Hod (shadowedson) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2017-04-01 01:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | freyr, hod |
there on the sun, so bright & young
Who: Freyr & Hodr
What: Loki's fall guy gets a visitor in prison.
Where: dreamy Valhalla
When: way, way back
Freyr mourned Baldr's death, as did they all. But unlike most, he had not allowed his mourning to blind him to the entirety of their loss. One among them was dead, but another was now as good as that: confined to his quarters, a prisoner in his own home, awaiting his now inevitable fate. Freyr could not reconcile himself to this. Even having seen the murder, having himself participated in the foolish revelry that had led up to it, he could not altogether abandon Hodr. Not until hearing his side.
A guard was posted at each entrance to Hodr's quarters. This did not trouble Freyr, who passed through them like a man accustomed to having his way. He walked the corridors of Hodr's prison, and felt the weight on his heart grow heavier with every step into that silent loneliness. Warmth and light followed him as he searched the empty rooms, calling out his kindred's name. At last he found him, alone in the relative darkness.
"Hodr," he called, his voice soft. He lingered by the door, strong fingers wrapped around the frame as he leaned just inside. "May I come in?"
Even before he spoke, Hodr felt the other god’s presence. The warmth, the feeling of content, the brightness that even he could sense was nothing like Baldr’s light, yet, for a moment, Hodr almost let himself believe the impossible.
At Freyr’s words he raised his head towards the doorway briefly in acknowledgment, then let it drop again. Beyond that he made no move to leave his current position, large frame huddled dejectedly in a corner, legs drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them and chin resting atop his knees. It looked as if he might have been there for days without moving. Platters of food sat untouched on a nearby table. His tunic was the same one that he had been wearing on the day Baldr died. His voice sounded harsh and raw, worn with weeping, then forgotten entirely.
“Freyr. What do you want?”
"To speak with you," Freyr said, "if you'll allow me." He moved deeper into the room. Chairs stood neatly around the table, not a single one pulled out. No visitors had come, a fact which did not surprise Freyr, but did disappoint him, all the same. He drew a chair from beneath the broad table, pulling it round to face his kin. A second soon joined it, scraping rough against the floor.
Freyr leaned down. Warmth radiated from his hand, though it stopped just short of taking Hodr's own: an invitation, rather than a demand. "Join me, please. Just for a while."
For a long while it looked as though Hodr was deliberately ignoring Freyr. Then he abruptly grabbed the offered hand and pulled himself up, wincing and wobbling unsteadily as he stood on his feet once more. He had always been tall and strongly built, but days of heavy grief had visibly worn him. Though he would never know battle like his fellow Aesir, the expression on his haggard face showed plainly that he had been warring with demons of his own recently.
“What is there to speak about?” Hodr asked, letting go of Freyr’s palm and leaving a few flakes of dried blood behind. Both of his hands were covered with a collection of fading cuts and bruises. They were all but healed for the most part, but the far side of the chamber was a testament to how they had been acquired. Furniture and trinkets lay smashed and scattered on the floor, while the wall looked as though something had attacked it. “No one else wants to speak.”
"I am not concerned with what they want. Not right now."
Freyr took one empty chair, leaving the one nearest Hodr free. He studied the blood like rust on his hand, as though he might read their fates in those dry, red lines. He wiped his hands, and the blood fell to dust, drifting to the floor. His bright gaze returned to the prisoner, searching his drawn face.
"I want to hear what happened. From you."
Hodr remained standing, head bowed slightly. It was an unconsciously childlike pose; the sort of thing that had been repeated countless times in the past before Odin or his mother after some minor youthful mischief. Only now he didn't have Baldr at his side to defend and explain.
“You saw what happened. Please don't make me say it again.”
A hard lump rose in Freyr's throat. Several attempts at swallowing around it did not appear to dislodge it, but Freyr carried on all the same. "I saw," he said, "but I don't know. To say it was unlike you is a gross understatement. But there are explanations for everything -- not justifications, mind you, only explanations -- if we care enough to seek them." His voice was quiet, but too firm to be ignored. "Would you deny me the chance to fully understand?"
“But even I don't understand,” Hodr said, his voice rising in desperation. He was too tired to be frantic, but the remnants of earlier frustration were still there. “I did what everyone else was doing. I wanted to join in. I thought... I thought he would be pleased.”
Baldr might have been pleased. It would have been so like him to enjoy seeing their quiet brother taking part in their good-natured fun. So often they had all gotten drunk beyond sense, so playful and childish while their sightless sibling hung cautiously back. It should have been cause for celebration. Instead it had gone the way it had, and now nothing would be the same again.
"Why… why did you choose what you did? Such a small thing, while the rest of us found weapons and whole furnishings and…" Freyr shook his head. For a moment he fell silent, his hand coming to rest over his golden-tanned face. If he let slip any tears, they made no sound. "Why that, Hodr? Why the one thing…"
Freyr’s tears may have made no sound, but Hodr was good at judging silences and filling them with meaning. When Freyr paused he knew, he just knew, what the reason for it was and it made everything all the worse. Uncomfortable, he worried at his lip for a moment before continuing.
“Loki said that it would be easier for him to help me aim if it was something small and light. I thought that… that as long as I threw something it wouldn't matter what it was. It would be enough.”
"Loki," Freyr said. Tears thickened his voice, but all the emotion that roiled in that single word was plain all the same. His hands curled at his thighs. The crescents of his nails bit into his flesh, drawing blood from bronzed skin. For a time it seemed he would not speak again. And then:
"And did you find this small, light thing yourself," he asked, "or did he provide it for you?"
A thousand thoughts rushed through Freyr's mind as he reached for each scrap of proof, each shred of innocence. Already he was forming what arguments he might make in his brother's name.You were drunk. The light was low. It could have happened to any of us. His heart already told him Loki would face no real retribution. He never did. "Think very carefully, Hodr."
“He gave it to me.” Hodr hardly needed to think at all to answer. He could still remember the moment perfectly. The feel of the innocuous little dart as it was pressed into his palm. Loki’s voice, so clever and reassuring. The way he had helpfully guided him through the crowd, the way he pointed him in the right direction, held lightly onto his arm as he prepared to throw.
“He gave it to me, but surely he wouldn't…. He couldn't have known…” Hodr’s voice faltered. The argument sounded even more hollow now that he said it aloud.
"Couldn't he." Freyr's voice was damningly, uncharacteristically cold. His throat felt tight, as though held in some giant's tight grip. He did not realize he had clenched his jaw until he heard the scraping of his teeth inside his head. Slowly he relaxed, withdrawing one nail at a time from his own flesh. The wounds healed quickly, leaving behind nothing but small silvery lines, then nothing at all. Would that all injuries were so easily taken away.
"You said he offered to help you aim. Did he?"
“Didn't you see?”
But that was a fool’s question. Why would anyone have been watching him? Baldr had been there. The perfect son at the center of a happy, adoring crowd. Hodr knew then and knew now that not a soul there that day had cared about his presence until the moment that everything went so horribly wrong. Except for Loki. And hadn't he slipped away so quickly afterwards? Where was Loki when that crowd turned to find the slayer of their joy?
“He did.” Hodr sighed and raised his head as if he might meet Freyr’s eyes. He shivered and hugged his arms around himself, clutching tightly as if he could hold in the guilt and the grief through sheer force. “I'm a fool. I know it.”
The chair creaked as Freyr rose to his feet. This time, he did not hesitate. He pulled Hodr to him, embracing him so tightly it seemed he feared his kin might somehow slip away. In truth, Hodr already seemed lost.
"You are," Freyr said. "But so are we all."
Hodr stiffened, caught between wanting to flee from any sign of pity and wanting to hoard any scrap of sympathy that was offered. In the end the need for contact, for a hint of understanding no matter how slight, won and the embrace was returned. There was desperation in the way he clung to Freyr, his arms almost bruisingly tight. Guilt and anger and a howling, crushing grief were still coursing through him and there was no way out.
“Yes, but none of you killed him,” he finally managed to choke out, his face buried against Freyr’s warm shoulder.
"We may as well have." Freyr pressed one hand to Hodr's nape, frowning deeper at the feel of the too-thin shape beneath his touch, the small ridges of bone that should not have been so prominent. He sighed, exhausted to his very core, and knowing full well no rest would be forthcoming. He spoke softly, though he did not fear being overheard. This promise was for Hodr and Hodr alone, and he wanted his brother to know that it was not said for show.
"I can promise nothing," he said, "but I will stand for you. If it is in my power, Loki will pay for this at least as dearly as you do." He withdrew only enough to press his forehead to Hodr's. Hodr could not see the gesture, but Freyr trusted him to feel it, to know, as he stared into his kin's unseeing eyes. "Odin will demand justice, but I will make him see the full depth and breadth of what that means."
At Freyr’s words, Hodr’s breath hitched involuntarily and his grip tightened. There was only one possible punishment for what he had done. All the treasures in all the nine realms could never replace Baldr. No weregild could ever be enough. And to have been killed by a brother…. It went against every law, written and unwritten, spoken and unspoken. The past few days had given Hodr ample time to think about it and each outcome was just as grim as the last.
“I know what it means.” His voice was resigned, though his actions betrayed how he truly felt. All the time in the world couldn't prepare him for what was surely coming. “I just wonder who it will be.”
Freyr shook his head. "I don't know, but it will not be one of us. I cannot see another brother bear what you do now. Perhaps no-one will take on such a task." Perhaps you can yet be free. Foolish optimist though he was, even Freyr did not dare speak such a thing. It would be difficult enough to ensure Loki suffered for what he had done. He smoothed a hand over Hodr's hair, gone dull from his imprisonment and his own lack of care.
"Do not focus on that. Your deceiver will pay. And his daughter is more merciful than most understand. You will be with Baldr again."
“He always does go first.” Hodr tried to smile, but the expression didn't quite ring true. It was more a strained twisting of his lips than anything else. “From the very beginning. Perhaps this is fitting.” It was true. Baldr always had gone ahead while Hodr trailed behind; the necessary shadow to his sunlight. From the moment of their birth, throughout their youth, and now in this…. It was inevitable that he would eventually follow where his twin led.
For the first time in days, Freyr smiled. It was a sad thing, bereft of its usual glow, but it was sincere all the same. He gave Hodr a tight squeeze and released him, his hands resting curled around his upper arms. "He will greet you by her side," he said. "I am sure of it."