Gods and mortals

Hunt & Death

A.N.
Yes, finally our boy will meet the two tyrannical queens. It is as this point, that I would like to remind my dear readers, that things are going to start getting dark.

Unknown location...

Blackness.

That was all that Brogr could see, and nothing else.

He was awake, he was aware of that, but he found himself unable to open his eyes.
Did he still have eyes? Was he dead? Those were some of the questions that kept swirling in his head.

Strangely enough, he felt at peace... as a matter of fact, he felt relaxed.
This did not seem to be Valhalla, or if it was, then the Allfather's teachings were wrong, or, they were more likely lies, meant to brainwash the asgardians.

But then, he heard something. It moved around him; he heard several things actually, and as he tried to listen, the noises grew clearer.

Brogr willed himself to open his eyes, and slowly, he did just that. It was a struggle to keep them open, for they felt heavy and exhausted, but he pushed through it anyways, and was met with a wall of pure white.

The wall did not remain a wall: with the speed of a snail, it warped and changed its appearance.
Brogr was not facing a wall anymore, he was facing a stone ceiling; a very intricately and detailed ceiling, lined with runes and gold.

But if he was staring at the ceiling, that meant that he was lying down on his back.
The smith breathed out a little, surprised that he still had the ability to do so. He felt numb all over: his limbs wouldn't respond to his commands, and what was more was the fact that he could not even feel them.
He could not feel anything, except for the drowsiness that seemed to swirl in and around him. But as his senses began to better themselves, he also realized  that something was trailing along his skin.
Brogr could not move more than an inch, even if he tried with all of his might, but there definitely something that was being passed over his body.

It felt, strange, for a lack of a better term, almost as if it was sinking into his very flesh and snaking its way into his veins.

Brogr attempted to look down, but was still unable to do so. He decided to simply lay there, and wait until he reacquired his movement.

To be be completely honest, it wasn't all that bad. Slowly, his last memories came back, and he began to remember it all: the battle, the giants, the demons, and all of the blood, Norns, there was so much of it.

Dotta, Rota, Erik, Skyapper, he had seen them die in horrific manners, swallowed by the hordes of enemies. He could recall the searing flames that had burned his flesh, and the toxic fumes of smoke that had poisoned his lungs; and the overwhelming amount of demons, of how they would use their weapons to viciously attack him, or simply claw and bite away at the steel.

He surely thought that that was to be the end, but against all odds, by a miracle given to him by the Norns, he was still in the lands of the living.

But it would seem as if his mind had yet to fully recover from the traumatic experience, for his memories began to flash, and his view lost its focus. The pounding of a headache was fast approaching, and the thing that covered him turned warm, almost cocooning him into a blanket, willing him to the peaceful realm of slumber.

A primal, instinctual feeling made itself know, and for the first time in what seemed to be forever, Brogr felt safe, safe to sleep in this gentle embrace. The last time he had ever felt this way, he had been with... his mother...

She would hold him close, hugging him to her lap and would softly pet his hair, letting her hands trail through his messy dark brown curls. And she would hum a rhythm, biding him to close his eyes and listen to her voice.