From The Immortal Gazette Studio ⚜️

Forgotten Tales, Twisted Truths & Legends told by Alice, Rumple, and their ever-growing cast of troublemakers.

The Ballad of Balder: A Trickster's Delight

The Immortal Gazette studio had acquired an unusual guest.

No one seemed particularly surprised.

A magnificent white raven sat atop one of the towering bookcases, looking thoroughly offended by everyone's existence. Thorn claimed it had wandered in on its own. Rumple insisted it was spying for Odin. Alice maintained it had simply realized this was the loudest building in Grimmveil and decided to watch the inevitable disaster unfold.

Rumplestiltskin stood beside an ancient tapestry depicting the shining halls of Asgard, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from his coat as he admired the artwork.

"Today's tragedy," he announced cheerfully, "features the most beloved god in all of Asgard. Handsome, kind, fearless, admired by everyone..."

Alice narrowed her eyes. "You're smiling far too much already."

"Oh, absolutely," Rumple replied. "Because this story also stars Loki."

Thorn leaned back in his chair with a grin. "Now that's the important part."

Rumple clasped his hands together. "Balder. Son of Odin and Frigg. Beautiful enough that poets ran out of compliments. So pure that flowers supposedly bloomed wherever he walked."

Alice took another sip of tea. "That sounds exhausting."

"It probably was," Thorn agreed. "Imagine trying to live up to that reputation."

Rumple chuckled. "Then one night Frigg began having dreadful dreams. Visions of Balder's death. Naturally, she panicked."

"As mothers tend to do," Alice admitted.

"So she traveled across the Nine Realms demanding promises from absolutely everything." Rumple spread his arms dramatically. "Stone, iron, fire, water, beasts, diseases, poisons... everything swore never to harm her precious son."

Thorn raised an eyebrow. "Everything?"

"Almost."

Alice already looked suspicious.

Rumple's grin widened. "She overlooked one tiny little plant."

"Mistletoe," Alice sighed.

"The humble little parasite hanging in trees," Rumple said with obvious delight. "Frigg thought it too young and harmless to matter."

Thorn laughed quietly. "History has an incredible talent for making 'harmless' into everyone's greatest mistake."

Rumple wandered toward the enormous map hanging across one wall of the studio. "Once word spread that Balder could no longer be harmed, the gods celebrated in exactly the way you'd expect immortals to celebrate."

Alice looked concerned.

"They threw things at him."

There was a brief silence.

"They... what?" Alice finally asked.

"They threw weapons. Rocks. Spears. Axes. Whatever happened to be nearby," Rumple explained matter-of-factly. "Everything bounced off harmlessly. The gods thought it was magnificent entertainment."

Alice slowly lowered her teacup.

"I've met some questionable immortals," she said, "but using your nearly indestructible friend for target practice might be the strangest celebration I've ever heard."

"It does explain quite a lot about Asgard," Thorn muttered.

Rumple nodded enthusiastically. "Which, naturally, attracted Loki."

"The words every sensible person dreads," Alice replied.

"Loki watched everyone celebrating," Rumple continued. "Then curiosity crept into that wonderfully troublesome mind of his. Surely there had to be something capable of harming Balder."

Thorn folded his arms. "So he went digging."

"Oh, he did far more than dig." Rumple's eyes gleamed. "He disguised himself and visited Frigg herself. She proudly explained that every object in creation had sworn an oath..."

Alice pinched the bridge of her nose.

"...except mistletoe."

"Because of course she told Loki the secret," Alice muttered.

Rumple spread his hands innocently. "Never underestimate the power of oversharing."

The white raven let out a sharp caw from its perch.

"I believe our feathered observer agrees," Thorn said.

Rumple plucked an imaginary sprig from the air. "Loki fashioned a dart from mistletoe and sought out Höðr, Balder's blind brother."

Alice's expression darkened.

"Höðr wasn't joining the festivities," Rumple continued, his voice growing quieter. "He couldn't see where to throw."

"So Loki offered to help," Thorn finished.

Rumple nodded once.

"He guided Höðr's hand."

The studio seemed strangely still.

"The mistletoe flew."

"It struck Balder."

"And the god beloved by every corner of Asgard fell dead."

Alice stared into her teacup for several moments before speaking.

"You know," she said softly, "that's the cruelest part."

Rumple looked at her.

"It wasn't strength that killed Balder. It wasn't some impossible monster or glorious battle." She shook her head. "It was trust. A brother trusted someone standing beside him. A mother believed she'd thought of everything. The gods believed they were untouchable."

Thorn nodded thoughtfully.

"And Loki understood exactly where certainty becomes weakness."

Rumple smiled, though it lacked its usual triumph.

"The finest tricksters never force the door open. They simply wait for someone else to hand them the key."

Alice sighed.

"I almost admire the strategy."

"Almost?" Thorn teased.

"Oh, the strategy was brilliant," Alice admitted. "The consequences were catastrophic."

Rumple wandered back toward the tapestry of Asgard.

"Balder's death would become far more than a family tragedy," he said. "It marked the beginning of the end. The first great crack in Asgard's golden halls. A sorrow so deep that even the gods could not escape what destiny had already written."

"And all because of one overlooked branch," Thorn murmured.

"No," Alice corrected quietly. "Because someone understood that perfection always has one forgotten corner."

The white raven spread its wings before disappearing through the open studio window without another sound.

Rumplestiltskin watched it vanish into the twilight and smiled knowingly.

"It never takes much," he said. "One secret. One loose thread. One trickster willing to ask the question no one else considered."

The studio fell comfortably silent once more. Somewhere, another kettle began to whistle, another scroll waited to be unrolled, and another legend patiently awaited the judgment of three immortals who never seemed to agree on anything.

Except one thing.

If Loki appeared in the story, someone was about to have a very, very bad day.

🖋️✨📜🖤