Hel’s not so bad…the place or the person.

I was born of Frigg and sired by Odin, younger brother to Thor…yes, that Thor. Being the youngest, mom was always a bit overprotective. She was always calling me her ‘fair beauty’ and bragging about my bravery. She even named a flower after me called Baldr’s Brow [or more commonly Mayweed…flattering, right?]. Needless to say, when mom wasn’t around, life could be rough with the other gods.

When I had grown a bit, I started having the dreams. I dreamt of my death. They weren’t clear dreams like some have where they can see exactly what’s going to happen and how, no, they were the gloomy dark dreams with people laughing and shouting and you just knew it would all end badly. Frankly it was pretty depressing. I was muddling through until mom started having the dreams too.

She told dad, and Thor, and of course everyone had to make a big deal over it. Oh no! Dreams are true foretellings! His death is the harbinger of Ragnarok! The good news was that mom made Thor stop hitting me with Mjolnir…at least for a while. When he would try she would yell, ‘Thor! Do you want to start Ragnarok?!?’ It would have been funny if I didn’t know he’d find a way to get me later.

Mom decided to embark on a campaign to get EVERYTHING to agree not to hurt me. She dragged me around from god to god, animal to animal, plant to plant and so on until she got everything to agree. Nothing would hurt me…they’d promised Frigg and NO ONE wanted to piss her off.

That’s when things got really bad.

Since everything had agreed not to hurt me, she got back to her other hobbies secure in the knowledge that I was safe. I started a new fad in Valhalla. Well, Thor started it actually. It was called Baldr Toss. Basically everyone, and I mean everyone [I even saw dad there a time or two], would throw things at me…constantly. It didn’t matter what I was doing, or where I was, anyone who saw me would toss whatever happened to be near at hand at me…as hard as they could.  Near as I can tell, the object was to get me to jump out of my skin.  At least that was when they laughed the most. I was finally popular.

It turns out though that mom had forgotten to ask one thing…just one…to be nice to me.  Mistletoe. Cute, harmless mistletoe. I guess she thought it just wouldn’t or couldn’t hurt me…or maybe by then she was just bored.  Either way, it never made promises.

I guess Loki must’ve followed us around as mom was extracting promises and put two and two together because I hear he’s the one who made it…the spear.  All I know is that one day, as I was doing my best not to jump at the flying projectiles [I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction and frankly I was getting way to used to having things thrown at me], I was struck, and killed by a spear.  Everyone was sooo shocked! Mom was t’d off!

Me? I was off to visit Hel, and get away from the rest of the family until Ragnarok! It is so nice to get away. No one throws things at me anymore, and everyone pretty much minds their own business here. I have met some great people, and no one compares me to Thor. I did have a brief scare when mom started trying to convince Hel to let me go back home. Luckily I’d had a long talk with Hel about what it was like at home and so Hel really negotiated hard [no one says no to Frigg!]. Hel agreed to let me go if EVERYTHING wept for me. Mom did a phenomenal job. She convinced rocks to weep, that rascally mistletoe, dwarves, gods…she came so close.  In the end, just the female giantess Thokk refused, and I got to stay. So here I sit in Hel, where it’s quiet and peaceful, until Ragnarok when Thor’s sons and I will rule the New World.

Rumor has it that Thokk was really Loki in disguise. Hel only winks when I ask her if her dad had anything to do with it.  When all is said and done, I don’t care what the other’s say, Loki, you rock!

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