finally sigh and turn my eyes towards Excelsior, who is staring at me pleadingly overtop his clipboard. “You can handle two days.”
Excelsior shakes his head violently, and Pipsqueak clears his throat before saying awkwardly: “Not to step on any hooves, sir, not to be a bother but... perhaps you should consider – and just consider, sir! – the proposal that we contact Valkyrie Freya and have her manage things while you're away. After all, there are still things to be ratified and collections to be overseen and administrative details to be dealt with, Lord Kvasir...”
“And that is what you two are here for.” I say moodily, glancing between Pipsqueak and Excelsior. They trade looks past me, then both wince and quail at the glare I give the two aides. “Valhalla will not collapse in two days' time. You can both handle delegating duties and delaying any larger issues.”
I'm actually repeating arguments that Terra has used on me. It seems a little less effective on the two aides, but this is likely because I am not a large, demonic dragon, and or do I have the habit of attempting to swallow their heads when disagreed with. Irritated as the two of them might make me at times. It almost makes me wish for Aria, who was always more direct, more ambitious, more... capable of getting the job done.
I shake my head slowly out. That sounds worse than intended, and it's unfair to Excelsior especially: he's always been my assistant and always been successful with work. I turn a calmer look to him, and when the unicorn looks up at me uneasily, I say as gently as I can manage: “You can handle this task. I have every confidence in you.”
Excelsior sighs, shifts, mumbles... then finally lowers his clipboard and nods awkwardly to me, giving a faint, strained smile. I nod to him, feeling more relieved than I want to admit, before I turn my eyes to Pipsqueak as he looks worriedly up at me. “Your only job is to carry messages for Excelsior and to sign and send out prewritten memos. Considering that you have acted according to my expectations so far, I am sure that you can handle basic mail duties.”
Pipsqueak salutes awkwardly, but his smile – while nervous – is still genuine, and I nod to him before shaking my head out and muttering, more for my sake than theirs: “Valhalla is not going to fall apart. It's only two days, that's all. Two days is not enough time for the title of a bill to be decided on with our legislative system, let alone an entire plane of reality to collapse.”
“You're right, sir! We'll be fine.” Pipsqueak says in an optimistic voice, bouncing a little and nodding firmly, and... why doesn't that reassure me? Why is it, if anything, that just creates an even worse sinking feeling in my gut?
Excelsior studies me uneasily, but I shake my head and quickly push away from the table, deciding to leave before I have to reassure them further or they give me any more reason to doubt that Valhalla will actually survive without me.
I head quickly out into the corridor, shaking my head once to try and clear it. I feel... well... cranky, I suppose is the best word for it. I dislike the idea of leaving Valhalla, especially at the mercy of politicians like the Heavenly Council.
Maybe that's a little harsh, considering I wasted so much of today's meeting daydreaming like that idiot Sleipnir would. Maybe it's just that I loathe the idea of being completely out of contact and control. I don't like feeling like I'm leaving my property in the sometimes-fumbling hands of others. And of course, there's also the fact that I am a little politically-minded myself.
I walk down the corridor, trying not to think too heavily on this subject. I really have no desire to psychoanalyze myself: I don't care why or how I function, nor how I've been affected by my past experiences with Valthrudnir and the other figures who have influenced my view of the world; I only care that I do continue to function first and foremost. Productivity, responsibility, dependability, modality and lastly appearance, in that order.
I brush at myself absently, then look up as I realize I've already reached a central corridor before sighing as I see Terra trundling towards me. She's bouncing eagerly along on her claws, grinning at me like an excited child, and the moment we reach each other she leans forwards and immediately licks my face like a sloppy dog. I groan in irritation. “Not in public.”
“Oh, don't be like that, Kvas. Everyone knows anyway.” She huffs at me, and I scowl back at her grouchily, but she and I both know this is more posturing than anything else. A minor attempt at me keeping the little dignity I have left.
Then she reaches up and musses up my mane before grabbing my horn and using it to shake my head briskly. I only continue to look at her sourly, refusing to flinch, but she barely seems to notice as she chirps happily: “But now we get to go and spend a weekend together!”
“Two consecutive days are not automatically a weekend. Especially when they are not a weekend.” I retort, and Terra replies by just leaning down and staring at me, until I finally sigh and roll my eyes. “Let's please just get this over with. We need to finish packing, and then go. The sooner, the better.”
“That's the spirit!” Terra declares positively, looking at me brightly.
“The sooner we're gone, the sooner I can get back.” I mutter, and Terra grumbles and grabs at me, but I lean quickly out of her reach. “Stop that.”
“If you paid as much attention to me as you did at work, I'd be a wreck every single night, nothing but melted metal from all the sex we'd be having.” Terra complains, and I roll my eyes again as we automatically fall in step with each other, heading towards what are now our shared quarters.
She leans down and shoves her muzzle childishly into me, and I absently push her head back, letting my hand stroke gently over the slope of her skull in an affectionate gesture even as I keep my eyes forwards. It's a disguised motion, but Terra smiles happily at it all the same, as if I'd shared one of her awkward, uncomfortable public affections instead of hiding my touch in a push.
We reach our room with only a little more shoving at each other. I note that Terra has almost finished packing, but left enough room in the travel bag for me to add a few personal items.
I nod to her to show my gratitude, then turn towards the dresser... and frown in surprise at the wooden box on it before I sigh and say mildly: “Terra, you know that I have one rule about this one dresser, and that's it. Please keep the top of this clear for my things...”
But Terra is looking at me with excitement, her eyes bright and expectant. I frown further at her, then my eyes draw back towards the wooden box, reaching a hand out to touch it hesitantly as I look down at the smooth top surface.... and realize my name is carved into it in an ancient runic script, long forgotten by most demons, by most gods even... but what I first learned to read and write in. A fact about me that... only Terra knows.
My fingers slid down, grip the edge of the box, and open it; inside, resting on a soft cushion, there's a gorgeous necklace that's made from ivory teeth and claws and gleaming platinum beads...
I study it, then look up at Terra in disbelief, and she smiles at me warmly before saying softly: “I wanted to finish off your outfit, Lord Kvasir. You seem to need to wear something around that neck of yours, even if it's just so your silly fingers have something to play with. So I put a little something together for you, teeth and claws and folded and shaped scales. I hope it's okay.”
I don't know what to say. It touches me, more than I want to admit. I reach down, stroking silently over the artifact, licking my lips a little before I clear my throat and murmur: “Terra... thank you.”
I still remember how stupid I thought her first gift to me was. I remember how it felt awkward, how it seemed almost barbaric... and now, just the thought that Terra made this necklace for me...
She has changed me. Made me a better person, helped me find myself, find some... more peaceful part of myself, that doesn't concern itself as much with what other people think. That is able to be a little selfish, but in the best of ways; that is able to look out and actually factor in emotions instead of just going by logic and numbers, important as I know that is in my line of work.
Terra only smiles and shrugs, then she leans forwards, saying eagerly: “Well, put it on, put it on! It should still carry my energy, I wanna see how well it works with you.”
This makes me feel less confident. I've learned that in Terra's culture, these bone objects are a way of showing... affection, importance, and sort of... a territorial marker as well. Not property wise, but more like what a ring serves to certain cultures and peoples. Even if that thought also made me feel... a little bit awkward. I've also learned that these objects, when they're made with a dragon's own claws and teeth – and scales, in this case, I suppose – can be enchanted with ease to be permanent attachments, or... for other purposes.
I look mildly at Terra, and she sighs and looks back, saying grumpily: “Oh come on, Kvas. It was one little... cultural error last time. Besides, you weren't that grossed out.”
I grimace a bit: a few weeks ago Terra decided to share dinner with me. The food was strange but edible... until I found out the drinks were made from strained and spiced blood, and the food itself was comprised of the organs of intelligent demons she had hunted down while in Helheim and killed for our meal, then carefully prepared. Terra may be cute, and childish, and is plenty friendly and obeys Valhalla's laws and etiquette... but she also is both a demon and a dragon. And not a dragon who lived in a pony-dominated Equestria, but a much-rougher country in a layer of Midgard that has long collapsed since her lifetime.
It's easy to forget, but she and I both have our quirks, and our... pasts. But I do trust her, and I... I care very deeply about her. So finally, I sigh, and I grumble a little as I slip the necklace on, then look down at it as it sizzles quietly with energy, the teeth in particular glowing: but from the research I've done and what Terra has shared with me, her species of dragon has teeth that can easily carry a powerful charge of magical energy, part of what allows them to bite through even the hardest of metals. It also means that once removed, they're very easy to enchant in a wide variety of ways.
The glow settles, but I can still feel the magic. I frown after a moment as I raise a hand, feeling it seem to respond to me, and I flick my fingers a few times as I concentrate on the magic energies. The necklace jumps a little as energy crackles over it, and Terra giggles quietly before she says kindly: “It's really nothing major, Kvasir, honestly. It's a beacon charm, so I always know where you are.”
“Wonderful.” I mutter. The part that almost bothers me is that... it actually is. For some reason, it really means a lot to me that Terra apparently wants to be able to know where I am at all times. I glance up at her as she smiles at me brightly, and then I sigh quietly as I reach up and play slowly along the necklace before mumbling finally: “I... appreciate it.”
“Good.” Terra strides over to me and leans down, and I meet her for a gentle kiss. It only lasts a few moments, but it reassures me, it clears my mind, it makes me feel... better. When she steps back, I look up at her, still awkwardly playing with the necklace, and she smiles at me softly. “Now come on, Kvasir. I really am eager to get out of here. I've been looking forwards more than I can begin to say to having just some me-and-you time, you know.”
I sigh and nod a little, then turn back around and open the top drawer of my dresser to pull out a few personal items: a comb, a toothbrush, some other odds and ends. Many of Valhalla's residents may be content with stained teeth and messy hair and... everything else... but I am not one of them. I might not trust appearances, but I am responsible when it comes to my own hygiene and health. “It... it will be nice. But I wish we could at least stay in Asgard.”
“No, no, no! I want to spend some time on Midgard, and you said we could, Kvasir!” Terra complains. I shift grouchily, and then the dragon adds: “And we'll take one of your journals so you can keep up your silly log thing, and... you know, you really don't need to bring that stuff. You can't get cavities and I'm pretty sure your mane is always perfect. You're like a girl like that.”
I scowl at her as I place my things carefully in the bag, after double-checking that they're all safely secured inside their individual cases. “I don't like the idea of food rotting between my teeth. Nor do I enjoy having filth in my mane. I take care of myself.”
“You take too much care of yourself. Also, you're a shapeshifter. I still say you should just be a dragon like me. That would get you respect, and your teeth would always be shiny, and you'd have no hair.” Terra suggests brightly, and I sigh as I close up the travel bag, shaking my head.
“I am not interested in getting respect simply by magically making myself large and scary. I desire them to respect me for my mind, and my ideas. And this form is... suiting enough for those purposes.” I gesture at myself absently. “I am also supposed to represent what is in the best interests of the majority of Midgard. The majority of Midgard is comprised of equine species, the most well-known of which are the three races of so-called pony. Therefore...”
Terra groans and rolls her eyes, then she leans forwards and opens her mouth wide, but I quickly draw my head back before she can clamp her jaws over it. So instead her teeth only click loudly together in thin air, and she huffs before saying flatly: “You just like to complain. And primp. And preen. I can preen too, you know.”
“Yes, you can polish yourself. You're made of metal.” I say distastefully, and Terra grumbles. We glower at each other, and then I glance upwards and grimace a bit as I mutter: “I should head up to my office and turn my enchantment off.”
“No, no, you should leave it on. For all you know, it could keep recording while we're gone.” Terra says pointedly, and I give her a flat look, but she only shakes her head vehemently. “Well, you don't know either! And if it's relay magic, or psychic-based or something, maybe it'll... stop writing once you leave this plane, but the moment you return, it'll fully write out the events of everything that happened or something.”
I pause and think about this for a moment. Technically she's correct, but I feel a stubborn need to not admit that. Yet at the same time I dislike lying to Terra, so I move on with my next best option of simply... moving on. “We should get going, either way. The more time we spend here, the more likely it is that something is going to happen to disrupt our plans. I know neither of us want to risk having to stay behind in Valhalla, after all.”
“Well, you kind of do. Or did. Now you're just trying not to admit that I'm smarter than you, that's all.” Terra says smugly, and I sigh tiredly before picking up the travel bag and moodily throwing it over my shoulder, and then I grimace when Terra firmly bites the back of my collar and tosses me over her shoulder onto her back, her metallic scales automatically shifting so they form into a comfortable kind of seat for me. “But yay, trip!”
“Yay, trip.” I repeat dryly, and then I sigh and rub slowly at my forehead with one hand, muttering: “I really hope this is worth it, Terra, and that we don't attract the attention or ire of whatever races dwell in the layer we're heading to.”
“Oh, shush. We're going to be fine. We won't even be in Equestria, we'll be vacationing on one of the oceanic islands.” Terra replies quickly, and I sigh a little again as the dragon turns and heads for the door, before I wince and drop low against her as she squeezes through the double doors, narrowly avoiding getting knocked off thanks to the size and less-than-careful movements of the dragon.
She happily bounces through the halls, and I sit up a bit, shifting to get more comfortable as I give flat looks to anyone stupid enough to stop and stare at us. Most of those around Valhalla know to just keep moving, though, and admittedly this has become a more and more common sight lately. Although I'm still far from fond of Terra's habit of carrying me around on her back.
Terra at least knows where to go... but she does have the advantage of honed hunting instincts mixed with long-developed tracking skills, and the fact that her job as an import-export officer also means she's very often monitoring or actively using civilian and-slash-or merchant portals. She's also worked very hard to memorize Valhalla's entire layout over the years she's been here, and done a surprisingly good job of it: I just wish that she didn't seem to need to constant talk or hum while walking.
I'm paying attention, but not as much to the subject and her words as to what she's saying beneath it. She likes to talk, but I've learned that beneath everything, there's a secondary message: that the real conversation happens beneath her barrage of words on... bunnies, or rocks, or her new favorite thing. Right now, for example, she's talking about her culture... but while most of it is repetition on the same things she's told me about her tribe over and over again, there's... a distinct subtext.
I understand after a moment, and lower my head a little, reaching forwards and quietly touching the back of her skull. She quiets, then smiles over her shoulder at me, and our eyes meet for a moment as her pace slows through the hall before I lean down and say quietly: “I do care about you, and I'm not ashamed of the fact that you are a demon or a tribal dragon. I just... that's hard for me. To say or to think about, or to... show.”
“I don't blame you. I don't. I just get... I'm a hoarder, like most dragons. You know that.” Terra replies quietly, smiling and blushing as she looks ahead, turning down a wide hallway and adding in an almost-embarrassed voice: “And I don't... think of myself as owning you, of course, I know that... well, you know I want you to be honest, and I want you and me to be... you and me, but I know really I have no real say in whether or not you, you know...”
“You do have a say. I remember what we agreed on but I have... your title is mistress, but you're more than that to me, even if there's all these laws and rules regarding our kind of relationship and who the King of Valhalla is supposed to... pursue. I... my interest is in you.” I say gently, and Terra blushes deeply as she looks up with a warm smile over her shoulder, before I clear my throat and mutter: “We should talk about this in private, though. Please watch where you're going.”
“Oh, it's fine, I'm not going to-” And then I grimace as Terra accidentally steps on a Nibelung, squashing the warrior with a yelp, and she hurriedly leaps off him and manages out an apology before rushing onwards... and with her great size and the sudden burst of speed, knocking flat several more unfortunates in her way, making me sigh tiredly from atop her and drop my head forwards into one hand. I'm suddenly very glad that we'll be gone and out of contact for the next two days.
Terra hurries onwards until she reaches the Waystation: a massive, restricted-access transit hub on one of the sublevels of the Castle. There are at least twenty-five different portal rings, all of them made by the hands of experienced Nibelung Architects or gods, all of them permanent fixtures and hooked into their own individual power sources to ensure that even if there's a massive disruption of magic or energy through Valhalla or Asgard, the portals will still function enough to either evacuate or bring in reinforcements.
Some of these portals connect to other permanent portal structures, like interdimensional bridges: some of these portals are more like rails on a switch, capable of rotating between several different points. And a rare few that are under special guard are capable of creating a temporary bridge to any location, provided that a person possesses the right knowledge and coordinates.
Terra is heading for one of these rarest portals now, on the lowest ring of the Waystation: we pass both patrolling guards and enormous sentry golems, neither of which pay us any attention. We may be a strange sight, but it's not like I can say either of us aren't well known.
We reach the foyer in front of the portal I scheduled us to travel out from in good time, only a little early. I slip off Terra's back, absently shouldering the bag and gesturing irritably at one of the employees: a divine being, bipedal, pale skin and large dark eyes. Similar to a race from another world, but a little more durable. They make good workers for more delicate operations around Valhalla.
“Sorry Lord Kvasir, we're a little behind. There was a problem while we were getting ready.” he apologizes, and I frown slightly at this even as I gesture that it's alright. “Just a minor power surge as we were testing the portal.”
“Another one?” It strikes me as a little odd. Over the past few years, we've been experiencing strange power surges now and then, mostly from the larger and more powerful portals. I've been told it's some kind of reactionary effect from Asgard's energies, but so far no explanation has actually been able to... explain it. No tampering, modifying, or technical adjustments have done anything to prevent the surges, and the minor damages they cause the portals when they occur.
“Yes, sir. Your coordinates were lost, although the good news is that the planar map wasn't scrambled.” the angel says quickly with a smile and a salute, and I nod meditatively. I like that at least some of these divine beings we've offered sanctuary to are actually appreciative and thankful of the fact that they have a place to stay and work.
He hurries away after a moment back towards the gates that seal off the portal room, and I sigh before turning my eyes towards Terra, as she only shrugs and smiles. “Hey, we'll still probably be out of here on time, Lord Kvasir. That's a lot better than usual.”
I nod grudgingly, shifting the carry-bag against my back before I turn my eyes back towards the gates, muttering: “True. But it's a concern-”
“It's a tic. Seriously, Kvas, you're dealing with massive, temperamental time-space technology in a place charged and rife with magic energies.” Terra says pointedly, and I grumble and nod moodily before the demon adds: “And these were made from designs ancient even by Nibelung standards, right? Of course they're not entirely stable, who knows how much they had to fiddle with and guess at while putting them together?”
“I don't like the thought of that. I'd rather not hear that my portals are made with random parts and guesswork.” I say moodily, but Terra only laughs and shakes her head, looking down at me with entertainment.
“Everything starts as guesswork, though. What you do, what I do... facts come from guesswork. Even your boring god-stuff started as guesswork.” she argues, and I feel this urge to smack her. I resist, mostly because I know it'll just make her giggle and I'll probably hurt my hand with her being a giant metal dragon and all.
Thankfully we're spared further argument as the gates sealing off the portal room rumble their way slowly open. I look up and note that Nibelung and a few angels are finishing the last of the adjustments around the circular frame at the back of the half-dome shaped area, while another is setting dials at the wide, circular control panel.
Everything looks secure: sometimes the power surges cause metal panels to pop open or wires to come loose or, as happened with one particularly-nasty incident, the frame to distort. But the Nibelung Architects have been carefully recalibrating and fortifying the portals, and they're much stronger now than they used to be. Apparently adjusting both the frames and their frequency of response has been cutting down on the surges, and it's true: they've become much less and less noticeable. Perhaps now are only minor inconveniences, which gives me some hope that in the future, we won't have to worry about the fluxes at all.
Terra and I stride forwards, and we're met by an Architect in flowing robes. The dwarf bows to us, putting his clawed hands together, the shorn-down tips of the tusks sticking out of his wolfish muzzle covered by small silver caps. “Lord Kvasir, Lady Terra. The portal is just about recalibrated and ready for travel use. We just have to reprogram the planar map and coordinates, and the portal will be back in full working order.”
I nod at this with relief, then look up and study the Architect, paging through my mental library of names before saying finally: “Thank you, Nile. Do you have any further information about the energy pulse that occurred?”
Nile shakes his head, the Architect replying after a moment: “None, I am afraid. I am still unsure as to the source, but I will consult my brethren from the Academy, and we shall pool our resources again. Perhaps you should consider speaking to Valhalla's allies when you return: they may know more about this with their own travels. Do not forget that we are... in a process of rediscovery.”
I nod again, then sigh and look mildly at Terra when she steps forwards and noses at me like a... well, a riding horse is the first thing that comes to mind, but thanks to these insipid ponies, it seems like every metaphor I go to has something to do with the equine species. I absently push at her, then look ahead at the portal as it glows with energy.
The workers have apparently finished their repairs on it, and I mentally calculate the time before nodding once. We might be able to stay on schedule after all... even if I'm well aware that any pretense of an agenda is going to fall apart the moment we're through the portal, but for now pretending that things are all set and rulered helps to settle my nerves.
Terra looks happy, though, and right now, that's the most important thing to me. I can almost feel her excitement, and even though I know I'm probably going to regret the next two days, all the same I feel like I'll enjoy them, too. As long as I get to spend them with her.
This edit is to note that the moment we began to approach the portal, the enchantment was distorted, then dispelled. I have removed several paragraphs of nonsense gibberish, and the narrative will resume one day after returning from my vacation. No relevant events occurred while Terra and I were away from Valhalla.
I close my eyes as I rub slowly at my features, then shake myself out, making my necklace jingle quietly around my neck. I'm still a little surprised Valhalla did so well without me: it's both reassuring and leaves me feeling... well... somewhat like a parent who's just realized his child doesn't need him anymore. It... stings, in a strange way.
I shake myself out, then pick myself up and step around my chair, pushing it into my desk and leaning over it. My office is neat and tidy, I've completed all the forms that were in my inbox, the meeting with the council went smoothly and I know that I should be feeling good, or at least accomplished. But for some reason I don't.
Maybe it's just because I have this... feeling in my gut. Maybe it's because I can't help but think that somehow... this is all leading up to something terrible happening, that everything is going to go into a decline. I want to lay it at Gymbr's claws, blame my own obsessive-compulsive needs, or any of the thousands of other issues I deal with every day, but... no. I don't think it's any of those things.
I don't know. Maybe it's because things have been so good recently, and I don't feel that I really deserve this. I don't think I deserve the happiness and the freedom that Terra brings me, with how responsible I feel for the shape that Valhalla is in, thanks to my actions and inaction. I don't feel that I should be so free to pursue all these hopes and dreams when Terra is still only called my 'mistress,' and I've let myself be bound by laws that... I have the power to change. That, better yet, I have the power to completely ignore.
I push myself away from my chair, then walk around my desk and head to the open door. I close it carefully behind me, listening to the snick of the lock and reflecting on the fact that locks really don't serve any purpose in keeping the people I want out of my office, out of my office; they only stop the people I want to spend time with from getting in.
That strikes me as a particularly-morbid thought. I wonder what's gotten me so frustrated as I head through the corridor, shaking my head once to try and clear it as I decide to head for Valhalla's library. I can go over codices and old laws and further familiarize myself with the original ruling system of Valhalla and Odin's years as King. It might help at least get my mind focused, if nothing else, and that's something I need right now.
The walk to the library is long, but quiet. I don't pay much attention to my surroundings, responding automatically to the few people I do pass. My mind is scattered and I feel confused. My emotions all feel out of sorts and jumbled-up, and I just wish that things were... a little smoother, a little different. Like the world would make more sense, like I could understand exactly why I'm feeling the way that I do.
I'm surprised to find the library is mostly empty, but I'm glad for it: I might not have much of a fan club, but both demons and angels like to ask me for favors or try to impress me, neither of which I'm precisely in the mood for at the moment. It also means I'm able to loiter a little through the shelves, taking my time in selecting a few of the older texts that catch my eye before I head for a table.
I sit down, and I start to read. To me, it's a worthwhile way to pass the time: I don't believe that reading in and of itself is automatically a mark of intelligence, or even a worthy venture, but that the content which we choose to read determines its worth. I think history, science, and philosophical texts all have the greatest impact on our lives and minds: when we push ourselves to learn, we push ourselves to become better, that is what helps determine the quality and value of our lives.
It helps that this research is important for current events as well: many of Valhalla's current laws come from the study and modification of much older rules, after all. I enjoy the challenge that comes with adapting tradition to modern culture. Maintaining Valhalla as chief administrator and so-called King is my job and responsibility, but actively working to make Heaven a better place for all its citizens and personnel is something I take pride and pleasure in.
Reading and researching does help soothe my mind: shortly, I summon a notebook to start drafting ideas and proposals, and that helps me feel even better. Perhaps it was just the lack of having anything to do that was getting to me, exacerbating my negative feelings and all the concerns still floating around in my mind.
I'm shortly interrupted by a pony I hadn't expected to see, however: Excelsior. He sits himself quietly at my table, and I pause to regard him for a few moments with interest before sighing and returning to working on a bylaw when the unicorn only looks at me awkwardly from behind his clipboard. “I'll wait for you to gather your thoughts.”
Excelsior remains quiet and a little awkward, shifting back and forth before he finally clears his throat and says nervously: “Lord Kvasir, uh... we just received a strange request from Valkyrie Freya. She says that... she wants to meet with you.”
I look up with a frown at him: there's no reason even Excelsior would be hesitant or nervous to bring this sort of message to my attention... unless... “What's gone wrong?”
“The letter mentioned a possible... problem with the Pious on Looking Glass World. She's concerned about their behavior.” Excelsior replies as carefully as possible, and I sigh a little. Freya isn't someone who jumps at shadows, and Excelsior likes to sugarcoat everything. This makes me very worried that something has just gone horribly wrong. “I believe she wants them evacuated... well... for their own safety.”
That's even more worrying. But also gives me a hint towards what could have happened: considering the Pious, my best guess is that they've gone and done some show of righteousness that's angered one of the indigenous populations, who are now threatening them. I'm unaware of precisely where their Sanctuary is, but I know that the Nibelung and griffins can both be far less accommodating than the ponies. As I'm also aware the Pious are proud enough to perhaps even try and pass their judgments over the barbaric dragons of Looking Glass World.
I sigh and shake my head slowly, then look at Excelsior, saying after only a moment's consideration: “Tell Freya to come by Bifrost to make her case as soon as possible, and to bring Antares Mīrus with her. Also send a message to the Pious, saying that I require a special session with an ambassador to discuss a conflict at one of their holy places. They should respond quickly, considering our earlier agreement.”
“Right away, sir.” Excelsior scribbles a few notes hurriedly on the clipboard, then excuses himself with a mumble and runs off to do his job. He's efficient, at least, but I find myself wishing he'd handle things a little bit better.
I shake my head again, then look down at my reading and research before closing the texts and making my notebook vanish with a simple spell. Then I stand and reach absently up to play with my necklace, before muttering: “Well, I suppose things could be worse.”
I know that's a dangerous phrase to say. Invoking it is almost like asking things to be worse, but in a strange sort of way, I'm actually glad that I have something to do. I stand up and head out of the library, making my way back towards my office: if Freya is serious, then it means she'll be here shortly, and I want to get a head start on composing the warning letter I have no doubt she'll ask me to write.
After all, if she actually wanted to protect the Pious, she's more than capable of doing the job. Even if she's stepped down from serving as a Baroness, she all the same wields great influence and power, and has only grown sharper over the years when it comes to matters of debate and discussion. Anyone not blinded by stupidity or insane levels of pride would be very compelled to listen to her, considering her habit of speaking softly but very effectively wielding a very large, sharp stick.
My end analysis is that she doesn't want the Pious in Looking Glass World: this assumption is backed up by the fact that she's told me this several times in her own words. While part of me is a little concerned that she's using whatever conflict has been roused with the Pious to pursue a personal vendetta, at the same time I trust Freya's judgment and her ability to overlook personal biases in pursuance of the greater good.
It's funny: only half an hour ago I was frustrated and needed to relax. Now I'm dealing with something frustrating and finally feeling back in my proper place. Maybe I need the right amount of conflict to feel like I have purpose in this world.
No wonder I like work.
Entry Twelve
I have removed another long period of logs. While several events that occurred could be considered as important to the overall narrative, they are also easily summarized thus:
The Pious built their church near the Equestrian border. Their 'missionaries' have been traveling in all directions and made contact with a griffin garrison, which they then proceeded to attempt to preach to. As the griffins are still on neutral terms – at best – with Looking Glass World's ponies, and are actively hostile towards most other races, this quickly resulted in escalation into violence.
The Pious defended themselves aggressively. They caused great damage to the griffins and their garrison, and then returned to their church, or Sanctuary, as they refer to it.
Equestria was accused of harboring enemies of the griffin nation and beginning an invasion. The griffins quickly locked down their borders and sent messages to their allies.
Freya, serving as an ambassador alongside my liaison Antares Mīrus, met with several griffins to attempt to stop a war from starting. A deal was quickly worked out where the Pious would be asked to leave Equestria and would issue a formal apology to the griffin's ruling council.
Over the course of a week I dealt with diplomacy between the Pious and Valkyrie Freya and eventually brokered a deal. The Pious will retreat from Looking Glass World for five years, and when they return, they will build their church near the Skin Walker settlement in the wilds west of Ponyville. They also sent a messenger to take an apology to the griffins.
Antares Mīrus has done fairly well as liaison, carrying messages back and forth between Midgard, Valhalla, and the Pious both in Asgard and Looking Glass World. I hope he continues to keep up the satisfactory work.
The conflicts between Pious, ponies, and griffins have been mended, and peace continues to be stable. Freya is satisfied that the Pious will be removed from Equestria and the griffins have reopened their borders. Several years have passed now since these events with no deterioration or change, although Freya has spoken to me more than once, concerned about the Pious' interest in rebuilding their position in Looking Glass World in roughly one year's time now.
Few other truly remarkable events have occurred over the last few years. I realized that I was pruning entire months at a time from the narrative and leaving in very small segments that have little bearing on the current state of affairs, and more personal value. Therefore, I have moved these stories to a personal journal.
An important event is now approaching, however, which I felt was crucial to include in this narrative after a space of four years of edited-out tedium and relative unimportance. I am proposing several major legislative changes today, several for my own personal benefit as much as Valhalla's, and I feel that this may make me a target for hostilities. It may also disturb both Gymbr and Hel, who I have remained in uneasy alliance with.
A side note: Hel and Gymbr still have yet to actually meet and negotiate with one-another, despite the fact they both expressed such an eagerness to. Both, however, seem equally intent to try and avoid contact until the other is in a weaker negotiating stance, although I am not sure what would leave either Gymbr or Hel in a less-than-desired starting position.
I will now permit the narrative to resume and strive to make any further edits in the body of the narrative itself, to ensure full readability.
Terra kisses the back of my neck as she slips my suit jacket onto me, and I sigh a little even as I work to repress a smile. She's been much more affectionate than usual lately, but... I think I understand why. All the same, I'm not doing this to make her love me more. I'm doing this because she deserves it, and I feel I deserve it, too. This is in no way altruistic... it's very selfish, at the end of the day.
I button my dress shirt closed over the bone necklace, then turn around and push awkwardly at her when she leans in to try and kiss me, saying mildly: “Enough, Terra. Are you ready?”
“I am.” Terra smiles proudly, straightening and nodding firmly. She's adorned with not only her usual bone jewelry, but also twists of gorgeous gold around her forelimbs and neck, shaped like serpents. Show jewelry, the kind of thing Terra hates to wear, but has agreed to on this one formal occasion to try and look a little more... presentable, in spite of the fact she's an enormous, metallic demon-dragon. “Are you?”
The question almost catches me off guard as I brush at my suit jacket slowly, and then I simply nod and smile, when I realize that I actually am. I've been fretting about this ever since I first began to work on the proposals six months ago but... now that it's time to present them all, to push for this... I feel strong, and confident, and ready. And like one way or another, I'm going to make the Heavenly Council agree with my decision.
Terra gazes at me lovingly, and then she leans forwards, and this time I meet her for the kiss despite myself. When we pull away, I smooth down my dress jacket one last time before nodding to her and turning around, saying calmly: “Just remember. Keep your cool, no matter what's said. I don't want a repeat of what happened at Lidya's.”
“Oh, stop bringing that up, it was one time and that asshole was an asshole.” Terra grumbles, but she nods all the same, and that reassures me a little. Just a little, though: I know that when her temper snaps, then bad things happen one way or another.
But I also know that Terra understands the gravity of the situation, and that this isn't just about us. There are other people depending on us as well, and hoping for the approval of these proposals and laws... even if we have our enemies as well, of course. Enemies who will be no doubt vocal in wanting to refute these decrees, even if I've done my best to keep most of what I'm bringing to the table today as secret as possible.
Then again, it's not really a table we're going to. We're holding a full council meeting in the Republic Chamber, and the entire senate will be there as well. I'm looking to introduce sweeping changes to Valhalla, and modify some of the traditions I originally worked to uphold myself in the first place. It's going to be a long, difficult day... and I'm only glad that Terra and my other friends will be there to support me through this process, for better or worse.
This is a little outside my comfort zone, yes: normally I sit at the head of a table, in complete control. I don't have to ask for approval, nor do I have to put on any presentation or give long speeches. I simply maintain current laws, with occasional meetings now and then with the senate to find out what they're currently in session over. And when I create new laws and amendments, they're usually minor enough that it's well within my right to simply change them as I see fit, with minimal input and approval from others.
I start down the hall with Terra striding behind me, my head high, my eyes focused forwards. I feel like I'm being watched on the walk, but tell myself that's just paranoia: things aren't going to start getting messy until after my presentation is complete.
I'm putting a lot at risk, but... I'm confident things are going to be okay. I've discussed this with Freya, who approves of my agenda, and Gymbr has offered to provide whatever protection I desire. And even with the creature still locked away in his solitude, there's very little that Gymbr can't do.
Most important of all, Terra is with me, literally and figuratively. It's what gives me the strength to do this, what gives me the reason to risk this: I know the real problem isn't going to be the proposal itself, after all, but what the proposal represents. It will be the fact I'm challenging traditions, that I'm looking to change some of the laws first set in place by Odin and the Aesir themselves.
When we enter the Republic Chamber, Terra breaks off to sit with Excelsior, Pipsqueak, and – surprisingly – a bouncy, excited-looking Hel. I'm unsure about how I feel about her presence here now of all times, although the sight of her amongst my supporters... I'd rather have her there than sitting with my enemies. Not that I have many enemies, politically-speaking, but even if I am the only person who can rule Valhalla, there are plenty of those who think I should be a figurehead and nothing more.
I myself stride down to the center of the theater, to the open, circular pit where the other speakers and lawmakers are assembling. There are three rows of benches that go around the circular presentation area, and I sit on one of the middle benches, as do the other lawmakers and judges and magistrates, many of whom have advisers that sit on the lower and upper benches. It's like an uncomfortable sandwich of underlings: an unfair thought, but I've always found that stress brings out the most sour parts of my personality.
I was very specific about wanting no one to sit with me on this occasion. It may look like I'm trying to take all the credit if my proposal is met with success, but I prefer to think of this as taking all the blame during the inevitable conflict that's going to erupt.
I shake my head as I settle impatiently on the bench, looking moodily out into the center of what is colloquially known as 'the pit.' Not just because it sits so low in the center of the amphitheater, but because of how the semi-anonymity provided by the thick crowds and the dim lighting over the audience seems to encourage people to behave as nastily as possible. The name 'Republic Chamber' for this particular presentation hall is really an ironic joke: it's in this place that Valhalla is more divided and savage than anywhere else.
Soon, the master of ceremonies strides out to the center of the pit, ringing a bell loudly to silence the murmur of conversation and bring in everyone's attention. The law-keeper – a glorified announcer – unfurls his scroll as he and the toted bell-ringer stand together, before the angel declares clearly: “This full congregation of the ruling powers of Valhalla has been called by Lord Kvasir, King of Valhalla, to declare a self-described 'sweeping change' to the laws of Heaven. Lord Kvasir, you may take the floor.”
I nod as I stand, striding out into the pit and clearing my throat as I place my hands behind my back. I look up, calmly, coldly, over those gathered here today, and try to swallow the dryness in my mouth. My eyes rove over the audience, the rows and rows of seats beyond the magistrates and lawmakers, filled with members of the senate and councilors. Few people in this audience don't have a voice, don't have the power to try and block this decision. Even if enough of the people sitting near the far back wall disagree with me, I may be forced to use my power to overrule council, senate, and anyone who disagrees with me... and risk looking like a tyrant in the process.
I look back and forth slowly, then raise my head and say clearly: “During the course of reviewing Heaven's laws, I discovered that no angel, no Blessed, no citizen of Heaven is permitted to marry a demon or immigrant from Helheim or related planes. Therefore, I wish to amend this law, and to abolish traditional marriage requirements for lords and nobles, granting those of high standing to exercise a right to marry whoever they want, be it from Heaven, Midgard, or Hell.”
There are shouts at this, outrage and profanity amongst a few cheers and other yells, and I raise my hand: of course, this is not my usual battleground. This is not a place where I can see the dissenters and pick them out with ease. This is a place where they continue to shout, and yell, and express their disapproval in the most childish, temperamental ways they can.
So let them. My voice is louder, steadier, sharper. I am dedicated to the path that I have chosen to take. “We are not animals to be bred for purity, and there are no longer gods and giants of every shape and size milling through the halls and Vale. Furthermore, Helheim and Valhalla are no longer enemies. And personally, I will not sit around, curtailing my actions to outdated rules, waiting like a purebred dog to breed with the first bitch of my own race that raises its tail for me.”
There are still shouts. Boos. Disapproval and anger, and recriminations. And the reek of fear in the air, fear of change, fear of breaking tradition, and most of all fear that I am seizing power. Unsurprisingly, though, there's little outcry from the rings of benches: they're not cloaked in numbers and shadows like the audience.
I look up in disgust. Cowards. Fools. I feel anger, but I rein myself in even as I look up and say in defiance: “I have chosen my own wife, in an act that I hope will set the precedent for future generations, and will solidify our growing alliance with Helheim. I am King of Valhalla, and I have chosen to take Terra of Clan Isenertos as my Queen.”
The yells increase, there's horror, disapproval, and I'm... disgusted. When she was my mistress, it was fine. The laws even stated that my mistress – or even a prostitute – could bear an heir, in the case that there was no Queen, or the Queen never birthed a child. But when I say I want to raise her to a position of power, give her status... no, give her the ability to stand eye-to-eye with Heaven's 'nobles...'
What nobles? What nobility? They're cowards. And I don't know what makes me angrier, the jeering senate audience, or the fact that many of the lawmakers and councilors around the pit clearly disapprove, but don't speak up against me because... I can see them. I can identify them, and they're afraid of being punished. Where is the vaunted honor of Valhalla?
And then the sound of clapping begins. It cuts through the air, like a giant smashing boulders together, and slowly, everyone falls silent as all eyes draw upwards towards the source of the sound. I look up in disbelief myself to see Hel is on the stairs, coming down towards the pit with a wide grin on her face and her eyes burning with appreciation and pleasure, and as she approaches, her voice whispers in my ear, despite her still standing so far away: “You've chosen your friends wisely.”
The ice puppet reaches the pit, looking back and forth with a smile. Someone shouts at us, but Hel only clicks her tongue before she reaches up and flicks her wrist... and there's a blast of ice and a scream of agony before the goddess says loudly in the shocked silence: “Now, now, where I'm from, we don't put up with that kind of rudeness. Baby gets a spanking when he's a bad boy and doesn't shut his damn fool mouth.”
There's silence, and Hel giggles behind a hand before her frosty bovine features turn towards me, licking her lips as she remarks cheerfully: “Oh, Kvasir! King of Valhalla, I knew you had some brass balls polished up beneath all the layers of cotton pants and silk panties you wear!”
I glower at her. Hel only grins wider, her eyes gleaming as she looks back at me pointedly before raising her arms and gazing up over the hall, calling loudly: “Friends, neighbors, miserable subjects! Lend me your ears, your eyes, and most especially open up your minds and let in some fresh air, some new thinking, and the slightest spice of poison! Now I hear you all, I see you all, and I know you must be more than a little worried about things, but you just listen to your Auntie Hel when she says this is the best thing I've seen in a long, long time.”
In a flash, Hel goes from posing on her own to leaning over me, her arm around my shoulders, a wide, cheerful grin on her face. “You see this guy here? Most of you think he don't got the stuff to be a proper King of Valhalla. Me, on the other hand? I think there ain't no better guy for the job, and do you know why? Because unlike the rest of you morons, he's not scared of his own shadow, he's stubborn enough to see anything he plans through to the end, yet humble enough to recognize that bluster and pride ain't gonna take him round and around this whole wide universe alone. Admirable qualities. Fantastic qualities. I love this guy. I'm crazy about him!”
Hel throws her head back and laughs, and then she absently snaps her fingers, and ice races up along the sets of heavy double doors leading out of the room, making several councilors that were attempting to sneak out of session stumble back in shock. Hel looks up, and even from here, even with the dimness and the distance, I'm able to see as Hel's bovine, sallow features form out of the ice wall, breathing blue smoke before the enormous Hel-head mocks in time with Hel's puppet voice: “Naughty, naughty, children. Take your seats. This might be Heaven's court, but Hell has the floor.”
Hel laughs again at her own pun, and the councilors go scurrying back for the safety of the crowded seats. Not that it's really safety anymore, as the frozen senator demonstrates. The goddess is too powerful, too all-knowing... and I have ironically never been more glad to have her on my side than I am now. I'm even glad for her shows of power, and somehow I feel like... in a way, this is an act done for my benefit. After all, it's hard to say I'm some tyrant, trying to wrestle power from Heaven, when Hel is dancing around causing mayhem and chaos and essentially holding us all under duress.
What I hate is the thought of owing Hel more than I already do, and I grimace as she skips behind me and grabs my shoulders, looking back and forth over her captive audience as she says brightly: “You see, what Kvasir has started here, is going to be a beautiful friendship.”
I reach up and try to shove her hands away, and Hel easily catches one of my wrists and spins me around before dipping me as if we're dancing, making me grimace as she leans down and grins widely, her eyes gleaming. “Now don't struggle too much, I'm trying to compliment you. Especially for the fact you're doing this all in public instead of trying to hide things under wraps, like that nasty Order 66... or as I'm sure some of you remember it, the Demon Attrition Movement. But I think Order 66 has more of a ring to it, so, you know, I changed the title of that law some time after Valhalla opened its doors back up.”
I scowl up at Hel: I wasn't aware of that. Of course, it makes more sense now, since I've never seen numbered orders anywhere else in the texts or codices. I open my mouth to say something, and Hel just shoves one icy finger against my lips, huffing loudly at me. “Now come on, don't start your whining already! Besides, it was an extremely appropriate change, you're just too dumb to know that. And we're also in council right now. It's definitely rude as hell to try and bring up one topic when we're totally on the topic of something else, and something oh-so-much-more interesting.”
Hel pauses, then she looks back up with a slight smile over the audience of muttering councilors and senators and lawmakers and other officials, before she says kindly: “I'll make it easy for all of you. If you don't pass this law, I'm going to go downstairs and tell all my friends that we're not going to be sharing anymore with Heaven. No soldiers, no food, no nothing, but don't worry: the Archives have some nice, cozy iron nannies waiting to cuddle up any Heavenites who get stuck in the pit. They'll hug 'em nice and tight until you boys and girls learn a little tolerance.”
There's silence, and I shift uneasily as I look back and forth: Hel has taken the focus off me but... at a cost. Now I look like I've bumbled right into some malicious ploy of the goddess', like this was less my idea and more a failed negotiation with Helheim.
It hurts my ego, yes: but at the same, I keep my mouth shut, only glaring angrily over at Hel. But the goddess winks, leaning down slightly and whispering in my ear: “If you want this ratified so bad – and believe you me, I have a personal interest in seeing this kind of law passed too – then shut up and swallow your pride.”
“No, never!” I'm surprised that shout didn't come from me, although for a moment I'm left wondering whether or not my inner child has somehow manifested in the real world as the voice continues angrily: “How dare you march in here, again attempting to influence us through threats and treachery, again attempting to put Hell over Heaven! We are not your servants; it is you who should be loyal to us!”
There are murmurs of agreement and assent, and I sigh and shake my head slowly before Hel huffs and leans forwards, glaring back and forth. “That's real brave coming from a loser wearing an invisibility charm! Why don't you come down here and say that to my face, huh, huh?”
“We don't need Helheim... any more than we need a weak king like Kvasir! Declare hostilities and throw Kvasir out!” shouts another voice, and Hel looks less than thrilled at this as she scowls back and forth. “Down with Hell!”
“I can't tell if you're talking about me or the big icy place I rule.” Hel says mildly, pointing at the ground with two fingers, and I sigh and lower my head. This is all very quickly falling apart, as the council begins to work itself into a frenzy, more people shouting, more yelling, others egging on the chaos to cover up their own personal agendas.
I didn't expect this issue to bring the tensions we've had with Helheim to a boiling point. I honestly didn't. I expected personal attacks and conflict, but not that those in Heaven arrogant enough to believe we don't need the firepower and commerce from Helheim to survive would pounce on it as a platform from which to attack the treaties and alliances I've forged. And while I'm sure Hel's presence and shows of power have something to do with the hostilities, I also feel it was naïve and childish of me to expect anything different from this cacophony.
It's chaos. There's yelling, arguing, shouting. Even the inner circle of lawmakers has erupted into arguments on both sides of the now much-larger issue. I grimace as I look back and forth, and Hel waves a hand uselessly, hopping up and down and glowering around as she adds her own shouts to the rising din.
The problem with gathering so many people who like to shout and argue in a room together is that when conflict erupts, the chaos grows with it, and often to disproportionate levels. As things grow louder and angrier, stupid, animal aggression sometimes takes over, especially as arguments drop from intelligent and rational debate to slurs and insults and ridicule. And then, as often happens, things take a nastier turn when someone loses their composure completely and flings a book towards the pit.
Hel glances up as the book sails towards her... and then everything simply stops. The text floats ominously only a few feet away from making contact with the ice puppet, and there's silence through a room now veiled in a strange, dismal blue light. People are still moving, but their movements are sloppier, slower, as if the air itself has become thick, muffling their bodies as much as their sounds.
The ice puppet puts its hands behind its back, and then Hel says softly: “Odin may not have been a good king, Kvasir, but even at his worst he commanded respect. Back then, the gods knew there was a time for temper tantrums, and a time for discussion and seriousness... and they were well aware there were consequences for behaving badly.”
I look up, and Hel smiles: it's not her usual smile. It's as icy as the construct she acts through, as she raises a hand and says disgustedly: “Sometimes dogs must be whipped.”
She clenches her hand into a fist, and blades and boulders of ice tear upwards around the hall, jutting through the benches and smashing apart wood and tile. People are thrown in all directions as I stumble forwards, staring back and forth in shock as thick frost twists around pillars and crawls in an icy webwork over the ceiling.
And in this thick, depressed air, bodies are flung lethargically, moving slowly as if gravity has lost its mastery to the soupy atmosphere. And somehow, what strikes me most of all is the way sounds are so muffled still, how the glaciers tearing their way up out of the floor come with not thunder, but with gasps, how the world shakes and yet the air grips like a cushioned vise.
I begin to reach towards her, my movements slow and stupid but still trying all the same to... to stop her. This is not how I want to rule Valhalla, how I want to command respect. This is not my vision of how diplomacy and law should work! But without looking at me, Hel sweeps her arm to the side and catches me around the shoulder. Her grin returns, but her eyes are still predatory in her cow-like features as she says kindly: “Just a small demonstration of why we should all be mature and talk this out, instead of resorting to... nastiness. Here, come up with me.”
Hel absently makes a flicking gesture with her free hand, and I stumble even as she steadies me against her when the ground beneath us rumbles violently before a tower of ice tears through the stone, ascending rapidly and carrying us upwards as it becomes a frozen pedestal, a blue, cold stage.
We stand on the tower side-by-side, in the center of this meeting hall: no longer in the pit, but above, drawing the eyes of the cowering masses below. They are terrified, and we are powerful, and it leaves me... very much afraid. Many are injured, a few are trapped in ice, and while none are dead almost all of them are scared that very soon they will be.
“There's not much difference between what sprawls before you and Odin's rule.” Hel says conversationally, and I grimace at her as a shiver runs along my spine. She gestures out over the audience: trapped, frozen, hurt: no, not all of them. Only the ones who spoke out, but I see that Excelsior, Aria... Terra... are all fine. “Odin regularly injured or killed those who disagreed with him at the wrong time or the wrong place. Odin used fear and punishment to keep a person in line as much as anything else, you know this.”
“That is not how I wish to rule.” I mutter, and then I glare at her when she smiles down at me patronizingly. “What?”
“Words alone won't take you anywhere, Kvasir.” Hel chides, and then she snaps her fingers, the blue light brightening, that sense of weight intensifying. I grimace as I look down, and Hel only giggles as she points at a sprawled-out pony. “Look, look! He fainted! And peed! Maybe not in that order!”
I sigh tiredly, and Hel huffs before saying flatly: “Oh come on, it's not like I killed any of them. Just scared them. Just made them listen. Just showed them their actions have consequences. There's nothing wrong with that, Kvasir, I'm doing you a favor!”
“Our actions define us, Hel.” I look down over the chamber, sighing again as I shake my head slowly. “Resorting to simple acts of violence and shows of power like this... it's the easy way out, and only increases the risk that when the stick is no longer present, they'll lash out, act out. They begin to require the threat to function. These are, in many cases, people who have already lived and already died, and long fallen into this mindset: I want to either conquer them or change them. Not just terrify them and overrule them.”
“You want too much. Sure, I understand what you're saying, and it's a great theory. The problem is that great theories don't always work in practice. That nothing is a hundred percent. And that some people are just bad apples, and in a place like this, everyone's going to hate everyone else no matter what you do.” Hel replies pointedly, gesturing easily with one hand. “Now, my Grand Council? You'd never see this kind of garbage, because they all know that if they act anything less than their best and brightest, I'll cut their heads off. And if they're lucky, they'll be dead, instead of... oh, you know me, I'm creative. And just killing them always seems like such a waste.
“This is getting your point across, and asserting your dominance. Because really, Kvasir, we're all just animals, and moral standards, right and wrong, good and evil... none of it really matters at all.” Hel says almost kindly, petting me on the head and earning a grimace from me. “You gotta put yourself first and be a little sociopathic. That's how you live life to the fullest.”
I look down for a moment, then gaze back up and meet Hel's eyes, asking her quietly: “And how's your life, Hel? Infinitely powerful, an entire kingdom bowing to you, and so scared of shadows that you have to hide outside the physical universe itself and so desperate for a friend you keep harassing me through these puppets, that no matter what-” I reach out, seizing her wrist, squeezing into the cold limb. “Can never let you feel contact of any kind.”
Hel looks down at me with incredulity for a moment, then she yanks her arm free and shivers once... before strangely, she smiles at me. She puts a hand over her breast and holds her other arm to her side, then she bows deeply before beginning to slowly, visibly melt into the pillar as she says softly: “No need to be so cruel, Kvasir. Your point is made and you actually cut a chord in my brittle little heart. I'll let you finish things off your way.”
I look down, feeling... almost uncomfortable as the puppet of ice dissolves completely into the tower of ice. I shake my head slowly, then turn my eyes out over the Republic Chamber as the blue aura fades from the air, and I survey the chaos... and strangely, the order that chaos has imposed.
Everyone's quiet. The injured lay here and there, but the only voices are hushed and uneasy. No one is struggling, no one is attempting to flee or charge the pit, no one is yelling or shouting. Everyone has fallen in line for the moment, and I feel that... temptation again. I look down, and think that with Gymbr... I could enforce my rule like this any time I wanted.
But it would be wrong. Easy does not always mean good, just as effective does not always mean correct. We can say the ends justify the means, that doing what is best for the majority overrules the desires of the minority... but that would only be true in a world of black and white, and in a universe where there was more good than there was evil, where everything is more than just a mess of shadows and people of middling morality.
I look over the crowd, then say clearly: “I think Hel's demonstration speaks for itself. No, I do not believe that we need Helheim, that we should rely on Helheim, that we should bow to Hel... but I do believe we should recognize her power, and work together with what was once our enemy.
“I will not back down from my proposal. Nor will I permit Hel to rule Heaven: my Valhalla, as I am King.” I look coldly back and forth. “What is supposed to be our Valhalla, but I see that all of you are more interested in sowing dissent and in putting this place at risk than working side-by-side to fortify and further evolve this vision of Heaven.
“Hel has overstepped her bounds, and I will go to Helheim myself to settle this dispute.” I continue, looking back and forth. “I will ensure that such an event will not occur again and that we are compensated fairly for the disturbance and the damages. But I will also be ensuring there are new rules and laws in place, and a new standard of etiquette will be enforced from now on at these meetings. You act like barbarians and idiots, and I will have order and discussion, not childish bickering and objects flung through the air.”
There's still silence. They're still too afraid to say anything, to resist, and I nod before glancing down at the tower of ice I'm standing on. I can feel the magical energies running through it still, strangely familiar to me, and it's not hard to reach out with my own powers and modify it: in moments, it begins to slowly but steadily melt from the base upwards, lowering me back towards the shattered stone floor of the pit.
As I sink down towards the ground, I look up, seeing ice falling from the doors, watching as it melts away from the victims that have been trapped here and there... and the only thing that I can think to say, in a voice that's more confident and moody than I actually feel at this point and time, is: “Meeting adjourned.”
As I promised the council, I did make a short trip to Helheim, and to the Archives, where I met with Hel. I was accompanied by Terra and Gymbr, the latter of whom hid himself beneath the armor of a Knight of Valhalla. Hel met with us, but only briefly... yet in the few seconds she and Gymbr studied each other through the mask on his features and the ice construct she acts through, they seemed to have a conversation that could fill an eternity with its details.
It served well to make my point: Hel promised several months of peace, and to cause less damage to Valhalla when she does feel the need to interrupt. She also sent a tribute of artifacts and history texts with us... far more valuable than the treasures that the Heavenly Council asked me to collect before I left.
Gymbr returned to solitude afterwards, but had a strange request: it wants to take part in the wedding ceremony Terra and I will be having. The laws are still in the process of being changed, but Terra and I have already finalized the details and even found a place for Gymbr: the entity will serve as my second, or 'best stallion,' as I believe the ponies call it. My only hope is that he's not detected by either of the Valkyries, as I've unfortunately been inclined to ask Freya and Brynhild and their entire family to join us for the celebration. Terra and I both want our wedding to go as smoothly as possible, even if the muddle of ceremonies we've thrown together will undoubtedly cause much... chaos.
I'm nervous. I suppose that must be obvious. I'm trying to write this manually, and my hands don't seem to want to work, can't find the right words. I keep mixing up my words and writing the wrong things and... I don't know why this is so difficult. It shouldn't be. It's only putting words on paper, and yet I'm as unfocused now as I am when I attempt to record this narrative through enchantment.
But lately, when I pick up my quill, I feel the urge to write things that don't strike me as being particularly important. I am trying to keep this narrative record as concise as possible, focus on what's important. My emotional considerations do not have a place here, and I often think that the details of my relationship with Terra also do not. The only reason I do not edit them out is because of my concern about the effect it may have on future events.
I am no bachelor anymore, after all, I am no longer... apart and alone. I have someone who means the world to me, who I would do... anything for, to make happy. Someone who is capable of affecting the decisions I desire to make, to convince me of taking other courses of action, and whom I desire to take care of myself for. Who I look forwards to seeing every day, and who makes me let down my guard.
Emotive rambling, although... perhaps in this case, it's important to the situation. It shows how much I've been affected and it's helped clear my mind and helped me recognize that if I want this narrative to be of any use in the future, if and when something should happen, I need to do more than just form a narrative. I need to present a list of information, and I need to finish making my confessions.
I have avoided the subject since the very beginning, but... I know that I can't continue to. This concerns Gymbr, and the facilities he has created beneath Valhalla. And this concerns both events that occurred before I began this narrative, and resumed only a few weeks ago.
To keep himself stable, Gymbr required samples of my blood. But over the years that passed before resorting to the soulstone core that we implanted in the god to replace his dying Kundalini, Gymbr has attempted many different methods of maintaining stability. All of these I have assisted with, whether it was simply by keeping my silence or helping with his experimentation.
I have stolen from Valhalla's own storehouses and research labs for Gymbr. I have ordered materials from Helheim and other planes of Heaven for his personal use. And I have looked the other way when criminals vanished from Valhalla's prisons: demons, Blessed, others. None of his experiments – ranging from genetic modification to spiritual vampirism – proved successful, and eventually I was able to dissuade him from doing any further... primary research. But I have never been able to talk about it, even to Terra. I feel that, by allowing it to go on for as long as I did, even if the victims were few and far between and none that would be missed... I have failed Valhalla and myself.
And now, in spite of being stable and coherent, in spite of his promises... several weeks ago, I found that Gymbr had kidnapped three of the Pious and had them restrained in his research labs. One was already dead and in the process of being dissected and analyzed like the cadaver of some born-to-die lab animal: the other two had psychic inhibitors bolted into their skulls, to prevent them from being located or passing on any messages.
I was... horrified, and yet Gymbr only smiled at me. And even when I demanded to know what was going on, he simply told me that he was exercising his desire to protect Valhalla from interlopers. He called the Pious strange, spoke of their righteousness with contempt, but had no solid reasons or evidence for what he'd done. And at the end of the day, the main reason he gave was: 'I wanted to know more about them.'
I fear that... Gymbr is slipping back into old ways. Forgetting about the value of others. And so much of me wants to once more be a coward and pretend none of this ever happened after I ordered Gymbr not to kidnap or murder any more Pious and he agreed readily enough, so much of me wants to just overlook this as I overlooked his experiments in the past. So much of me wants to... somehow... trust him still, in spite of everything that's happened in the near and far past.
But my alternative isn't much better: trusting in Hel seems dangerous and insane, particularly given how she does whatever she pleases at any given point and time. But both of them possess a distorted, selfish view of the world, one that endangers even the few things they seem to honestly want to protect... at the end of the day, the only person I can really trust in is Terra, given the fact that... I can be a coward and a hypocrite so often myself.
I have this feeling that... everything is coming to a head, one way or another. That soon, I'll be forced to make decisions I don't want to, that I'll have to negotiate, choose my sides, and settle for uncomfortable alliances with creatures I'd rather avoid contact with if at all possible. I'll have to try and swallow my feelings and hope that I do not allow my emotions, my desire to avoid conflict, to influence how I perform in the days ahead.
I'm not entirely sure how I'm supposed to handle that, of course. I'm confused, and more than a little uneasy when I think about the problems in front of me. When I think about how complicated things already are, and how hard it is to even write on paper an admission of sins I'd rather forget about, pretend never happened, and altogether avoid the punishment for... and I can't help but think of how badly that reflects on me.
Yet I have to, all the same. I don't want Terra to be ashamed of me, and I know that above all, she values honesty and integrity. I can always strive to achieve the latter while I do everything in my power to maintain the former.
There is one last piece of information I want to record. Something crucial and important, that I removed and placed in my personal journal because I wanted two records of it. Terra knows as well, and I'll be passing on a sealed envelope for Freya to keep and not open. To ensure this, I've painted the envelope in my blood and placed a ward on it. I've hidden the instructions to open it safely.
Reviewing my notes, I've come to understand that Gymbr was not honest about his vulnerability. The soulstone does not simply hold a charge of energy inside it: it is also capable of absorbing the energies of Valhalla – and likely any environment – and acting as a kind of filter, allowing Gymbr to steadily circulate those same energies into his body. In this case, the constant absorption of Valhalla's energies to further empower himself has fortified him against purification.
But Gymbr's body is not synthetic. The soulstone core can seemingly work infinitely, but his muscles and organs and nerves can all be stressed. I first noticed this after Gymbr insisted on demonstrating his powers by creating and shaping a whole new set of rooms beneath Valhalla, including an enormous garden area. As the soulstone core absorbed energy – easy to determine by the way it glows – Gymbr's body began to heat up. It heated to the point where he began to almost literally melt and started to sweat poison again, even though he barely seemed aware of it.
His form healed quickly once his core stopped pulling in power, but it's a notable vulnerability. It's also something he was hesitant to discuss, much more hesitant than the effects of antimagic. I think I understand why, however: antimagic is a double-edged sword, and Gymbr can still function through the effects. It hurts him, but is quickly shrugged off, and even while inhibited he still possesses terrible strength. This... overheating, for lack of a better term, is much more serious... assuming someone can survive for long enough for the core to begin having adverse effects on his body.
I have noted, however, there may be a way to force this vulnerability to take its toll much faster. I have discussed this subject on and off with Gymbr himself, and made a few gestures toward attempting to analyze him, but as mentioned he is very adverse to having this subject examined in detail. He often says that I should assist him in keeping it secret, like I've kept his other secrets, because it is in my best interests to protect him.
Somehow, he never sounds entirely threatening when he says this. And likewise, every time we meet these days, in spite of what I saw him doing to the Pious, he makes this promise to me: 'No matter what actions we take, no matter what we might seem to do, remember that we are working to save Valhalla. Remember that we seek to save our friends and family. Remember, no matter what it may seem, trust in us. We want to save you.'
He's said it so many times I remember the words by heart now. And, even if I find myself wondering just what Gymbr's idea of 'saving' me entails... part of me wants to trust him, all the same, no matter what he does and no matter what he continues to do. No matter how often he seems to lie, or try and make me a party to his crimes, I want to believe in him, and that I haven't made a mistake.
I hope that I'm right.
Entry Thirteen
The following entry details my wedding with Terra and important events surrounding this ceremony. I will be copying this into my personal journal, but feel that it is also important to the continuity of this narrative: furthermore, events detailed later on-
I apologize for the abruptness. My hands are shaking. I'm afraid. I feel Terra's forelimbs around me, but I also feel her trembles through them, that she is afraid as well. Gymbr and Hel are both... unhappy with us, and there may be someone or something else watching us at this moment in time. I can't concentrate and I've already ruined five sheets of paper from mistakes and being unable to find the words and letting myself get startled and damaging the paper. I don't know what to do.
Something is after me. For all these years I've been paranoid and afraid, but now, whatever's been picking at my senses, whatever I sensed, felt was going to happen, is finally happening.
I'm attaching the wedding events below. A small blessing is that the wedding itself went well, although there were already... oddities that both Terra and I noticed. The events that follow begin to detail why now... I'm afraid that something could happen any day now.
It's the day of my marriage, and I'm terrified out of my mind.
Terra and I have spent months, almost a year, planning for this one moment. Trying to force different laws, pieces of ceremony, ritual and legal bureaucracy together into one intricate jigsaw puzzle that still doesn't quite form a perfect picture but will hopefully be... close enough.
I'm standing in a dressing room, staring blankly into a full length mirror, my hands trying to smooth imaginary wrinkles out of a pressed and perfect dark green suit. I'm wearing bone cufflinks and the matching necklace made for me by Terra, and a belt with a large silver buckle. I hate large buckle belts and I hate pants and I hate how this spiderweb silk dress shirt feels warm and my loafers are tight and I'm itchy and a thousand other complaints run through my mind, all trying vainly to mask one simple thing.
I'm absolutely terrified out of my mind.
I breathe slowly in and out as I stare at myself in the mirror, and then Excelsior leans up beside me with an awkward smile. He's in his own little half-suit, and Pipsqueak is on my other side, beaming and bouncing up and down in a gaudy, frilly, ugly thing that I would gladly send him to some miserable pit of Helheim for wearing if I could cite a legal precedent... if it weren't my wedding day, of course, and I wasn't feeling so deranged I can't even complete a logical infinitive or participle.
I'm absolutely, utterly terrified, more than I've ever been.
I'm supposed to march out there, into the grand hall we rented, in front of the citizenry of Heaven and nobles and very important guests from Helheim, and marry Terra. In a ceremony concocted from dozens of different things all meant to stand alone as parts of their own specific faiths, instead of a... a slosh, a hodgepodge, a potpourri of a ritual that is as likely to invoke the curses and wrath of a thousand spirits as it is their blessing.
I can barely breathe. My head is light. I feel woozy. I feel dazed. And by Mimir's damned and ugly and accursed head, I'm actually happy about everything.
I just wish that half of Terra's clan wasn't out there, and they weren't all enormous Ironjaw dragons of varying Wrath and Pride demonic heritages.
“Sir, relax! This is going to be the greatest moment of your life thus far, sir, just you wait and see.” Pipsqueak says positively, and I scowl at the pony, but in spite of the Blessed's age he retains a youthful vigor all too clear in his childish bouncing. “Why, everyone's eager to see you, and you've got nobles from all over and this is all very big sir, very big, very important!”
“Very important, yes. It is.” I mumble, and I rub slowly at my face before carefully brushing back my coiffed mane, then I straighten and grimace as I look down at my black hands, flexing them slowly. “You have the rings, correct?”
“Of course sir, I certainly do, sir!” Pipsqueak replies quickly, nodding hurriedly and positively beaming. I suppose this would be what most people call 'cute,' but right now it doesn't do anything but make my mood feel even more sour. And summons up some bitter, ironic entertainment at the situation I'm in. Aren't they the ones who are supposed to be scared and I'm supposed to the rational, concrete one? “Are you alright, Lord Kvasir?”
I fix a sour look on Pipsqueak, leaning slowly forwards, and the Blessed earth pony winces and shrinks slowly back as Excelsior clears his throat awkwardly. But after a moment I sigh raggedly and look uneasily back at the mirror, making unnecessary adjustments for the thousandth time to my outfit as I mutter: “I'm looking forwards to this being over and resuming some kind of... normalcy.”
Excelsior mumbles... I think it's something encouraging, and Pipsqueak just nods rapidly as he straightens. Then they both look over their shoulders as a tall, metal-colored unicorn strides into the room, saying in eloquent tones: “Lord Kvasir. May we have a moment of your time?”
“Of... of course, Gemini.” I say uneasily, but I quickly clear my throat and straighten, and my moment of disquiet goes completely unnoticed, likely thanks to the anxiety I'm already in. I gesture moodily at Excelsior and Pipsqueak, and they both nod awkwardly before shuffling for the door and leaving.
The metallic unicorn stands and smiles in its disconnected way, and I grimace and shake my head a little until I hear the click of the door and the voices beyond the thin paneling fade. Then I close my eyes and rub slowly at my forehead, muttering: “This is a bad idea, Gymbr.”
“No, it is not.” Gymbr sounds almost offended, but also... amused, in a sense. I shake my head a little, and when I open my eyes, I see the creature is smiling at me... perhaps a little more openly now. “We are safe, Lord Kvasir. We have concealed ourselves well enough that not even Freya will have any suspicions, nor the reason to act on them.”
There's silence as I digest this. It sounds confident, and I lick my lips slowly before nodding uneasily once. Gymbr seems pleased as it nods back, before asking a little too eagerly: “And where are your rings? The rings that will symbolize your bond with Terra? We wish to see them. We are your best stallion, we desire to give them our blessing and partake further in the ceremony.”
“Pipsqueak has them. He's the ringbearer, Gymbr: it's a childish position that suits his... childish energy.” I make a face and shake my head briefly, and Gymbr frowns at me enormously, which surprises me. I tilt my head a little, but when Gymbr remains silent in its disguised form, I shake my head and say finally: “There are few positions more important than the one you will be filling, Gymbr.”
Gymbr doesn't look thrilled with this answer, replying moodily, in a voice that takes on sharper female tones: “All the same, we desired to place our blessing upon your material Promises to one-another. This was important to us. We believe that we imparted this onto you in so many words before.”
“Well, if it's that important to you, Gymbr, I'll speak to Pipsqueak and have him show you the rings.” I say finally, and Gymbr looks only a little mollified by this.
“Good. We also demand that both you and Terra are present for this short ceremony. We wish to honor you both in full.” Gymbr says firmly, in a voice that says it won't take no for an answer... and yet all the same, I make a face as I realize that 'no' is exactly the answer I have to give it.
“Gymbr, Terra's traditions state that the bride and groom may not see each other during a thirty hour period before they meet for the ceremony. That's not going to be possible: she's not going to want to violate any tenets of her beliefs, and I'm not going to ask her to, either.” I reply quietly.
There's silence for a moment, and then the creature slowly narrows its eyes, which glow bright green as a distinct blue light burns through its breast, burning a hole in the pony disguise its wearing like a torch melting its way through wax paper. “We do not believe we heard you correctly, Lord Kvasir. By all means your word is law to us, but we detected a hint of rudeness in your voice we do not like. One does not need to be rude to be commanding. One should be willing to recognize and respect our power even while thinking of us as subordinate.”
“You know that I do, Gymbr.” I sigh tiredly, rubbing slowly at my face: it's funny how my anxiety and worry over today is able to outweigh my much more rational anxieties and worries about a monster that can easily obliterate me. Then again, it's not like Terra can't easily kill me if the urge so takes her, and if I screw up this wedding I'll have both Terra and her entire clan eager to do a thousand horrible things to me.
Gymbr looks ruffled by this response, and maybe a little surprised by my lack of fear, my refusal to kowtow to it as I might have in the past. It shifts a little, then raises its head as its horn glows, repairing its disguise and concealing its identity wholly again before it huffs loudly and turns around, shoving out though the door grouchily. I'm... surprised, really, by the behavior. But I feel a little proud of myself, too. I'm glad I can go into the wedding ceremony... feeling a little proud of myself.
I do wonder if there will be consequences later, but... I don't have the time to think about that as I turn back towards the mirror, mentally checking my internal clock as I smooth down my suit one final time before I close my eyes and cover my face with my hands, muttering: “You can do this, Kvasir. Get out there, you can't be late for this ceremony. You know that everything has to be as perfect as possible today, you owe that to Terra.”
I look up, meeting my own eyes, and then I reach up and silently touch the mirror for a moment before nodding once and pushing myself away. I turn around and head out into the hall, and I can hear Terra's voice echoing excitedly through the thin walls. It makes me smile a little as I reach out and silently touch the hardwood surface, thinking that in only minutes, she'll be my wife, my Queen, at my side. No longer my mistress, but... my equal.
Then a throat clears itself, and I look awkwardly to the side to see both Excelsior and Pipsqueak are standing nearby. A faint flush crawls up from my collar as my features tighten, but Pipsqueak only smiles at me brightly as Excelsior says awkwardly: “It's... good to see you smile. Sir.”
“What are you two doing? Go join the others and get ready for the ceremony.” I say crankily, and they both nod hurriedly before turning and scurrying off. I sigh tiredly at this, then shake my head slowly and mutter less-than-sensible words under my breath.
I give them a few seconds' head start, then stride in their wake: all the same, I'm delayed on the way to the hall where the ceremony is supposed to take place. Yet it's all just a blur: I greet people, I half-force smiles, I nod and accept compliments, but I'm not really aware of what's going on at the same time. I only process information and give the appropriate – or what I hope is the appropriate – response while on autopilot.
Eventually, I manage to make my way to the grand hall where this... ceremony is being conducted. To be entirely honest, I'm still not wholly sure what I should actually call it. I just know that this is supposed to have a little bit of everything in it, and it's more about Terra than it is me, because I really don't have any... traditions or culture, nor did I ever anticipate that one day I'd be... married.
It terrifies me, as I walk up the red carpet, looking at the seats on either side... and swallowing and paling slightly at the benches full of scary, bone-covered tribal dragon-demons all glaring at me furiously, a few of them with their own metal scales hammered into the shape of metal armor, others adorned only by teeth and claws and... yes, those are the skulls of smaller creatures.
I quickly turn my gaze back ahead, slowing as I approach the stage. Pipsqueak is already there, and so is the large, elderly dragon from Terra's clan that's supposed to marry us. He's very quiet and ancient, and he nods to me when I draw close. I nod respectfully back, then awkwardly bow my head to avoid too much eye contact, feeling... meek, I suppose, in the presence of this enormous being.
He's a demon, like most of Terra's family. It admittedly worries me just a little that most of her clan are demons: not because of any personal bias, but more because it makes me more concerned as to what they'll do to me if I screw any of this up.
I need to stop worrying about that. I badly need to stop worrying about that.
I breathe slowly in and out, then look up as Gymbr – Gemini, think of him as Gemini for now to avoid any mistakes – approaches down the nave. It looks at me steadily, and I look back... but after a moment, the god nods almost grudgingly, showing that it will at least... bear through this ceremony. I smile in appreciation, and Gymbr seems to loosen up a little from this as well.
It takes its place beside me silently, and for a few minutes, there's only a hum of conversation, a sensation of something building as the seats fill with an expectant audience. Somewhere in the middle row, I can see Brynhild and Freya and their family, including the Draconequus that Freya seems so taken with. In the past I'd make some sarcastic remark about this, but in the present I can only emphasize with them.
But soon, choral music begins, sung by a small band of Blessed ponies. I look moodily over at them, but it serves to quiet everyone present even as the anticipation clearly grows. I reach up and play uneasily with my necklace as I breathe slowly in and out, staring down that central path through the hall and feeling a strange shiver run down my spine as I think: Oh Mimir's head, this is it.
This is it. She's coming. Terra's coming.
This is it.
I close my eyes, for only a moment; when I open them again, I see her there, striding towards me with a soft smile, followed by two enormous dragon-sisters from her clan and Hel. It's awkward, I realize, that... the people seconding us happen to be... well, there's no need to explain it. The awkwardness is plenty self-apparent.
Terra's metal scales have been smoothed out, and she's adorned with charms of bone and shaped ivory jewelry and silk. She's beautiful. She's a gorgeous vision, and I can see her eyes glowing with joy even beneath the veil masking her features. I smile at her, and steady myself as best I can. My legs are shaking and I feel a twisting inside me and... I'm having trouble processing what's happening. It's all so... so surreal. So beyond real.
She reaches the stage, and her clan-sisters move off to the side while Hel takes her place beside her. The goddess, for once, respects the ceremony... but it probably helps half the room is glaring dragons from a clan that apparently has served Hel for generations, and Gymbr is only a few feet away in his unicorn disguise.
Terra holds up a claw. I gently grasp it in my hands as I smile a little across at her, and there's silence for a few moments before we both look towards the elder dragon, the master of the ceremonies, the... whatever his official title is. I can't think. I'm too... excited, happy, anxious, amazed. And as the choral music fades out, silence falls, I feel all eyes turn upwards, and the elder raises his head high as the ceremony begins.
He speaks clearly, calmly, in the language of the old demons, his voice sonorous and strong and echoing through the room: “Before me stands Kvasir of Valhalla, and Terra of Clan Isernertos. Today, they shall be bonded, joined as one, and begin a life together. Today, Valhalla and Isernertos will form an alliance that shall cement our families as one.”
I smile and feel a little lightheaded. Terra raises her head proudly, squeezing my hands as the elder gazes between us, then he leans down and asks her first: “Is he worthy, to join our clan, to be known by our name, to stand by your side?”
“Yes.” Terra answers firmly, looking up and smiling radiantly. The elder smiles back, and then his eyes turn to me.
“Is she worthy, to join your clan, to be known by your name, to stand by your side?” he asks, and I feel the proud eyes of Ironjaw dragons burning into me, as if trying to dare me to deny it.
“Yes.” I say clearly, meeting the elder's eyes, and he smiles. And I think I feel... approval, but I don't dare look behind me. I don't dare move a muscle out of place.
The Elder raises his head, then he says softly: “And now, the Claddagh.”
I smile, but for a moment, there's nothing but awkward silence before I slowly turn a baleful glare towards Pipsqueak, who blinks and looks up dumbly before I hiss through my teeth: “The rings!”
Pipsqueak squeaks, then fumbles wildly at his vest: the boxes that the rings are kept in pop free and fall to the ground. I fight back a blush as Terra only giggles behind her blue, lacy veil, and Pipsqueak scrambles for the boxes before he quickly holds them both up with a weak grin.
The Elder takes them, as calm and implacable as ever, and he pops both boxes open to gaze down at the golden bands with a smile. One is a simple, plain thing: the other is shaped like two claws, gently grasping a heart topped with a crown. Symbols of friendship, love, and loyalty. Something ancient, and not of Valhalla, and that required a titanic effort to inherit from Terra's mother: just looking at it makes me remember the Proving I had to go through with her father.
The Elder looks at me, and my hands leave Terra's claws so I can take the box, and her ring. I breathe slowly, turning my eyes towards my veiled love, and then I say quietly: “Terra of Isenertos, I have earned the respect of your clan and the ring of your ancestors, and now I ask for your love. Will you accept me as husband, and stand beside me as wife?”
“Yes.” Terra's eyes shine through the veil as she gazes down at me, and she raises her left claw, and I smile as I carefully slip the ring onto it, until the crown rests back against her knuckle. And, unnoticed, I slide my finger against it, and the ring tightens as it gleams red for a moment: I spent days polishing it with my blood, making it a beacon I can always see, always follow, like Terra's necklace is for me. And I know Terra feels it, as she catches my hand for a moment and squeezes it fiercely before I can pull away.
The Elder turns his eyes to Terra, and she releases my hand only so her nimble claws can take the last box. She takes a breath, then looks at me, and our eyes meet through her veil as she speaks, in a voice that almost trembles with emotion: “Kvasir of Valhalla, I have earned your respect, lived with your kindred, found a place here with you, and ask now for your love. Will you accept me as wife, and stand beside me as husband?”
“Yes.” I say without hesitation, and I smile as Terra slides the simple golden band onto my right hand. And then, the moment it's on, we turn towards each other, joining hands and claws.
The elder turns, and picks up a beautiful ribbon, woven from a multitude of different colors. He raises this and calmly twists it around our joined grip, as Terra and I gaze at each other, as he murmurs in the language of Terra's clan words I realize only now how anxious I've been to hear: “You have chosen each other, and accepted one-another. In darkness and light you shall be side-by-side; these bonds that are tied now, may they be blessed by earth and fire, tempered into iron that shall never break, never rust, never weaken.”
We both bow our heads, gripping into each other as the rope is fastened and knotted, smiling as the dragon elder raises his head, saying clearly: “This represents not only the joining of two spirits into one, but two families. If they are one, then let them be treated as one, to receive as one all of our love and all of our support. Let their strength bolster each other's as one, and let our clans come together to act under a single flag for eternity and a day. And if their blessings hold true, then may eternity last forever, may their love be celebrated until the end of time.”
The elder settles his claws over the tied ribbon, looking back and forth before he smiles and closes his eyes, bowing his head forward. Terra and I keep our own gazes low and humble, breathing quietly, as the elder switches back to old demonic, flowing between languages with an ease even I envy: “May your fates be intertwined, your story be as one, your loyalty never falter, and your trust never challenged. May blessings rain down upon you both.”
Terra and I both look up, and we both smile. We look towards the elder, and he gazes from Terra to myself before he says softly: “The ribbon shall be loosened, but you will never part, and the bonds that tie you two shall remain forever, unbreakable by any outside force. And when I remove the ribbon, you may remove the veil, and gaze upon one another for the first time as husband and wife, as one, with nothing that can ever separate one from the other.”
We both nod, and the elder draws his claws back, undoing the knot and pulling the ribbon away with the ease of long practice. Terra and I hold onto each other for only a moment longer, before our hands reach up, grasping the delicate blue silk masking her features and pushing it back, and my hands slide gently across her face for a moment as we study each other... then finally, move forwards, and our mouths meet, and we kiss.
We are husband and wife, and in that moment, everything feels right.
I can hardly hear the cheering. I can barely hear the congratulations. I'm barely even aware that Hel and Gymbr are both still there, one disguised and the other silent and smiling and seemingly completely out of character.
I can barely keep track of what's going on. The toasts. The cheers. The shouting and my fumbled speech and dancing with Terra. Accepting congratulations and gifts from guests. How Valhalla mingles with demons and dragons. Switching back and forth so often between dialects as I try to keep track of all the conversations with all the guests that it all mingles into one wordy slurry.
And the next thing I'm really aware of is that dinner has been eaten and things are moving into late evening and the great hall is finally, finally emptying. Brynhild is stuffing her face at the buffet table, though, and Scrivener Blooms is talking with Antares and Pipsqueak and Excelsior, and Twilight Sparkle is trying to tame that monster of a daughter of hers, Innocence. A ten year old terror who's running around all dressed up like a pony, even though she isn't, really. But Brynhild's family is not something I try and concern myself with, since every time I get involved with them it causes me some kind of trouble.
I glance over at Terra, and sigh a little as I see my bride is gazing with wonderment at the little girl. I shift awkwardly, then glance around and realize with unease that Freya is speaking with Gymbr. “Twilight Sparkle is by far the most pleasant of the three, even if that filly is a nightmare. Go and talk to her. I'll... see if there's a problem with our guest.”
“Oh good, I was waiting for you to get to me!” Hel swoops in out of thin air, and I wince as the ice puppet wraps an arm around my shoulders and yanks me away, chattering happily the whole time as she half-carries me off. “I loved this, you know, loved this... loved even more the fact we all knew it was just hokery-tomfoolery from the way you guys mixed a whole lot of random things together to make your 'however the hell you like it' ceremony...”
I glare at Hel, but her parlor trick of talking and walking does its job before I fully comprehend what's just happened: she's distracted me while dragging me out of the hall and into a private room. She half-flings me into the center of it as she kicks the door closed behind her, and then she glowers at me and put her hands on her hips as she snaps: “Which leads me to ask why the hell I wasn't the official officiant and if this is some power play, Kvasir, because it would be very rude to try and sweep the clan that happens to make up a large part of my personal guard off their feet and romance them on up into Heaven, you assnut.”
I don't even have words. I make a few weak attempts at coherency, then slowly close my mouth and my eyes before reaching up and rubbing at my temples. But I'm still reeling from the events of today and not precisely able to think up a response that would make sense to both myself and Hel. There are very few points that bridge logic and insanity to begin with, after all.
Hel has no interest in waiting for me to formulate a real response anyway. I feel her icy fingers seize the lapels of my suit jacket and yank me up off my feet. I look up at her in surprise, opening my mouth, but she's already leaning down in my face. She's snarling, and my eyes widen as I see... anger and paranoia and contempt and... fear. Fear, yes, that's actually fear, because this isn't sane, rational, calculating Hel. This is Hel in the grips of some paranoid delusion, some fit of pique, anxious, angry, possibly violent mania.
“Don't. Take. My. Things.” she hisses, and then she flings me down on my ass, knocking me sprawling back as the puppet looms over me. It's nothing comic or ridiculous or like some mean-spirited fay right now: this is a pissed off goddess whose business model revolves around torture, punishment, and insanity. This is Hel, and this is Hell, and this is quickly becoming one of my worst nightmares come to life. “Now, part of me says you're not smart enough to play Terra and begin earning the clan's loyalty and fealty over what they owe me. Part of me says you were too dumb to understand that I've been manipulating these dragons – living and dead – for a span of tens of thousands of years. Part of me thinks that you don't even understand how special Ironjaw dragons are to me, and the kind of secrets I've been ensuring continue to propagate under the covers, oh, you couldn't imagine how hard I've worked!
“But part of me wonders if you've figured out a few... oh, I don't know, if you've gotten two or three layers deep in my plan. I don't think you have, but I also know that you have a brain in there.” Hel reaches down, flicks my horn, then shoves a finger up under my jaw as she narrows her eyes. “And you and Gymbr have been trying to get privy to my secrets for a while now, which I don't like.
“Now, here you are. Showing off your ceremony in front of me, but making me stand to one side of Terra, shunted out of the real ceremony. Not trusting that me, me , can keep myself from causing trouble, I'm hurt!” She throws an arm across her face, arching her back, theatrical and dramatic... but as I look up at her, I still feel that sense of... intimidation. That at any moment, the wrong thing...
She straightens quickly and glares down at me, then she shakes her head before saying quietly: “Look at you, afraid of me. But fear, see... fear has to be applied in the right way. If you scare people the wrong way, they react violently. They react stupidly. They rise up, in some stupid effort of rebellion, even against forces that can utterly obliterate them with a twitch, a thought, a word. It's annoying .
“I know you're afraid of me, Kvasir, and that's fine and well. I want you scared of me, a little. I want to be friends, sure, but I want to be the friend, the big sister, that you know if you piss off is going to clobber you good.” Hel holds up a fist threateningly. “Because I will. I want you to remember that. And to ensure you do, let me tell you something, right here, right now, let me get something crystal clear for you: I would rather smash all my toys than hand 'em over nice and easy to you, then let you steal them from me. You ask like a good little boy, hey, we can share. You try and take what's mine, or you try and get your grubby little mitts on something better? I'll smash 'em, and I'll make sure I break all your fingers with the hammer while I'm at it!”
Hel is leaning down aggressively in my face, fist raised, eyes glowing... and then she smiles suddenly and bops my nose gently before saying in a friendly voice: “Good talk.”
And with that, the ice puppet turns to cold water that splashes over me and leaves me sitting in a puddle. I mouth wordlessly, then close my eyes and reach up to comb my fingers slowly through my sopping mane, shaking my head weakly, disbelievingly. I don't entirely know... what the hell just happened. I'm just able to sit and... stare blankly and... wonder what the hell just happened.
After a few minutes, I pick myself unsteadily up. I can't really think, or concentrate, as I wobble slowly on my feet. I look back and forth uncertainly, then rub at my face and grimace a bit before I sigh and drop my head, shivering and brushing at myself before I grimace and wave my arm sharply to the side, not really focusing on any spell, just... lashing out with magic.
Heat engulfs my body for a moment, crushes it, suffocates it... and then it's gone, and I breathe slowly, lowering my head and closing my eyes. I shake myself briefly, then slowly look up and grimace a little as I try and regain the little of my composure I can through the... the insanity and the confusion and the everything else.
I absently comb down my mane as I approach the door and open it... only to find, to my surprise, Gymbr is on the other side. I open my mouth, but catch myself before I can blurt its name: a good thing, too, because Freya is watching me from across the room. I may be out of hearing range, especially with the loud conversation Terra is having with Luna, but I know that Freya can read lips and has sharp eyes.
“Gemini.” I say conversationally, and then I sigh and step backwards at the insistent look that Gymbr gives me through the unicorn disguise. It enters the room, and I close the door, hoping moodily that Freya doesn't decide to use any scrying magic. I have the feeling that if I ward the door to block any magical spying, after all, it'll just lead to unwelcome questions.
But in the event that anyone is listening... “What is it, Gemini? Is this about... what we discussed before the ceremony?”
“No. There is... hostility in the air. W... I do not like it.” Gymbr replies after a moment, with very visible effort to refer to itself as singular. I grimace a bit: even if everything about it is undetectable, the fact that it takes so much effort just to say a single letter is probably an easy tell. And with how sharp Freya's mind is... “I think... you should leave. And trust in... me.”
“What do you mean?” I feel uneasy at its choice of words, especially so soon after my confrontation with Hel.
Gymbr steps forwards, its eyes narrowing before it suddenly grits its teeth and snaps its horn to the side. A black flash fills the air, and I'm almost knocked off my feet by powerful magic, dark magic; I'm stunned, but in blurs and flashes, I see the creature take back its normal shape and its soulstone core glowing brightly...
And then we're somewhere else. No, that's the same floor I feel, there was no disorientation, no movement, but Gymbr has... altered reality somehow, in some way that I could never have anticipated. We're just outside of reality, yet not in the ether: we're in the same place, but not at the same time, like we're out of synch with the real world.
We're in a place, I realize, that Gymbr could do anything he wanted to me, and I couldn't even cry out for help.
An ironic, embittered part of me notes I probably couldn't manage that anyway.
Gymbr looks at me intently, then it leans forwards and says quietly: “Something reaches for you, Lord Kvasir. Because your mind is weak, and confused. Because in the torrent of emotions, of happiness, you have shut out fear and left yourself as open and naked and vulnerable as a blossomed flower. Even Hel's words have not had the impact they should: you did not take her warning into consideration, only sought to return to your bride. She makes you weak.”
“I... stop. I can't even concentrate here. Don't insult me and don't insult Terra.” I mutter, reaching up to touch my skull. My head is aching, the world feels like its spinning; Gymbr can bring me outside reality, it seems, but he can't stop the experience from punishing my mind.
I force myself to look up, and I see Gymbr stride towards me, the god frowning down at me before it says quietly: “Pay attention to our warning.”
“I already have more enemies than I do friends.” I mutter, my headache worsening. I close my eyes, and there are flashes of color through my brain, making my skull throb with agony. “Then... why don't you find what's threatening us? And bring me back to reality, this is supposed to be-”
“You are a fool!” Gymbr shouts, but a moment later, we're back in physical reality. I almost fall backwards from the very literal way I seem to be thrown back into my body, gasping and shaking for a moment before I look up in surprise as the entity approaches, growling at me: “We have given you everything, including our own servitude, and you have gone from too afraid and weak to command us to rude and calling us fool, to thinking that we are jumping at shadows, relying more on Hel than on us! All you think of is courting your wife, then court her, and we shall do all the work for you as we have always done, because you are not willing to get your hands dirty, because you are pathetic, because you are figurehead of Valhalla but shall never be King!”
And then Gymbr is gone, and I touch my own breast and stare into the space where the creature had been only a moment ago. My mouth works slowly, and then I look down silently and close my eyes and feel... I feel hurt. I don't like how hurt I feel by the creature's words... not by all the times it's choked me or attacked me or done something else terrible during its bouts of madness.
I sigh quietly, then stand up and head for the door... but I halt there. I reach up, pressing my hand against it. I breathe slowly in and out, feeling the warmth that permeates the grand hall, the energy still in the air from the ceremony, the wedding, the good times that began to slow only a short while ago... but here, has already been stolen, ruined, violated.
I shift a bit, looking over my shoulder at the empty room. Hel's coldness lingers, and Gymbr's powers seem to have altered the atmosphere, made the lights a little brighter, the walls loom a little more heavily inwards. I fear that if I open this door, I'll let all this bad air flood out; I feel for a moment like... I should just stay here, in this lonely room. And I'm scared of what I've gotten Terra into.
Terra... my bride. This should have been the perfect day, and now? Now... now I don't know what to think. I close my eyes, and shiver once before I look up and think that... everything had been going so well at first. Why is it that now, everything's gone so... so wrong?
I try and... make sense of things, get some sense of what's going on, and I shift on my feet and realize that maybe right now, there is no making sense of things. There's just... pushing forwards if I can, and making it through this, and hoping that I'm able to do a better job of being a husband to Terra than I have being a King of Valhalla.
I finally push the door open, stepping through it, feeling the cold air whisper past me, and I force my features to be calm. I have a very good poker face, and even if I know Terra will see through it, I know that at least it'll keep most of the others from recognizing it or asking questions. I start across the grand hall as Terra looks up, and immediately her eyes register that something is wrong... but then again, I have the feeling she knew something was off the moment Hel abducted me, and Gymbr coming over to add his own two cents in private would have tipped off anyone with even the barest understanding of what was going on.
Freya seems a little concerned too, but also... appraising, maybe even ready to lay guilt. She's sharp. I always underestimate her, and yet I think it's impossible not to, all things considered. No matter what you think is safe from her, she always finds a way to figure out your secrets. Some days I think she must read minds: other days I find her even more frustrating to be around than Brynhild.
And then, in a moment of both blessing and curse, Pipsqueak scrambles across the grand hall and up to my side, breathing heavily as he gasps out: “L-Lord... Kvasir! Needed... you're needed at the... meeting room!”
I halt in mid-step and slowly turn towards Pipsqueak. The few dragons of the Isernertos clan that remain turn almost accusing eyes on me, even as I say in a low, clear voice to Pipsqueak: “I told you there was to be no business today. You and Excelsior were supposed to delay or handle anything-”
“I know, sir, I... I'm terribly, terribly sorry, sir, but I'm afraid that we don't have a choice, it's... it's an emergency with the Pious, they're reporting that something... attacked them, sir. They're demanding action, or...” Pipsqueak looks back and forth, then he swallows thickly as the others approach, and I suppose I can't blame him for being intimidated. Brynhild, Freya, their varied family, Terra and several of her Clan...well, they make me nervous too, even now.
I sigh and reach up to rub at my forehead slowly as Pipsqueak awkwardly attempts to slip away, but before he can, Freya asks him quickly: “When did the attack happen?”
“I uh... ma'am, that is to say, Miss Freya, Lady Freya ma'am, I just... well, I'm not sure quite what I'm allowed to say here...” Pipsqueak fumbles, visibly sweating as more eyes turn towards him. The Clan dragons are already leaning in aggressively, baring their teeth: it terrifies the poor earth pony, but surprises me. It's not aggression I'm feeling from them... or well, not towards us. It's a desire to serve and protect Valhalla.
Then again, I know that they see Valhalla not as my castle, as Heaven, but think of it more akin to their own clan: one enormous family, in which even the lowliest servant is included as a member, where even the outcasts and the black sheep are protected against the enemy, because nothing is more important than family.
I raise a hand, drawing attention to me as I say clearly: “I'm afraid that I have to deal with this business. Even though it concerns... outside allies, this could point towards either a problem within Valhalla, or directed towards Heaven. Terra, you have my apologies.”
“Don't apologize, Kvas. You're King of Valhalla. I know you have your responsibilities, and it makes me proud to see you living up to them.” Terra says softly, and she smiles supportively before leaning forwards and kissing my forehead. “I'll finish up here with your wonderful friends. Just hurry back to our room afterwards.”
“Foul idiot. But I suppose thou must be surrounded by fouler still idiots if they cannot handle such events themselves.” Brynhild comments, favoring Pipsqueak with a sour look, and the earth pony manages a weak grin as Scrivener Blooms sighs and Twilight nudges the sapphire Valkyrie firmly, but Brynhild only continues with her obnoxiousness: “Then again, Heaven is naught but a grand mess of politicians and flittering birdies, anyway.”
I decide it's best to just ignore her as I turn and stride quickly towards the exit. Pipsqueak hurries after me, and I'm unsurprised when, just as I near the doors, a throat clears itself loudly to draw my attention, and I realize that Freya has silently followed as well, the Valkyrie asking me quietly before I can even fully turn towards her: “Do you need my help, friend? Because I'm always here if you need me. And I've worked very hard to no longer... judge, as I may have in the past.”
I look at her: a key hangs from one of her ears, a symbol of her commitment and her love to her strange Draconequus partner. I shift uncomfortably, and for some reason it's not just her apparently all-seeing eyes that make me feel nervous. It's the sight of that key that makes it so much more tempting for me to tell her, that makes me feel more like... keeping my silence is something like a betrayal.
“No. I'll... come and speak to you tomorrow about things, Freya, but I think I can handle this.” I say finally, forcing a small smile. It only seems to make the Valkyrie all the more worried about me, though, and I can see Sleipnir trundling towards us, so I turn and quickly excuse myself to leave with Pipsqueak and head out into the halls.
Evening is becoming dark night, and Valhalla is settling down: well, some parts of the Castle are winding up, but the corridors I pass through with the Blessed earth pony are mostly empty. The only people I see on the way are Nibelung and ponies employed to light the torches every night, and they pay us as little heed as we pay them.
Pipsqueak keeps shooting me nervous glances, but I don't see anything. On the one hand I don't want to reinforce this behavior and dependency on me, on the other... I'm glad he saved me from what would have undoubtedly been a very awkward conversation.
Things remain calm and quiet until we reach the anterior halls, heading for one of the meeting rooms. Then I feel it, a tickle, a moment before something hits me.
I'm on my back, grabbing at this thing overtop me, pinning me down with what feels like claws. I look up and see a head concealed in dark cloth and gripping shadows, and I curse as I struggle with the beast, this thing that feels more animal than it does man or pony or intelligent being. I can't make sense of anything in the struggle, not until I see the knife.
The knife draws all my attention. The knife is metal, and curved, and exudes a terrible malevolence. The knife is raised high, and the only thing that's stopping it from striking is the fact I've somehow managed to grab this thing's wrist, crushing down on a gangly limb concealed beneath so-thick, all-encompassing cloth.
It leans down, and I push back up, teeth grit, breathing hard. I can't see this thing's face. I can just see dark shadows, and smell something... bitter, tart, toxic as it leans down and rasps: “C'mon, handsome, just give in... it'll be so much easier if you just give in... don't make me make this hurt. ”
I try to twist the assassin's wrist as my other hand shoves at it. Pipsqueak has already bolted like a coward and there's no one around and I can't bring myself to yell, only to snarl as this thing bears down against me. The cloak its wearing has layers and layers to it, both physically and magically, and its shifting, flexing, yanking back and forth eventually frees it, letting it raise its knife high, then plunge it down.
There's no last minute save as the knife buries through my shoulder. The agony is indescribable as I cry out, and the bastard twists for no reason except to cause me further pain. His free claw manages to seize my forearm and pin it back even as my other hand plunges into his hood, sinks into the darkness beneath it, and shoves and scrabbles at whatever is hidden in there.
Teeth bite at me, pierce through the hardened material that makes up my hands: the instinct to survive takes over, and as my blood spills out of wounds, I focus on it. I make it not inspiration, but destruction: I make it boil and come alive with all the hate and desire to survive that I can dredge up.
The assassin wrenches his head back with a howl of surprise, yanking his knife with him: I know enough about how to defend myself to exploit that moment, slamming both my feet into his stomach and knocking him off me.
He's faster than me, though: he moves in a slither, circling around and leaping at me, and I don't know how to defend myself. I don't know what to do except to try and scramble for my feet, but he's on top of me again, shoving me down before he tries to shove the knife up against my throat, but I catch his hand and wrist, gripping tightly as I can before his free claw seizes my throat.
He's squeezing, but he's not trying to cut off my oxygen. His hand is moving back and forth, probably trying to find the artery, intent on either ripping it out or choking it off. And I bare my teeth as I glare up defiantly: I can't transform myself in mid-grapple, but making a few minor changes to my anatomy? Nothing is easier.
Then he suddenly twists the knife, and it rips through my suit, scratches my flesh as he tries to bury it deep, but I manage stop him. I gasp, and he snarls before grabbing me by the face, shoving against my muzzle, hissing at me...
And then it looks up before suddenly leaping back and off me... but not fast enough, as to my shock, the creature is blasted away by a fireball of golden light. The thing squeals as its cloak catches aflame, and then it turns and bolts, but Freya leaps over me without slowing and continues on a sharp pursuit after the assassin.
I gasp for breath, straightening and grasping at my chest as I close my eyes, shivering once. And of course, now there are people coming towards me, coming to see what's wrong.
But none of them are coming out of the meeting room.
I stumble up to my feet, ignoring everything and everyone around me as I shove through the crowd, wading my way to the door to push it open... and I mouth wordlessly at what I see. It's not my first time seeing death, nor my first time witnessing an assassination in Valhalla, any more than it's my first time being targeted myself... but it strikes me to the core that... this has happened. I know there will be repercussions. I know this means that something terrible has begun.
Three Pious are dead, throats slit, stab wounds in their bodies from someone who clearly had an intimate knowledge of their structure considering... how much they've bled. The way they've sprawled out, showing they died before they even had a chance to fight. And several of my own councilors have been killed... in much sloppier ways, from the splatter and the maiming they look like they lived through.
Someone steps up beside me, tries to muscle into the room. I shove whoever it is back without looking, then turn around in the doorway and glare back and forth before shouting: “Lock down Valhalla, now!”
Knights bolt for their duty, probably all scared of being dismissed after not running to break up the scuffle in the halls. But what would it have sounded like from the other side of closed doors? A fight in an empty corridor: I'm the one who never shouted for help, I'm the one who didn't speak up, who didn't cry out even when that knife sank into me.
I touch the wound, and grit my teeth. It hurts. But what hurts more is the question that rises to the top of my thoughts, uneasy, worried: do I want to die?
What bothers me even more is that I don't honestly know the answer.
Entry Fourteen
Terra and I have been on high alert for months now. I'm not sleeping, and struggling to bear up under the weight of not only maintaining Valhalla, but my uneasy alliances, and the secrets I must keep. I'm only glad that I have Terra beside me... and surprisingly, the strength of her Clan. I never realized how seriously they took these bonds of family and honor. That they would more than accept me, they would treat me as one of their own.
But they're not enough. Perhaps even Hel and Gymbr aren't enough: despite the fact that they're two creatures that could compete on equal ground for the title of most powerful thing ever of to exist, they're also each only one person. Hel has much to rule and contend with – not to mention her own paranoia and madness – and Gymbr cannot simply follow me around constantly. Not even Terra can do that. There's always going to be a moment where I'm vulnerable... or someone else is.
I need to strengthen our relations with our other allies, but... whoever this is, whoever wants to hurt me... they've done more than make an example of the Pious. They've targeted other allies one-by-one, mutilated soldiers, hurt Valhalla, with the clear intent to drive off our allies. And in some cases, it's worked all too well.
The Pious still stand by me, but I sense... they want something. That something has offended them, and they're not here because I want them to be, but because they want something. Maybe that was why they tried to sneak in here through the abuse of Selene's memory in the first place... maybe they're hunting some enemy that slipped its way into Asgard, or our layered corner of the universe. I... I don't know. I don't know... I wish I did, but the Pious won't talk to me. They only hug themselves and bring up the fact that several Pious were murdered in the halls of Valhalla.
Thankfully they seem unaware of the Pious that Gymbr victimized, otherwise I'm sure there would be... problems. But as a related side-note, I have finally discovered what their self-embracing gesture means: it's how they 'protect' themselves from nonbelievers. It's not a greeting. It's putting up a wall between themselves and the 'unwashed.'
So even from the beginning, they judged me unworthy. Well, considering the fact they make this gesture any time they communicate with someone who is not Pious, I suppose that means they see everyone outside of their own strange culture as unworthy. But this only makes me wonder all the more exactly why they're here in the first place; it makes me all the more concerned they're here for what was formerly a personal problem that is now becoming a threat to all of us. I don't know why or how, but that's the feeling I'm getting more and more of.
Do they need us for some reason? Was the attack targeting them, and Valhalla collateral damage, or some kind of bonus? What aren't they telling us? No, I can't... focus on that right now. Getting any information from the Pious is worse than pulling teeth. I'll do better if I think about the things that I can affect right now, that I can get the answers to. That I can actually figure out and maybe even succeed in doing something about.
So much power standing at my side... and I'm so helpless. Valhalla's lockdown didn't catch the unknown assassin, and Freya was unable to prevent his escape. And I can't even pretend it's a possibility that it was sent by Hel... that wouldn't make any sense, even by her insanity and twisted logic. And if she had sent it just to make a point, she would have bragged about it by now.
All I can do is make sure that Terra is safe, even when it means shearing down my own security detail, even when it means putting myself at risk. But I accept that. I fear that Terra might be targeted precisely because she seems like a stupid choice to attack... but people all too often forget that the stronger a demon is, then often the more violent its reaction to purifiers and blessed tools. The right wards would still snare Terra, the right weapons will ignore the fact her scales are metal... the right arrow will still pierce her skull or her heart, and inflict all the trauma necessary to kill her.
In a way, I'm more durable. I can transform myself, I can't bleed to death, my blood itself is my weapon and defense. And I'm as used to pain as Terra is, even if we lived very different lives before we met. And I have to protect her... I have to. I've failed in everything else but I refuse to fail in this.
I'm now... trying to figure out what my next move should be. How to answer all these questions. What I should do for Valhalla, how much aid I should accept from Hel, whether or not I should bother trying to get all the rats that want to jump ship to stay, or let these 'allies of Valhalla' return to their bunkers and hidey-holes. Any more than I'm sure about how many of them I should call in promises from and remind of their oaths... if binding them here is a justified course of action, or if it would instead make me a bigger coward and possibly a murderer when they do nothing but quail from... whatever might yet rear its ugly head.
My fingers tap slowly at my desk, and I sigh as I make a few more notes on the page. I've learned that I can modify this enchantment to let myself write, add my own thoughts, in between the lines the enchantment records for me. It's a little sloppy still, but I can take care of that in editing, like everything else.
It feels like... years since the wedding. And yet it's only been a few months. So much has happened, though, so much has gone completely out of my control, and these events are all documented in a separate log I've created for clarity's sake. I have every intention of continuing this narrative, this narrative of answers... but the new log concerns only questions, and this period of... I don't know what to call it. Uncertainty. Fear. I can't call it war, after all... you can't declare war on a concept, not literally. It might sound good for me to declare war on the enemies of Valhalla, but I don't even know which enemy attacked me, and the dark corners such a 'war' could turn...
I shake myself out, then toss down my quill almost angrily. I close my eyes and try to concentrate. I shiver a little, then look down at the paper and wish... I had an answer. Any answer. I wish that things made sense. I wish that I could make things make sense. But I can't: everything that I had almost convinced myself was just paranoia is coming to pass, and it's making me wonder if I caught some vision of the future, or my subconscious has been trying to warn me for decades that... this was going to happen. Either self-destruction, or invasion from a foe I don't even know the name of.
Slowly, I pick myself up from the table, my head bowed, my eyes closed. I hear the enchantment continuing to write, and I only hope that... among all the garbage, the nonsense, the filtered lies, some piece of truth will be revealed. Some hint, because... I'm afraid now. I'm afraid that I'm not going to be able to stop this.
I turn around... and Hel is there. I stumble back against the desk, jarring it before I grit my teeth: she's inside my study. She passed through the wards, the high security, the lockdown with ease, and I open my mouth... but as fast as the anger comes, it dies into something like despair, and I slump into a sigh before raising my eyes and asking in what's almost a whisper: “What?”
“So defeatist. Come on, chin up, it ain't over 'til it's over!” Hel encourages, smiling and swinging an arm in front of her in an encouraging gesture. I just look at her sourly.
There's an awkward quiet for a few moments, and then Hel huffs at me, rolling her eyes and throwing her arms up. “Oh fine, be that way. Anyway, Kvasir, I just wanted to check in on you. Do you know why I wanted to check in on you? Go ahead, ask me why.”
I continue to only glower at her.
Hel grumbles at me, then reaches up and pokes my nose a few times. “Spoilsport. But in a way, yes, that's exactly why I'm checking up on you. You've assigned your wifey-poo two of her big scary clan-brothers to watch out for her, and you've even gone to the trouble of getting bodyguards for Aria, even though word on the grapevine is she kind of hates you. And what about you? You carry around an alarum charm in your pocket, and sometimes you walk around with a Hellhound. You're welcome , by the way.”
I shake my head, muttering: “Gymbr's response time is literally seconds. Often shorter than that. He also seems to enjoy... being useful.”
“That's one way to put it.” Hel says ironically, and I scowl at her before the goddess shakes her head and pokes at her own temple. “Look, do you not think I get what you're doing? Saying you're bait, sure. Making yourself live bait. Acting like you're confident Gymbr's going to get there in time if anything happens and save your butt. But of course, leaving out the fact that Gymbr is spending a lot of time wandering outside of Valhalla, and you're forgetting that Gymbr can't really save you from getting shot in the back of the head.
“You're being suicidally reckless because you've got this notion in your head that death is redemption, and if you die, they'll leave everyone else alone. Maybe you even think you've got he puzzle worked out, but truth be told, you have no idea what the hell is going on, do you? You're nothing but a stupid idiot, determined to get himself killed as part of some noble sacrifice.”
“It's nothing like that.” I growl, and I shake my head slowly before reaching up and covering my eyes with one hand, bowing my head as I say quietly: “It's nothing at all like that. I don't want to lose Terra. I don't want to leave Terra alone. But I'll do anything to protect her, too. They seem to want me... you and Gymbr both focus on me. I'm King of Valhalla.”
“Exactly. You are King of Valhalla. You need to watch out for yourself.” Hel says quietly, and I frown up at her, but we only look at each other silently before the ice puppet of the goddess smiles at me. “I like you, you know. I'd never kill you. Hurt you, sure; screw with you, maybe put a scare into you now and then, but you know even at my maddest I'd never kill you, Kvasir. You're kinda pretty, and kinda smart. That makes you pretty smart!”
“Thanks.” I say moodily, looking uncertainly at Hel, and the goddess shrugs before she leans forwards pointedly, and I shift before shaking my head, muttering: “But I'm not going to change my plans. Even if things have been... repaired, and bolstered... even if...”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're stubborn, you know what's best, you want to be your own big man, whatever.” Hel waves a hand dismissively, and then she glances moodily back and forth before leaning forwards and enunciating slowly and clearly: “I am not your enemy, Kvasir. I've even let you have my precious dragon clan, haven't I? I want you in Valhalla. You, in Valhalla, helps me. I am not your enemy.”
“I know.” I feel a little uneasy, looking up at Hel with a slight frown. She looks seriously back at me, and for a moment I catch a glimpse of her paranoia before she smiles again and puts her hands together, nodding to me.
“Just making sure. Just making sure you all know.” she says, putting strange emphasis on the phrase, and I frown a little at this before the goddess points at me and says firmly: “Watch out, Kvasir. Because you might all call me paranoid, but in time you might learn I'm not paranoid at all. I'm just prepared for the worst case scenario.”
And with that, Hel vanishes. I shift uneasily, then shake my head out slowly before I sigh and look at my desk. The quill is still writing quickly over the paper, and I have a few... I don't know, I want to work on the narrative further, but right now I feel I need to clear my head. I need a walk. I need to go and see Terra.
I head to the door and open it, then look down mildly as the Hellhound sprawled in front of the closed door looks up and barks at me. It's wearing a glinting metal armor over what would otherwise be exposed, frosty organs, and it barks once at me as it looks up with glowing eyes of ghostfire, giving me a rather... doggish expression for a massive hunting hound of ice and death from Helheim.
I roll my eyes distastefully, then gesture awkwardly at it with one hand. I'm much more of a cat person, but a Hellhound is intelligent enough to serve as a loyal guardian with the right instruction. I can't help but feel my mind wander to what Hel told me when she first gave this to me: it will be loyal to me because she's been having an ice construct shaped like me and dressed in my clothes train it.
That thought always makes me feel a little violated.
I glower at the Hellhound as it attempts to jump up and lick my face. I still have the feeling that it's been trained to give this greeting whenever it sees me. “That's enough, Lexrex. Heel.”
The Hellhound drops down obediently, even seems to nod to acknowledge the order. And when I turn and head through the halls, the massive beast-demon strides beside me calmly. I can't help but glance at it meditatively, then put my hands behind my back as I return my eyes upwards and keep myself moving.
Patrols of guards pass, and many of the civilian employees are moving in groups for safety. Valhalla has never seen this kind of attack during my reign: the slaughter of allies and councilors inside our own halls, followed by an attack on the King. An attack that was... sloppy, really, even if the aggressor escaped Freya's wrath. Where he stabbed me still hurts: the knife would have killed me if he'd hit any vital organs. He could have killed me.
But I don't think that was the point; I think the point was already made with the deaths of the Pious and my associates. I think the point was emphasized by the attack made against me, but I don't think that was part of the plan. I think someone saw their chance, and decided to take it. Decided to try and do something that would inspire further fear, further pain... perhaps further anger.
I always think better while walking. I lower my head slightly, and Lexrex half-guides me onwards as my mind slips back and forth, rehashing memories, trying to find the clue I know must be here somewhere. Trying to figure things out.
This all began as a confession... but what if there was something else in my subconscious? What hint could I have missed... why do I feel this was all inevitable, and triggered by some decision in the past? Gymbr, Hel, this assassin, my allies, and myself... we're all woven together in some intricate web I don't have the tools to decipher, but I started all this. I did something that started all this... or at least, I had a hand in what began this catastrophe.
Part of me thinks that it's Gymbr: part of me prays that Gymbr is actually our salvation from this nightmare, and reassures me the only reason I've locked onto him as the core, the root of the problem, is because he's so powerful, and I worry about his... lacking morality. And envy and fear his power, even if he's now very glad to serve as the teeth of the trap that I've baited with myself.
But my crimes began with him, didn't they? I felt that I had to confess, had to reveal everything he's done... the evils. That I brought him here. That he's killed and that he's kidnapped, but that he promises it's all in the name of... something good. How he pleads with me to trust him and how... I want to. Am I just revealing my weakness? Or is there something hidden there, too, like a gemstone buried in the depths of a lake, twinkling through the glassy surface of the water...
I look up and realize I've already reached my quarters. I gesture to Lexrex to sit and stay, and the Hellhound obediently does so. That makes me smile wryly: if only my other employees could be so brave and so smart. Pipsqueak and Excelsior are both still hiding from me as much as possible... but I'm not going to punish Pipsqueak for running away, any more than I'm going to punish Excelsior for... well, being himself.
I push through the door and into the short hall beyond. The door at the end is guarded by an immense Clan-brother of Terra's, but he bows respectfully at my approach and moves out of the way as best he can. I nod back, then awkwardly slip by and through the doors beyond.
Terra looks up with a smile from the enormous bed we've had installed in this set of guarded and warded rooms we've been staying in. They're comfortable, just... different from what we're used to, and I know she's been unhappy not working, spending most of her days in these rooms or helping with diplomacy, so... I'm happy to see her smile.
I approach her, and she shifts out of bed to lean down and kiss my forehead. I sigh a little, but look up at her tenderly as she asks quietly: “Anything happen, Kvas?”
“Hel, but nothing else. Nothing sane.” I shake my head slowly, then glance up at her. “I just wanted to stop in and see you. You settle my thoughts.”
“Well, I hope so.” Terra smiles at me, and we both shift a little before she strokes my hair back, and I grumble a little and shift awkwardly, but she only murmurs: “I love you, you know, Kvasir. And I want to be by your side, not sealed up in here...”
“I... I know. I care very deeply for you as well.” I say uncomfortably, and Terra smiles at me, but there's that faint... twist visible in her eyes. I hate that. I wish I could fix it... I know I could, with a few simple words, but...
I can't form them, I can't speak them. I don't know why. It makes me feel exposed, vulnerable, and a little afraid. It makes me afraid of making them worthless, of poisoning their value. It makes me feel like a hormonal teenager who doesn't even understand what he's really saying.
I've said... those words to Terra twice in our entire relationship. When they felt right. Terra finds it easier to say, and tells me every night – if not every conversation – and there's always that uncomfortable moment when I smile back but don't say anything, or when I manage to mumble some return of affection that tactically – although rarely tactfully – avoids those specific words.
There's silence between us, and then Terra clears her throat before she reaches up and strokes under my chin gently. “Look, you go ahead, and go... back to work. I'll come over to your study in a few minutes.”
“Terra, you should stay here, and I can stay with you...” I start, but Terra shakes her head firmly and then briskly shakes me a few times, making me wince.
“No, I want to come over to you. Give me a few minutes, then I'll come to you.” she says firmly, and I sigh tiredly but nod moodily after a few moments, figuring there's no other real response I can make. I can't exactly come up with a decent argument as to why she should remain in seclusion without getting my head literally chewed on, after all. At least, not in such short time. And honestly... a little actual privacy with her in my study, time to discuss things... it might be good.
I look up at her, and then I reach up and touch her face gently. She smiles a little at me after a moment, softening, some of her frustration fading, and I nod once before turning and heading out. I once more pass by the large dragon guarding her.
I step outside, and Lexrex greets me with his usual lick before I sigh and order him to heel with a quick gesture. He does so, and trots happily along beside me. We make our way back towards my study, and I'm thankful that things are... quiet. But I hate the sight of patrols and guards... I hate the fact that... so many people are afraid. That Valhalla is under siege from unknown enemies, and forced to rely on... uncertain allies.
I want to save them if I can... and I shake my head slowly at this thought. It's painful, in a way, because it makes me think of Gymbr's promise... and I'm unsure of how much I can trust him. I'm unsure of what the cost of saving Valhalla could be, especially by methods like... his.
These thoughts refuse to leave my mind as we continue on our way towards my study. I still can't... get my mind entirely around Gymbr. Every time I think I understand the creature, it does something new, or acts in some unexpected, strange way. And it's made so much more frustrating by the way that part of me still wants to trust in the creature, still wants to treat Gymbr like a friend.
How can we be friends, though? Gymbr is both ultimate god and ultimate monster. Gymbr says it would be happy to act as servant, and then grows furious when it's treated as such. I don't know what precisely to make of the creature, or even if I should bother: part of me wants to see just how much control I really can exert over the beast, and send him as far away from myself and Terra as possible... except that would leave me exposed, and vulnerable, and Valhalla without the... the ultimate weapon I had originally intended him to be.
That makes me halt in the middle of the hall, then shake my head and hurriedly stride onwards as Lexrex whines at me curiously. But I'm fast to regain my composure, faster still to correct myself. Thinking like that... of Gymbr as some tool, some weapon alone... that makes me sound like Valthrudnir. I would much rather be the naïve idiot who thought he could make friends with the maleficent god-beast than Valthrudnir.
Yes, it was... pity, that moved me first. It was sympathy for the creature, not hate, not just a desire for power, even if I can't lie to myself and say I didn't want a strong guard dog for Valhalla, too, a powerful deterrent. But if that was all I was interested in, I wouldn't keep... reaching out to Gymbr in the way that I do. And I wouldn't be so goddamn confused about what I'm supposed to do with the creature, especially at such a critical juncture like this. I just wish I could control not just my emotions, but my obsession with logic too.
We reach the door of my study, and I order Lexrex to wait: the Hellhound flops down, and I sigh tiredly and roll my eyes before pushing through the door... and staring in surprise when I see Gymbr in the center of the room. The creature is looking across at me calmly, and I look back as I give an uneasy look at the door; there should have been some alarm set off by Gymbr, even some kind of... tickle in my mind, some instinct...
I close the door and look towards the quill still complacently writing over the sheets of parchment on the desk. I quickly pull my eyes away, but know that Gymbr has already noticed my look... except the creature is still looking straight at me. Still studying me intently, and I shift uneasily before asking finally: “What is it?”
“You want to save them if you can... but you doubt in our ability to.” Gymbr echoes thoughts I had only moments before, and I realize... he's already seen the narrative. Likely knows the entire series of thoughts I've been thinking, and the creature shakes its head slowly before murmuring: “We asked you to trust in us. To keep our secrets... and now find that you have been... recording conversation. Making this a story... and we are not fond of being trapped and entwined in a story, Kvasir. We are not fond of that at all.”
I shift slowly, and Gymbr's burning emerald eyes bore into me as the creature leans forwards. I swallow a little, then shake my head before forcing myself to breathe slowly as I straighten and reply in an even voice with a half-lie, hoping that it doesn't see through me: “It's a narrative I've been working on, if you must know, Gymbr. I am entitled to record my thoughts and to a little privacy, furthermore. This is just meant for... personal review.”
Gymbr takes a moment to digest this, and then he closes his eyes and tilts his head back and forth meditatively before he says finally: “It is of no importance. The past is the past, it cannot help the present or the future. Not when we believe we have figured out our answer.”
I frown at this, and Gymbr looks up at me, saying quietly: “But you must trust us. Perhaps we have done much to violate your trust, perhaps we do not deserve to ask for your trust... but we do, all the same. We desire you to trust us, Lord Kvasir, because we desire to help you, to save you. To help and save Heaven itself. But we need your trust.”
I shift a little at this, but before I let myself agree or refute the creature, I ask uneasily: “What is this... answer that you've found? Evidence against someone? Who sent the assassin?”
“That, and more. We have found something else that desires to 'save' our universe. But it would do great harm in doing so... although it would perhaps ultimately bring true salvation, yes. Order and law, and a singular belief... but a terrible peace. A soulless peace.” Gymbr's eyes burn as it leans forwards, saying in a more-determined voice: “The cycle of light and darkness, chaos and war, where good and evil will remain embattled forever... the universe cannot be saved by a distortion in the balance, but only by fueling the conflict and the war. By giving more reasons to fight. By bringing more darkness, to keep the light poisoned and at bay, while enjoying the flaying, the suffering, the penance we must pay and the havoc we must bring!”
I stare at the creature, my mind trying to make sense of it, my breathing heavy, my head shaking weakly in denial. What have I done? What have I brought back?
Its belief consumes it like madness. It breathes hard in and out, its eyes turning towards me and staring, its soulstone heart glowing, pulsing out of its chest like some sick phosphorescent tumor. It grins at me, then steps towards me, saying coldly: “We shall save you all. You cannot understand yet, but in time, you will. You will.”
“Gymbr, stop!” I shout, in fear and desperation... and to my surprise, the monster actually halts. I stare at it, breathing hard, and it frowns at me as if in confusion before slowly raising its head.
“You are confused. You are frightened?” The last is querulous, not as solid a statement as the first. Then it leans further forwards and shakes its head, trying to be soothing. Looking almost... startled. “No, do not compare us to the Gymbr that is passed! We are not that Gymbr, we are... our purpose is to protect, not destroy! You have taught us much, and we do not seek to make our own dark kingdom... we only seek to stop the plague that is coming. The so-called 'good' that will poison us all... that will obliterate us, and our allies, and all who would stand against them. They chase the Pious here... these Pious are like the vermin that flee the forest, with the wildfire following in their wake...”
“Stop talking in riddles and tell me what you mean! Show me evidence!” I snap, and it's a mistake. I understand it's a mistake too late, as Gymbr is suddenly in front of me, his hooves now claws that have seized into my shoulders, his eyes meeting mine, faces inches apart.
“Remember our promise, Lord Kvasir. No matter what we say... no matter what we may seem... in the times ahead, we are not the villain. We shall not be made the villain of the piece. We desire to protect you. To protect Valhalla. To protect the ponies. We wage war with darkness, and hate, and wrath, and evil. But we are not the enemy.”
I look at the creature, swallowing slowly... but my body stills as our eyes lock, my mind falls silent, and my heart calms. I feel... I don't feel afraid anymore. This is what had to come to pass, that I've known... maybe since I saved the creature. I first trusted it. And now all I can do is trust in it one last time, and with that... there's this sudden, almost inexplicable calm. But I can't fight it anyway, can I? If I'm wrong, yes, I die... but if I'm right, like I want to be, like that part of me still pleads for me to believe...
I just wish that I could tell Terra how much I love her, before... my narratives crash rudely to their end. Before I find out... what's at the end of my path.
I breathe slowly in and out, and then I finally lower my head and close my eyes, saying quietly, mustering up the little dignity I can through this moment of calm I've been granted: “I do trust you, Gymbr. More than I should. More than you've ever given me reason to, probably because I always wanted to believe... saving you was not a mistake.”
Gymbr smiles at me, and then I look up at it silently, the two of us looking at one-another before Gymbr says quietly: “Then trust in us, Lord Kvasir. And we shall show you the salvation for a universe that cannot be saved.”
I don't have a choice. I'm not afraid anymore, and yet all the same, I feel a tear slide down my cheek as I hang limp in Gymbr's claws, unable to fight, unable to do anything as there's a glow, a surge, a feeling of energy and reality bending and then
Addendum
My name is Terra.
It has been one year since my husband, Lord Kvasir of Valhalla, vanished with Gymbr. There have been no signs of either of them, and I haven't mentioned these journals. Kvasir made me promise not long after I first found out about the god I would never betray the secret of his existence, not unless it could be proven that Gymbr was Kvasir's killer. Not unless Gymbr came back, and did something terrible. Not unless it was absolutely necessary.
I made a promise, and I don't want to break that promise. But I've read these logs again and again. Kvasir's narrative, Kvasir's journal, and Kvasir's register... three very different diaries he's left behind that might help us figure out what's happened to him. I read them... every few weeks, it must be, because they remind me of him, even though they're so dry and hard to understand and too serious at parts, but that was Kvasir too. That was part of the person I loved.
I haven't made any big edits or changes to the books. I haven't removed anything, and I haven't revealed any of their secrets, or even their existence. The only thing I've done is change their names to something less conspicuous and bound them to look like real books: the Hermit's Tale, the Mead Journal, the King's Almanac. They sit on my shelf, out in the open, ready to be found if something happens to me, but at the same time perfectly hidden. No one wants to borrow big, boring-looking old books, after all.
I don't know if Kvasir is alive or dead, but I want to believe he's alive. He was strong. He was stubborn. And he was smart. I believe in him... and I also believe in Gymbr. I don't know why, but I was never really afraid of him... and when I read over all these logs again and again and again, I always see the same thing. Gymbr promises to protect us. Gymbr tries to look out for us. Even with all the times he hurts or scolds or lectures Kvasir, it's his... stumbling way of trying to protect him. I know what that sounds like, but I think it's true.
If something happens... even if I reread one of these books one day, and see something that catches my eye differently, that makes me think Gymbr and Kvasir are never going to return, that Gymbr has hurt Kvasir instead of... bringing him somewhere to try and save us... then I'll bring them to Freya, who I'm sure will decipher the hints and clues hidden in these texts to figuring out... who tried to hurt us. Who our enemy is.
But unfortunately, since Kvasir has been gone, things have also been quiet... which scares me, because maybe it means something really was after him. Maybe something wanted him for some reason, and Gymbr brought him to a safe place, where he can't be found, he can't be hurt. I want to believe that, but I also hope one day Kvasir returns, or we're able to find him.
He deserves to know his son.
Sometimes all you have to do to see good, Is give someone the opportunity to do good.
April 23 rd – May 18 th , 2013
Entry Nine
I have spent the last few days cutting and trimming through text and paper to remove unnecessary filler from this narrative. Looking back over previous pages, I see a lot of repetition and... unclean work, I suppose is the best way to phrase it. I am not satisfied with what I have produced so far, and wish to create a cleaner, more coherent narrative.
Part of this is because of the nature of this confession: I realize that, as this enchantment records mainly my thoughts and reactions, my perhaps subconscious desires play a great role in steering the narration forwards as if following some preset plot. But this is no fictional design, and nor is this supposed to serve as anything but a telling of important matters during this period of my life as King of Valhalla, in the event that something happens to me.
I am working on finding a better enchantment to summarize events, but so far the results have not been up to par. And nor do I have the time to return to my private office every night and list out the entire events of the day, while going over what may or may not be important. I have many days that are so busy all I can do is concentrate on each task on the agenda as I reach it, and then cross it off once completed and put it completely out of my mind.
For example, the last few days have been tedium, during the course of which the only event that sticks out is working with Antares Mīrus. He's a fairly fast learner, but his problem lies in application: he has a tendency to be hesitant and meek in negotiation until his disputant eventually touches a sore nerve. Then his mother's personality surfaces and he becomes much more aggressive and sharp, and he forgets the first rule of debate: do not get emotionally involved.
This may have little bearing on my own personal situation, but at the same time I have to wonder if the actions of himself and Brynhild won't contribute in some way to my eventual – and likely premature – demise.
Either way, you see my point: what I do remember is not always anything of any real use. I'm no machine able to perfectly and precisely process every little bit of information available. For now, using the enchantment makes it much easier to deduce what should be removed and what should be left behind.
And that is why I've reactivated the enchantment from this point onwards. I sit back in my chair with a sigh, feeling... exhausted, and like I have a terrible headache. I'm not... really sure what I should do with myself right now, either. There's a few possibilities but none of them stand out as being the best use of my time.
There are a few matters to attend to, certainly, and I have a notebook out on my desk nearby, open to a list of things that I have to get done that I... I just don't feel up to the task of attempting to sort out at this moment in time. I glance at this, then reach out and draw a finger slowly down the list before I sigh quietly, tapping moodily on the third point on the short list, and the most pressing matter: selecting a replacement for Aria.
For a moment, I feel a faint ache. A tremor runs through me, and I think about... well, how different things could have been if I'd just been honest with her, with Terra... with myself. And furthermore, how different, how much better it would have been for everyone involved if Aria and I hadn't gone chasing after some momentary, diminutive pleasure and instead we had acknowledged the only possible rational end to our actions together.
The only positive point is that in her showing yesterday, Aria excelled. Yes, I was worried at first: when Hel attacked, Aria was simply frozen and thrown away, after all, and she may not seem like much apart from your standard Blessed Pegasus. But even if she lacks magical ability, she excels in physical combat, and this is where many of our Valkyries require training. Even Terra relies heavily upon her special abilities in combat: Aria's demonstration showed that with a few proper tools, even a Pegasus is a force to be reckoned with.
I was proud of her, and I hurt a little. I don't like that I hurt a little. And I don't like that I yearned to have her back at my side as my assistant. But I'm doing my best to let her go and let her move on, because I know this is what's best for everyone involved. And I already said that I was going to allow Aria to make this transfer if she could earn it... and she can.
The new Valkyries need a coach like her. A former mortal, young, but strong and talented, who can show them how to use mortal and divine tools and avoid relying on magic or special abilities. I should have considered earlier how this could benefit everyone. And yet at the same time I don't want to select a new assistant from the candidate pool Excelsior has finished putting together. I want her back, and I want...
I sigh and shove myself away from my desk, then look for a moment at the notebook before grumbling and snapping my fingers. The book vanishes in a puff, and I turn towards the door, striding to it quickly and shoving through it to slam it bad-temperedly behind me. But in the hall, I stop, take a breath, and raise my hands in front of myself, resisting the urge to fidget, to fiddle with my suit. My fingers want to tighten my tie but... the irony is that I'm no longer wearing a tie. Just an open-throated dress shirt... a 'compromise' I've made with Terra.
Terra... my thoughts turn to her, and I quietly look down at the tooth and claw bracelet around my wrist, shaking it once, making it jingle softly. I study it for a few moments, and a small smile spreads over my features as everything is temporarily blotted out. Then I shake myself quickly and drop my hands to my sides, letting them slip into my pockets as I turn and stride down the hallway, intent on taking care of some of my business in spite of how... well... pointless everything feels right now. Despite how much I just want to go to sleep, or go to Terra.
But Terra, unfortunately, is busy at the moment: I've helped her apply for permanent residency in Valhalla, and her new job is... well... I'm somewhat concerned for her, even if I was told that she's made an excellent impression so far with her fellow workers and new employer. Although her original plan was to apply for a military position, instead of helping with Valhalla's safety and security, she's – ironically – taken on a position as an import specialist between Helheim and Valhalla.
In other words, her job is to oversee trade between Heaven and Hell, transport and inspect cargo to ensure nothing is being illegally moved between planes, and a variety of other small tasks. It's a job that requires a sharp eye as well as brute strength, and while by no means do I think that Terra is anything less than intelligent... sometimes she strikes me as not being... meticulous.
She's made a good impact thus far, though, and it does settle me to think that our cargo is being better protected now. In the past we've had trouble with things being imported through security to sell on the black market here in Heaven: as in all places, we have our own share of illegal trade. Drugs, certain plants and animals considered endangered or too dangerous to be possessed by unlicensed civilians, other contraband including weapons and elixirs designed to permanently alter a person in some way or another.
Export can be just as frustrating: although a portal can take us extremely close to the Archive facilities in Helheim, the Archives themselves will not protect us outside of their land, and until we turn over the property to them. Bands of demons have, in the past, attacked and destroyed our trade caravans, even killed some of the trade escort. Hel, of course, refuses to extend either laws or her Archives to defend the caravans, and prefers to revenge any deaths over seeking justice and turning guilty demons over to Heaven for punishment.
Not that I can honestly complain about the latter: Hel's punishments are much more severe than our punishments. The real problem is in the fact that while Hel will take an eye-for-an-eye when one of Heaven's citizens are killed, she refuses entirely to pay us for trade goods that are destroyed and even enjoys mocking the fact Heaven can't transport a small trade caravan through even a hundred feet of wild Helheim to an Archive storehouse.
Terra, however, still retains Archive status herself. Her presence alone should be an enormous deterrent, now that she's working with the trade commission.
So I abandon the idea of... bothering her, trying to pull her out of work early. Instead, I walk down the halls and decide moodily that... the best way to choose a new assistant is through a simple test. It's late right now, deep night in Heaven, and while not even the Blessed technically need sleep to survive... it feels natural to sleep at night, even for me, and the rest is important for our minds, if not our bodies. So in all likelihood, all these candidates are sleeping...
Without slowing, I flick my hand to the side, and several notebooks appear, floating around me slowly as they flip open. I concentrate on a simple spell, and recite clearly: “Attention: your presence is requested at Frigg Hall in Castle Valhalla for a briefing. Please join us within half an hour. End message, annotate identity.”
The three letters end, signing my name at the bottom of the paper as I continue to walk through the halls of Valhalla with the books floating around me. Then I reach up, touching each page in turn as I concentrate on a name, which scrawls itself out in gold at the top of each page. I may have difficulty remembering some things, but names and faces always stick with me: it's a useful talent for an administrator like myself.
Then, with a snap of my fingers, the pages rip themselves free from the books and burst into green flames, sent along their way by another simple pony spell. I reflect on the pony's magic for a moment and all the uses it has, then shake my head quickly before waving my hand, the notebooks vanishing from sight. It's embarrassing that their spells cover such a wide range of utility, while the only spells I've managed to craft are... less impressive.
I continue on my way towards Frigg Hall: a lecture theater that we don't use very often, as Nibelung and Knights of Valhalla are not often all that interested in sitting patiently in seats and listening to seminars on strategy. They would much prefer just to charge forwards and swing at things with the heaviest weapon they can find, and damn the consequences.
I push through the door into the hall and stride moodily down the steps, putting my hands behind my back. The seats here are gorgeous, comfortable, each with their own arms and designed for pony or biped to sit comfortably in: a greater difficulty to achieve than most would expect. The podium at the front stands tall, with an amplifier for the speaker's voice built into it, and the stage is wide and well-lit by quietly-glowing spotlights.
This makes me frown as I look up, glancing over the catwalk above, but I don't see anyone. Yet someone's been here, prepped the stage for me... yes, I can even see a broom at one side of the room, that must have been used to dust things quickly off. But it's been... ten minutes, perhaps, since I sent out that message...
“Lord Kvasir!” calls a voice brightly, and I raise my head slightly in surprise as a small, lanky pony hurries out from backstage, grinning widely, the Blessed looking excitedly at me. “Lord Kvasir, hi! You can call me Pipsqueak or just Pip, and I'm-”
“Enthusiastic.” I finish dryly, and Pip blushes and lowers his head a little, but he nods quickly all the same. He must have died around his twenties... I try and think back through the extensive log of names and identities I've memorized, before I reach up and rub meditatively at my cheek as I half-ask, half-state: “You're from... Layer Thirty. Accidental death twenty or so years ago from drowning. You've worked very hard to improve your status in Valhalla and currently serve as a notary public.”
Pip stares at me, then he nods hurriedly again, opening his mouth, but I cut him off as I raise a hand and say mildly: “And none of that explains how you managed to get here before me.”
He clears his throat, then gestures quickly to the side a few times with his head, saying awkwardly: “Well, you see, I was doing some research over in the library there. I like to read up on the different layers and research all the variations in the strata and the... the Princesses and everything, especially... well, you know, Valkyrie Luna...”
“Valkyrie Brynhild.” I correct, feeling a little more acerbic on this subject than is particularly fair. Then I sigh tiredly before looking meditatively up at the podium, stepping onto the hurriedly-dusted stage as the earth pony Blessed half-stumbles anxiously after me. “Excelsior recommended you because of your enthusiasm for... legal matters. Is that correct?”
Pip brightens and nods rapidly. I note this but keep myself indifferent as I cross my arms, glancing down at him from beside the podium. “Yes, yes, you bet, yep! I really like to... you know, I mean, I'm really interested in learning the lore of all the different layers and helping prescribe... some kind of legal system that can help everypony. I mean, everyone... I'm sorry, two decades and I'm still getting used to thinking of all the different races. It's just been so... thrilling, sir, thrilling to see all these different peoples coming together.”
I look at him for a few moments, then simply nod moodily. I don't know if you could say I'm exactly pleased or not with how excitable he seems to be, but I suppose the enthusiasm is... refreshing. I just highly doubt that he'll be able to keep up this level of energy as time goes on.
He looks up at me, so eager, and it's... well, I don't know why I keep being so negative. I think it's simply because I never thought I'd be trying to select a replacement for Aria, and that still hurts more than I want to admit that it does.
Thankfully, I'm spared any more one-on-one by two more ponies hurrying their way into the lecture hall. I roll my eyes at how eager they both are to run down to the front seats, announcing their presence the whole time. Well, they're loud, at least, but Excelsior should know that the last thing I need are more loud attendants. I need people who can do the job: everything aside from their productivity is secondary to me.
I wait twenty minutes, pointedly ignoring anyone's attempts to talk to me: during that frame of time, two more ponies show up. I suppose I understand why Excelsior was reluctant to select non-pony candidates, but I do have to wonder whether or not this is going to impact in a negative light by looking as if we were specifically attempting to choose from only one species pool.
Still, there are five of them, all apparently capable of handling the workload. I look over the ponies, studying them moodily: they're seated side-by-side in the front row like excited children, all of them leaning forwards a little, eager for me to bestow on them the next phase of the test. For some reason it only sours my mood more, and I shake my head slowly before explaining in a dry, calm voice: “As I am sure all of you are aware, I require a new aide after... letting Aria go due to unforeseen personal circumstances. Apparently you are all exceptional candidates, and as you have all managed to show up despite-”
“She didn't get past the job interview, she just followed me here!” blurts one of the ponies, raising her hoof and waving it wildly. I look at her meditatively: this makes it easy. “Neither did he! They're both here on illegitimate circumstance, Lord Kvasir!”
The two she's called out look horrified, and I take a moment to tap my fingers slowly on the desk. The sound draws their attention, but none of them make excuses as I only scowl out over the ponies before pointing at one, two, three of them. “You are all dismissed.”
The pony who tattletaled looks up in surprise, blinking and mouthing slowly, and I say irritably: “This is not kindergarten, where it is perfectly understandable that you can't wait your turn to tell me that little Timmy is eating your paste or Susie is playing with your blocks. Furthermore, I fully comprehend the fact that I only sent out three letters to three candidates. I am able to count. Your need to point out the obvious, mixed with your apparent need to interrupt me while doing so, is nothing but a hindrance to productivity and has incurred consequences for other employees, namely termination. I do not need a whistle-blower. I need someone who can sit down, shut up long enough to listen to orders, and follow my instructions. Apparently you are incapable of all three of these things because I see you're already leaning up out of your chair after making a nuisance of yourself.”
The female whimpers and covers her face, her eyes going wide, tears filling them. I feel a little sympathy for her, but... only a little. I need my aide to be able to deal with... well, me. And to deal with all the high-pressure situations they're going to be placed in. And most of all, I need someone who isn't guided completely by moral highs and lows. There will doubtlessly be times when I will have to skirt the very laws I've created in order to do what is best for Valhalla, and a moralist who is so terrified of competition that she has to call out the other desperate candidates before I can even finish explaining what's going on is not wanted. I need someone who... maybe isn't okay with hypocrisy, but recognizes that sometimes we all have to be hypocrites in order to evade getting trapped in endless loops of bureaucracy, and to take care of the things we care for.
Of course, I can't look over something that's been clearly identified as 'against the rules,' and the need to learn that lesson as well. That I am forced to work on a 'by word' basis: in other words, as long as no one says anything, I can overlook even glaringly obvious violations. But once it's declared I have to act on it, like it or not, especially in a public forum.
And maybe I just really, really hate being interrupted.
The female takes off, whimpering to herself as she runs into the aisle and towards the doors. The two who snuck in follow after her hurriedly, and I brush moodily at the lapels of my jacket as I turn my eyes towards Pipsqueak and the remaining mare. They both look scared. Good.
“I'm glad we've gotten that out of the way first.” I say distastefully, and then I look slowly from one to the other. I make a show of sizing them up. I make them feel the weight of my gaze: and while I may not be imposing physically, I've learned to put a coldness in my eyes that can make even giants cower... assuming those giants are at my bureaucratic mercy.
These two are just job applicants, and Blessed I could hurt both physically and economically, and who are looking to put themselves at my mercy. Understandably, they both cower as I tent my hands together in front of myself. “Since introductions were interrupted, we're going to move forwards into a short quiz.”
“Quiz?” Pip asks worriedly, and then he whimpers a bit when I look at him sourly. “Sorry, sir! Just... yes, sir, quiz!”
I only sigh and shake my head slowly, then I turn my gaze towards the other candidate. She's still looking... shellshocked. Scared, like this is too much for her, which... is not a point in her favor. Pipsqueak is shaking but at least still responsive and engaged... and I'd rather have his nervous energy than a nervous silence.
After a few moments, I order abruptly and sharply, catching them both by surprise: “Define Code of Law 75-192.”
“I don't-” Pipsqueak starts, and the mare lunges forwards like a cat verbally pouncing on a mouse.
“Code of Law 75-192 deals with business finances and allowances, mostly regarding business-related expenses such as travel and lodging costs.”
Pipsqueak stares and pales, and I meditatively turn my eyes towards this pony. Her name is Lexi, if I remember correctly. I dislike names that end in vowels. Like Terra. Or Luna. Or Celestia. Or most of the other stupid names these ponies go by that extol their self-fulfilling destinies.
“How do we deal with illegal immigration and reports of demons hiding out in Valhalla?” I ask, and Pip opens his mouth, but he's cut off by the mare.
“Code of Law 111-22 and Statute 13-46-B.” she proclaims, looking more sure of herself now. She has quite a grasp of rules and law codes. I think I like that, since it takes me a second to place the specific codes she's references, but they're proper answers, even if... she's taken a rather non-descriptive path. Still, a factual answer is an answer all the same.
Then she ruins any positive feelings I've begun to have for her by adding: “And I believe we should reinstate Order 66 authority.”
“You're fired. Get out.” I reply calmly, and the mare stares at me wordlessly before I point at the door, still calm but letting my eyes clearly show my... adversity. Not quite anger, because she strikes me as more stupid than callous, but close. “I can't revoke your current employment legally, but if I cared a little less about civil rights and equality, believe me when I say that I would. I recommend that you do not allow our paths to cross again.”
She whimpers, then half-falls out of her seat and scurries like a kicked dog for the door. I shake my head slowly, looking after her with disappointment before I move my eyes to the remaining earth pony, who looked dumbfounded by the whole exchange I just had. “What about you? What would you answer?”
“Uh... not sixty-six?” he responds lamely after a moment, and I focus a moody look on him that makes him wince and scramble for a more serious answer. “Well, you know, it... it has to be taken on a case-by-case basis, I think.... it's... I mean, it's slower and not cost effective over the short term, but it gives us more options and in the long run it might help us to develop 'adoption' policies and reform the current immigration laws, which would let us bring powerful or talented demons into Valhalla and... we need the help right now, don't we?”
I look at him thoughtfully, then nod slowly. He's right. Short term loss, but in the long term it would help us refine our filtering system and immigration laws, and secure us talented, powerful minds and warriors. He's caught my interest.
I step around the podium, leaning against the side of it as I study him, and then I ask curiously: “Off-record, what is your opinion of Helheim?”
Of course, that's really a trick statement. Whether on or off record, I still assess people based on their behavior and response, and I still have hire-and-fire power. I'm not sure that Pipsqueak recognizes this, but all the same he thinks for a little while. He shifts a little back and forth, licking his lips and gazing at me uneasily, and then he finally answers in a single word: “Necessary.”
Necessary... not a bad response. Careful, more considered than it might seem at first... yes, not bad at all. He covered it well with that single word.
I study him, and he looks uncomfortably back at me, clearly aware that even if he's the only candidate left, it's no guarantee that he's going to be hired. All the same, he licks his lips slowly again before finally asking hesitantly, visibly unable to contain himself: “Lord Kvasir, sir, not to be a bother, but... uh, well... what's Order 66?”
“Order 66 authorizes the extermination of all demons on sight and the use of torture and other 'advanced interrogation techniques' to discover their associates and if other demons are inside Valhalla. It also permits the use of lethal force against any citizen of Valhalla who aids or assists a demon and suspends their civil rights indefinitely.” I say moodily, not keeping the disapproval out of my voice.
Pip swallows loudly, his eyes widening as he looks up at me, and after a moment I simply gesture to him to calm down. He does, just a little, even if he's brimming with questions still... probably about when that law was instituted, which was quite a long time ago now. I like that he has questions. I like that he's not afraid to ask. And I think I like him... well, not as a person, he's too fidgety, he seems naïve, everyone knows abut his awkward crush on 'Princess Luna...' but I like his qualities as an employee.
“You're hired. Duties begin immediately.” I say after a moment, and the earth pony's eyes slowly widen as he stares at me, mouthing slowly. I grimace a bit at this, holding up a hand and feeling a little moody. “No exaltations of joy, please. Time is money and and I need you to find Excelsior and help him finish compiling the income tax results. You will also need to head to the licensing bureau and make an appointment to update your privileges and employment. I'll have a signed letter sent to them within the hour as proof of hire.”
Pip nods violently, shutting his mouth tightly. But his cheeks are puffed out and his eyes are bright with joy, and the earth pony greatly resembles a child in his moment. I slowly lean pointedly forwards, but he's still staring at me like I'm some... shining idol of happiness or something else equally stupid and insipid. It makes me feel uncomfortable.
Finally, I clear my throat loudly and gesture irritably at him with one hand. “I believe that I just gave you an order, Pip.”
“Oh, why, yes sir! Yes, sir!” Pipsqueak squeaks, then he stumbles up to his hooves and salutes sloppily, looking at me with bright eyes as he grins widely despite his best efforts to control himself. “Yes sir, very good and right away sir!”
I sigh and shake my head slowly, then watch meditatively as he scrambles off and almost rams face-first into the door before shoving through. For a few seconds, I'm left only standing alone in the lecture hall, feeling... strange. I reach up, touch my chest, breathe slowly in that... long, long moment... and feel... sadness, yes, but also a sense of closure. I have a new assistant now, who is not Aria. It hurts, but it was necessary, and it's been dealt with, and it all feels like it's over and done with.
So... why does it still hurt? I've done everything right... well, I started and stumbled on the way, but over this process I've done the rest of it right, after how badly I screwed everything up. That just leads me to taking a mental step back, though, and thinking about how... I got into this situation in the first place. I know that I'm responsible for my own missteps, but I thought that once I corrected that and took control of my life and made things right, the sense of guilt and loss would fade. But it hasn't... it's only gotten more intense, along with that sense of longing.
Yet Terra and I... we're happy, aren't we? Yes, we are. More than that, we're good together. We're right together, and I would do anything to stay beside her, give up anything I had to, suffer through any pain for her. She and I... I don't know how or why we fit together so well, but we do.
I grumble to myself, shake my head out, and give myself the same advice that I had just given Pipsqueak. I have a job to do, and I should stop wasting my time here and get it done. It's as simple as that. All these emotions are just a distraction that I should put out of mind for now, and deal with later.
I brush myself off, then start towards the exit... but after a few steps, I halt and hesitate. There's silence for a moment as I scan the room, feeling a strange tingle at my senses, and then I turn slowly towards the left wing of the lecture hall as a too-familiar presence tickles at my mind.
Hel is sitting complacently in one of the chairs, and I look at her moodily as she gazes innocently back. There's an uncomfortable quiet, which she interrupts by saying brightly: “I like that kid. He's got lots of spunk.”
I sigh tiredly. That strikes me as a fairly transparent manipulation. “He'll make a decent employee. That's what's important in the long run.”
Hel huffs at this, complaining: “Hey, I just said I like him, and I do! No more or less, that's all there is to it. By some old dead guy, Mr. Seriouscorn, not everything is me attempting to harass or undermine you, you know.”
I grumble at this, then look grouchily over her before asking finally, despite knowing the chance of getting an honest answer is next to nil: “How long have you been here?”
“Since you totally defended the Jedi. You make a fantastic Emperor.” Hel quips, and I sigh tiredly and drop my face in one hand. “Oh shut up, I'm just having a little fun. You should really try it some time, Kvasir, get rid of some of those wrinkles.”
“I don't have time for fun.” I say distastefully, and Hel pretends to look horrified, covering her muzzle with her hands as she widens her eyes and kicks her feet childishly. It annoys me, probably much more than I should let it. “I have a lot of work to do-”
“And ladies to flirt with?” Hel asks, sudden sly and grinning, and she winks before vanishing in a puff of frost from the seat to reappear beside me in a burst of snow. Before I can react, she seizes me in one companionable, forceful arm, squeezing me against her frosty side as she grins widely down at me. “All those dirty and flirty god instincts are waking up in you, ain't that so, Kvasir? You're genetically engineered to be a man-whore. What a bitch, huh?”
“Go. Away.” I enunciate slowly and clearly, looking sourly at the goddess as I pry myself free from her unwelcome, cold grip. “Besides, Terra and I-”
“Are weird. That's like bestiality.” Hel informs me in a serious voice, and I want badly to hit her. Or choke her. Or obliterate her. Obliterating her would be nice. “Who bangalangs who, by the way? Just out of a sick discovery-channel kind of curiosity.”
I look at her for a few moments, then simply turn to leave before she finally succeeds in making me snap. But Hel is quick to leap in front of me, waggling a finger and grinning down into my face. “Now, hold up, honeybutt! I still need to have a nice, peaceful word with you. Alone.”
To emphasize her point, she snaps her fingers and seals the doors shut in a thick layering of ice. I grimace in distaste at this, then moodily turn my eyes back to Hel as she leans over me and licks her frosty lips.
“What do you want?” I finally ask, and Hel rubs her hands together eagerly. I hate this, and I hate her, and I hate that it seems like I'm just... bowing to her will, but even without the pointless show of her power... what can I do against her? Nothing. She can hound me around Valhalla however she pleases, and there's no way I can stop her... and no way I can risk going out in public if she wants to talk about sensitive information, anyway.
She eyes me like a hawk, and then she asks in a patronizing, teasing voice, unwilling as ever to be rushed: “So does this make us best friends forever now?”
I scowl at her, but it's much less effective on her than it was on the ponies who were vying for the position of my aide. It only makes her laugh, then she raises her hands and flicks them towards me dismissively. “Oh, calm down! There you go again, taking everything so damn seriously! You're going to have a hernia at this rate, Kvasir, or at least get some really bad hemorrhoids.”
“Will you please just tell me what you want?” I ask waspishly,and Hel sniffs disdainfully and crosses her arms, pouting like a child. “I really don't have the time for this right now. Unlike you, I can't simply delegate all my tasks to tyrannical overlords or let my kingdom float in chaos.”
“My kingdom doesn't float in chaos. It doesn't float at all.” Hel retorts, and I close my eyes and rub slowly at my temples before the goddess pauses and pushes a finger against her chin, looking up thoughtfully. “Wait, it's made of ice. Okay, so it might float after all. Still, you're... you're a poo head.”
I can't explain entirely why that of all things... gets to me so much. Why that, of all the insults and threats and intimidation, makes boil over. I grit my teeth, desperately clinging to control, but it lasts all of a moment before I finally glare up at her furiously and shout as I completely lose my temper: “Look, you stupid, ignorant bitch, I am not your little puppet on a string and you are not welcome to show up and strut around like you own the place whenever you please! Either get to the point and say what you want to say, or get the hell out of Heaven, or I swear to Mimir's head that I will kick your ass out of the Gates myself and leave your puppet in Asgard to be eaten by the primal spirits!”
There's silence for a few moments and I breathe hard in and out and Hel stares down at me, and then she leans slowly down and presses almost nose-to-nose with me. We look at each other as I rapidly feel my temper fading and embarrassment and... maybe a faint sense of shame filling my system instead, and then Hel says kindly: “Don't be mad, Kvasir. You lasted a lot longer than any other god apart from Baldur before I finally made you snap. Good, you have limits. You have an ugly side, like we all do, and I've just made you show that and acknowledge that. Don't apologize, honeybutt. It's a pleasure to get you pissed off.”
I glare at her, and she smiles at me before reaching up and poking my nose, making me grumble and rear back. But there's no magic or enchantment or hex or even pain, it's just a poke from a cold finger. “Okay, honeybutt. You want to know what I want? I'll tell you what I want, then. I want to strike a meeting with Gymbr, but... after he's recovered. And I'm gonna show up in my feast-day best, you better believe it, and I'll act like just the sweetest little girl you ever did meet.
“Sure, I've passed him before. Had a conversation now and then with him, but... always careful to keep my distance, between the bars, on the other side of a heavily insulated bunker.” Hel smiles slightly and reaches up to tap her stomach lightly. “Gymbr and I... well, we don't like each other much, but we're friends by necessity. And oh, believe me. I would have loved to have screwed with him somehow, modified that soulstone orb to make him my little pony... but there's a problem with that I don't think you've considered. It's that Gymbr would know, and would either scratch out those charms or possibly... well, find me and have a nasty word with me.
“Look, I know that I'm omnipotent and omniscient and omni-lots.” Hel stretches, showing off her gangly body and making me grimace before the goddess touches her stomach, becoming... serious. I don't like that she becomes serious. “But do you know why I stopped following Vally-wally around? Because he and I had a little falling out after he managed to do this.”
She shoves a hand into her own stomach, and it ripples with silver light, and I stare for a moment as Hel quickly draws her arm back... but her stomach continues to ripple, for a moment revealing a portal. A portal on the other side of which is a throne, surrounded by screens and orbs and strings and magic, and in which sits an emaciated figure of a woman, a shape that-
It's gone. The frost puppet, is just a solid puppet again, with the window that had occupied its stomach completely vanished. And as I look up at Hel, she grins a little. “I just showed you, sweetie, that I'm not... a hundred percent secure. Oh, sure. Reversing the link that I control my puppets through, that takes creativity and a hell of a lot of juice. Maybe... oh... one in a million could manage it, and even then it'd likely be through luck. You need Jötnar -level powers, if not beyond, to produce that kind of effect.
“But Gymbr... he has those powers. And for a little while he was a complete goddamn lunatic, with his brain falling apart first, and all those animal instincts, those bad boy instincts, taking over.” Hel pauses, then she touches herself and smiles. “So, you know... avoidance is bliss, because ignorance is lethal. So yeah, I was very, very eager to help you get his sanity back in control. And it's funny, because even though it might knock me out of top-dog position, I want to help you get control of Gymbr, too. Mostly because I don't think you'll use him to kill me. I mean, I'm paranoid and I got anxiety like you wouldn't believe, Kvasir, but I'm still capable of rationalizing stuff out perfectly well. It just takes a tick or two.”
She's quiet, and then she exaggeratedly gnaws on the inside of her cheek for a few moments as I frown at her, trying to understand what she's saying. And then, for once, Hel simply looks down and says it: “Fix him, or put him down. I'll help you with either decision you make, and personally... a god like this is too good to just put down, I think. That's why I tried to get Vally-wally to stop trying to implement his endless reign of stupid. He and I, we could've been best friends. Instead, he chose to be enemies. Which is why I decided to stop helping him with all his schemes. Not that he ever really noticed, arrogant son of a bitch as he was.”
She clicks her tongue, then looks down at me and pets me a few times, making me grimace and wince away. “So I'm real glad we're friends, and you're not as much a jerk as he is. Or was. Is? It's hard to say... Jötnar don't die, after all, they just dissolve slowly over time in the Void. But there's a lot of us that death really has no power over, if you stop and think about it. And that's really too bad, because death takes and gives. The Void just gobbles us up, and we... dissolve. Poof.”
Hel spins slowly in a circle, her ice puppet breaking apart into pieces that dissolve into motes, floating slowly upwards as she all-but-evaporates... and then I wince when her hands seize into my shoulders from behind, the reformed puppet leaning over me and saying cheerfully: “But here's hoping it'll be a long time before that happens to either of us, right Kvasir? I mean, you and Terra have still gotta work out this whole... thing... between you two.”
“Please don't talk about my relationship with her.” I say moodily, and then I carefully brush her hands off my shoulders and turn around to look at her with a grimace. “You just revealed that you have a glaring vulnerability through the very thing you act through. You already apparently know that I'm recording most of this information in a sort of log, and I long ago stopped lying to myself that you're not aware of everything else that goes on inside of Valhalla. You also act insane, but I have no doubt you're aware of the possible repercussions of your actions.”
“Yeah, because, you know, I don't have fifty other layers of security enabled between me and that glaring vulnerability, which again, can't really be accessed by anyone apart from Gymbr. Which makes it a little less 'glaring' and a little more... uh... 'peephole.'” Hel pauses, then she leans forwards and pushes a finger against my nose. “Also, I like fair play, or at least the illusion of it. All my cards are on the table, all your cards are on the table. It makes it all the more surprising when I pull out an ace in the hole or you manage to keep some secret actually secret.”
“I suppose that all goes back to your idea of 'fun.'” I'm unable to stop myself from saying, and Hel nods brightly several times and claps as if in approval. “Wonderful.”
“I think it is too!” Hel cheers, thrusting her arms into the air, and I roll my eyes before turning towards the ice covered doors, and Hel huffs as she follows after me, tripping over her own dress as she whines: “I'm not done yet, listen to me!”
I sigh and roll my eyes, then stop... and then I'm knocked stumbling forwards, cursing and pinwheeling my arms, when Hel walks right into my back. She squawks and topples back on her own rump as I stumble around in a circle, glaring at her as one of my eyes twitch.
We glower at each other, and then I slowly brush myself out before reaching up towards the tie I forget isn't there. My fingers instead brush against my throat before quickly shifting to neaten my collar, as I mutter: “Let's just get this over with.”
“Fine, fine. If you want to be such a big girl about it.” Hel complains, and I give her a sour look before the goddess suddenly smiles up at me and pops up to her feet. “I have a proposal for you that you're going to like. A new treaty between Heaven and Hell.”
I glare at her distrustfully, but Hel only grins at me and shakes her head firmly. “No, listen to me, okay? I know you've been letting those Pious build their... gross little temples, and I know that no one's really a fan of them. So how about you let me set up an Archive checkpoint in Looking Glass World and here in Valhalla? I know you've got plenty of open rooms still in the castle: we'll build a whole demonic wing!”
She stops, giggles at the stupid pun, snorts like a child, and then clears her throat loudly when she catches my ill look. “Hey, you know what I mean.”
“Why would I want more demons wandering around Valhalla?” I ask moodily, even though the answer is probably obvious to us both.
But to my surprise, Hel chooses a different tactic, sliding forwards and leaning down as she says kindly: “Because we'll include a full-scale portal between Heaven and Helheim... Helheim's Archives, to be precise. And I'll grant you and a few other friends, like the Valkyries, full Archive privileges and access. Hundreds of thousands of years of accumulated history and power, waiting to be tapped and read and investigated... how does that sound for my end of the bargain?”
I'm silent, and then I look up and ask quietly: “Why are you offering me this?”
Hel looks at me... and then she leans slowly down and says softly: “Because if something goes wrong... if the Void should rip open, if Gymbr goes looney-tunes, if our best friends turn into our worst enemies... then you, and Brynhild, are my backup plan. But I gotta give you guys incentives to want to protect me, to want to get behind me, to recognize me as an ally instead of an expendable asset because I'm the most powerful thing in existence 'round here. I'm no front line hero, sweetie.”
There's silence for a few moments, and then I finally sigh quietly and lower my head, closing my eyes as I murmur: “I'll think about it, Hel. I'll have my response sent to you tomorrow.”
“Send it by special courier. Send it by Antares Mīrus and his squeeze, Valkyrie Prestige.” Hel instructs eagerly, and I glare up at her. I'm tempted to remind her she's in no position to give orders like that, but I know I'd just be kidding myself... that, and it's a funny request, even for her. After all, if either of them were injured in Helheim, she could kiss any possible alliance with Brynhild goodbye. Which means... “Oh, they'll be safe, you stick in the mud.”
I sigh and shake my head slowly, and there's silence for a few moments before Hel absently flicks her wrist, the ice melting away from the doors as she says positively: “We had a great talk, friend. I think we covered a lot of information, and got a lot dealt with, and I think we're entering a brand new era here. You just watch yourself, though, Kvasir... one itty-bitty misstep, after all, could send everything toppling into the sea. You don't want that, and neither do I: I want us to be around for a long, long time together.”
With that, Hel pets me again before she vanishes in a burst of blue, chilling smoke, and I grimace backwards from this before sighing quietly and shaking my head slowly. I look at where Hel was a moment before, then turn around and head towards the door, shaking myself out a little. I feel... less than comfortable with the way things have gone, and her warning...
It sounds so loud in my head, and worse... so true. Things are on a razor's edge... and they are, aren't they? At any moment, something could happen, something could send the whole world upside down: the Pious could turn on us, the gods I've allied with could withdraw their support or betray Valhalla, and worst of all, there's the threat that Gymbr poses, if he...
No, I don't want to think about that. Gymbr is... in a strange way, he's my friend. I want to believe in that. So instead, I breathe slowly in and out, and I steady myself before walking out into the hall, muttering: “I have to prepare that letter for the licensing agency and... then I should attend to these other tasks on my agenda. At least now I have a new assistant to help out with that.”
That's right, isn't it? Silver linings, to every dark cloud and all that... except if there's only dark clouds lingering overhead, maybe it's a little naïve to try and find a little brightness amidst all the murk instead of preparing for the inevitable thunderstorm.
I think about that for a moment, and whether or not it's something I should be doing right now: getting ready for the thunderstorm. I shiver a little at this thought, then close my eyes and lower my head, and wonder silently whether or not I will be. I take comfort, at least, in the thought that even if something does go wrong... I'll leave behind this record. I feel like something is coming, after all, something is going to happen, whether it's days, months, or years away.
I only hope that I'm prepared for it when the time comes, and that when it does happen... my last words, my last actions, will be something better to remember me by than the rest of this narrative has shown so far. I only hope that if in life I don't prove I am a worthy successor to Odin... when my story ends, I'll go out with even a sliver of the strength and nobility that my mentor did.