Gaul stands slowly, a little stiff from the sitting position he had adopted. 

“I am Gaul Giantsbane, Last King of the Aesir, Ruler of Asgard, Warden of the Nine Realms.” As he speaks, his mind mulls over their conversation, thinking of ways to tackle the problem before them. He isn’t sure what formal custom Blaze is invoking, but he trusts the fox king. 

Unknown Land

A full moon casts gloomy light over a large mead hall in a frost-covered forest of dead trees. Standing in the half-opened doorway is a bare-chested man who seems to cast his own corona of light upon his surroundings. He shuts the door and meanders back inside, stopping to cast a half-interested glance at a strange throne set in the center of the feasting hall. He runs his hand over the furs draped over the seat, half of them the harsh white of the winter wolf and the other half as black as midnight. From the darkness at the edge of the room, a female voice rings out. 

“I see you’ve made your way back here. After you rejected my generous offer I did not expect you to return. And yet...here you are.” The voice is like dusky velvet scraping across gravel, a perfect representation of who she is. She steps from the shadows and traces a long, gnarled fingernail across the man’s collarbone. “What are you doing here, Baldur? I have not the patience for your silence.”

Baldur seems to find his voice. “I am here to plead with you for the release of my wife.” Before she can refuse, he speaks again, “I offer myself in her place. Simply release her, and I am yours.”

She pulls back the cowl that covers her face to reveal the terrible visage beneath. Her face is divided right down the center, one side a grotesque skull with bits of rotting and dried flesh clinging to the bone, and the other is the vibrant face of a young woman, as beautiful as the other is revolting. Hel, Goddess of Death, smiles. 

“So you wish to bargain with me? How quaint.” She spreads her mummified hand across Baldur’s chest. “You did not like my offer to spend eternity together, presiding over the souls of those killed in Ragnarok. Why the sudden change of heart? Do you think that the act of freeing your dead wife from her eternal slumber to walk in the land of the living, far from my halls, would somehow quell the trepidation you feel regarding marrying the Queen of the Damned?” She cackles. “I told you before that your vows were broken the second you crossed into Helheim, null and void. Til death do us part is quite a literal term of the contract. You died, Ragnarok came for the Aesir, and I offered you everything. You turned your nose up at me, no doubt in the hopes that the two of you would be reunited here.”

A deafening silence falls upon the hall. After a long moment, Hel speaks again. 

“I will grant your wish, but only after our vows are [i]consumated[/i]. It would not do for you to back out of your end of our bargain.” She strides to her throne, and gracefully sits upon it. “Do you find these terms agreeable, favored son of Odin?”

Baldur, to his credit, does not hesitate. “I do.”