Metis sighed. "There truly is no precedent for 'male gods naturally becoming pregnant and giving birth.' Gods can change their gender or create life through other means, but for a male god to use their own body as a vessel to gestate offspring contradicts the fundamental laws of most worlds."
Baldr's heart clenched.
"But," Hades interjected, "laws can be rewritten, especially in this specific case."
He approached the dark mirror beside his throne and placed his hand upon it.
The mirror rippled, revealing a real-time image of the New World Tree.
Beneath the tree, three faint halos were barely visible, resonating with the fluctuations emanating from Baldr's body.
"They chose you, Baldr, which indicates your body has been altered on a fundamental, lawful level to carry them," Hades analyzed.
"Currently, we need to understand not 'how to reverse the impossible,' but 'how to ensure a smooth gestation under these circumstances.'"
Metis nodded. "I need time to study this. Týr, Baldr, return for now. Baldr, prioritize rest and avoid expending significant divine energy. I will have the physician Asclepius examine you regularly. Týr, you are responsible for his care, especially ensuring Höðr and Nanna do not learn of this prematurely."
Týr saluted solemnly. "Understood."
After they left, only Hades and Metis remained between the thrones.
Hades gazed at the World Tree's image in the mirror, lost in thought.
"Loki's final move," Metis said, approaching him.
"He hid his children's essences within the ashes, betting that when the World Tree was reborn, someone would absorb these conceptual cores. Wasn't he afraid the fire would consume everything utterly?"
"He knew the World Tree," Hades replied. "Knew its essence was difficult to destroy completely. He also knew me—or at least, the quality of 'Narcissus': the reclamation of valuable existences. He calculated that I would salvage the World Tree's remnants, that it would take root in a new world, and that his offspring would have a chance to be reborn in a new form."
"A mad plan," Metis commented, yet with a glint of admiration in her eyes. "But also exquisite. Now, these three children are born into the Underworld, conceived by the god of light, and will grow under Hades's watchful eye... It's perhaps the most ironic possible reconciliation of ancient grievances."
Hades was silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Do you think Baldr can endure this?"
"Physiologically, with our oversight, we won't allow anything to happen to him."
"Psychologically... it's a trial. But Baldr has survived death and rebirth; he is stronger than he appears. And he has Týr by his side."
"Týr and..." Metis smiled knowingly. "Subtle, isn't it?"
Hades did not respond.
He turned back towards his throne, then paused, remembering something. "How goes it with Prometheus?"
Metis's smile faded. "Still in his chambers, barely emerging. Catia visited him once. They sat in silence. He is processing the cost, preparing for the next step."
"Who will be the second?"
"I don't know," Metis admitted honestly. "Ever since we broke the cycle of reincarnation, everything has become interwoven. But I feel it... soon."
---
Baldr's palace was situated in the northeastern corner of the Underworld, a structure of luminous crystal and silver metal. Its style clashed with the surrounding Underworld architecture, yet it was inexplicably harmonious.
When Týr escorted Baldr back, Höðr was sitting on the steps by the entrance, his blind eyes seemingly 'gazing' in the direction from which they had come.
"Baldr," Höðr stood, his voice unnervingly soft. "Where have you been? I've been looking for you everywhere."
Baldr's body tensed, and he instinctively took half a step back. Týr stepped forward, placing himself between them. "I'm taking him to rest. Höðr, Baldr needs some peace."
"Rest?" Höðr tilted his head, his empty eyes 'fixed' on Týr. "Týr, why do you always stand between us? What is your relationship with Baldr?"
The question caught both gods off guard.
A faint blush crept onto Baldr's cheeks.
Týr frowned. "We are brothers. Comrades in arms."
"Really?" Höðr let out a soft, humourless laugh. He took a step forward, moving around Týr, and reached out towards Baldr.
Baldr flinched away.
"Höðr, I'm very tired," Baldr's voice was pleading. "Please, just let me be alone for a while, alright?"
Höðr's hand stopped mid-air.
After a long moment, he slowly withdrew it. The smile on his face turned cold. "Of course, brother. You always need to be 'alone.' Nanna is waiting for you in the garden. She said she prepared a calming herbal tea for you. Since you're tired, go to her."
He turned and walked away.
Baldr sighed with relief, but then frowned again. "Nanna's herbal tea... She always puts in too much soothing herb. I'd sleep for three days after drinking it."
"I'll speak with her." Týr pushed the door open and gestured for Baldr to enter. "Rest now. Don't come out."
Baldr nodded and headed towards his bedchamber.
Týr made his way to the small garden behind the palace. There, Nanna was carefully tending to several Underworld plants that glowed with a soft, pale blue light.
Seeing Týr, she smiled and offered a salute. "Lord Týr, has Baldr returned? I was just brewing some tea."
"He's sleeping," Týr said, striving to keep his voice gentle. "Nanna, I know you care for him deeply, but his physical condition has become somewhat... unique lately. He needs to minimize external influences. Please, refrain from giving him the herbal tea for now, alright?"
The smile on Nanna's face dimmed. "Unique? Is he ill? I can care for him, I—"
"He's not ill," Týr interrupted. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to reveal a portion of the truth. "It's a kind of... transformation. Lord Hades and Lady Metis are studying it. Until he recovers, he needs quiet and solitude."
Nanna stared at Týr, a sharpness flickering in her gentle eyes. "Lord Týr, is there some secret between you and Baldr?"
Týr's headache intensified.
Höðr's paranoia, Nanna's sensitivity—how long could the secret of Baldr's pregnancy possibly be kept?
"There is no secret, only a physician's orders," he insisted. "Please believe that everything I do is for Baldr's well-being."
Nanna was silent for a long time, finally nodding. "I understand. Then... please, at least allow me to see him every day. Even if it's just a few words through the door. I need to know he is alright."
The request was reasonable. Týr agreed.
Returning to Baldr's bedchamber, Týr found him not asleep, but sitting by the window, gazing out at the eternal twilight of the Underworld sky, one hand resting gently on his lower abdomen.
"Are they gone?" Baldr asked quietly.
"For now," Týr approached and leaned against the window frame. "But I cannot hide this for long. Especially once your body begins to change."
Baldr smiled bitterly. "What will change? A growing belly? Or..." He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Will I die? Die in childbirth, like a mortal woman?"
"No," Týr answered categorically. "Hades and Metis will not allow that. Asclepius is the god of medicine; he will ensure your safety."
Baldr turned to face Týr, his eyes—once as bright as the sun—now filled with confusion. "Týr, why do you help me so much? We were... before..."
Týr fell silent.
He looked out the window, at the distant waters of the Styx reflecting a faint light.
"Because you are my brother. Baldr, part of the responsibility for your death rests with me. If I had not believed Loki's lies, if I had not..."
"It wasn't your fault," Baldr whispered. "We were all just pieces on the board. Höðr, me, you... even my father."
"Perhaps," Týr said. "But the fact remains, I bound Fenrir with my own hand, and the shards of that blade killed you. It is a sin I must atone for all my life. Protecting you, ensuring you live well in this new world—that is my salvation."
Baldr looked at him, tears welling in his eyes. "I don't need your salvation, Týr. I just need a friend. A friend who won't smother me with love, who won't bind me with sacrifice."
Týr's heart stirred.
He reached out a hand, hesitated for a moment, and finally placed it on Baldr's shoulder. "Then, my friend, rest well. I'll be right next door. Call me if you need anything."
He turned and quietly closed the bedchamber door behind him.
Leaning against the doorframe, Týr heard a very soft sigh from within, followed by the rustle of fabric—Baldr lying down.
Týr closed his eyes.
Friend.
Such a simple word, yet more complex than 'brother.'