Bloodlines of the Ancient Pantheons

Chapter 612: DCXII. The Divine Melody

The corridor curved at the end of yet another staircase that led Dag and Fulla to the ground floor of the bronze tower.

During their walk and chat, Dag, despite having no intention of flirting with her, could not help but notice how transparent the handmaid's dress was: it was cream-colored, with two splits at the hips, just like Frigg's, but much more breasty at the top.

In addition to the 'U' neckline that hinted at the young girl's chest, both of her firm breasts were clearly visible under the silk, which, bending softly, perfectly fit every curve of her athletic and dry body, almost statuesque.

Each of her movements, even the banalest, stood out in the eyes of Dag, who was forced to focus on his facial expressions so as not to make Fulla realize that he was incredibly attracted to her body.

In addition to her eyes and thick, soft hair, the girl's face seemed to have no flaws, from full lips to tall, proportionate cheekbones.

"Mmmh, no... was absolutely not unpleasant. Anyway, my name is Dag and... as I think you already know, I was not born on Skjold, but in Midgard, like you, from what I understood" Dag exclaimed, starting again to speak after a pause that seemed to last an eternity, so as to familiarize himself with the handmaid, knowing that sincere friendships to someone who lived in Asgard could only do him good. 

"Yes, I too was born on Earth, as was Gn and Hlin, the other two handmaidens of her Majesty the Queen. Frigg loves terrestrial women, she believes they are more polite and sensitive than females of the other kingdoms of Yggdrasil" Fulla replied, referring to her 'colleagues'. 

"Yes, but you knew the Earth when it was not yet under the rule of the Frostsinners, right? The real Sun was illuminating its surface, teeming with plants and other living things, wasn't it?" Dag asked, who couldn't wait to know what his home planet was like before all that chaos originated.

"Before the Frostsinners, Midgard was a magnificent place. Animals and plants of all kinds, many climates, and so many biomes... it was the Alfather's favorite kingdom, you can imagine why. Thor too loved the Midgard of the past, he spent a lot of time camouflaging himself among mortals to learn their habits and language" Fulla confirmed.

"Thor..." Dag whispered, who finally heard the name of his Clan's God spoken loudly by someone who had really known him.

Fulla looked at him timidly, instantly realizing that she had just named the idol of the young Dag, the divine warrior who had inspired him during his battles.

"Apparently, our only hope is you, or rather, is what Alfather said when he decided to go down to Skjold to come to your rescue" the girl continued as if she wanted to foment her interlocutor, who marveled at those words.

"I hope so. I will do my best to save you from your captivity! I know everything, Fulla. I wasn't here with you that day, but I know your story perfectly, thanks to the blacksmith Weland, who told me in detail how you and other Gods were driven out from Earth and exiled here, through the skies of Skjold by the Frostsinners. Those sons of bitches will pay for it, I will kill them all, from the first to the last." 

After uttering that phrase, Dag looked away from the girl and his eyes darkened, hinting at all the hatred he felt for the alien race, which had taken everything from his biological family to his childhood friends.

As they continued the speech, more than 15 minutes after Dag had left the infirmary, the two exited the large bronze tower, crossing a huge door of the same material overlooking the street.

Once out, Dag could only admire the surreal panorama in front of him, unable to believe he was walking the streets of Asgard.

With a few small differences from the images that portrayed it in his school books, the capital of the Aesir, perfectly mirrored the descriptions of legends and shone under the rays of the artificial Sun: among all the bronze and golden palaces, there was one twice as tall, a castle entirely made of shiny silver, with the upper end consisting of a pointed tower.

"That's the Vlaskjlf, right?" Dag asked, pointing to the tip of the castle that rose above everything. 

"That's right, that's where the Alfather lives. And that's where we're going. He has been waiting for you for days in the hall of the Hlidskjlf, his divine throne" Fulla replied with confidence, who had been commissioned by Frigg himself to escort Dag to the royal palace. 

The road under Dag's feet was made up of so many small square white stone tiles, so clean that he imagined that no one had ever stepped on them before.

Plants and other objects of dubious nature adorned the corners of the palaces and the edges of the many paths that like the branches of a tree spread within the city.

Despite its wealth and splendor, Asgard was not so big, because of its small population: from his past studies, Dag was perfectly able to remember that the Aesir and some of the Vanir who were allowed to live in the kingdom of heaven were just under a hundred individuals, but that each of them was entitled to choose loyal servants and bring them to the shining city.

Few people walked down the street and the mere thought that they were Gods or demi-Gods, goosebumps came up to the young earthly warrior, who timidly avoided crossing his gaze with that of all passers-by, especially those who looked at him insistently.

"I don't have to calm down... I'm in Asgar, fuck, it all sounds like a great dream, but... that is not the reality. I left Freydis and Reidar in Krypstorm, leaving the planet against my will. The Alfather's choice was not much different from a real kidnapping, when I'll meet him, I will ask him to return to Skjold and carry out the prophecy. There's also Claire in Tungvek... she and Freydis could be in serious danger if Reidar can't..." 

While Dag frantically thought of everything that had happened to him before waking up in the comfortable bed of the Asgardian infirmary, his thoughts were gently interrupted by a harmonious and gentle sound that came from the road he was walking with Fulla.

His gaze fell right in that direction, where about ten people were gathered in a circle and were listening smugly to an artist who was performing and was making Asgard's already surreal atmosphere even more magical.

"What's going on over there? Who's playing?" Dag said, who without asking Fulla's permission, deviated from the road leading to the castle and approached the group of people, walking slowly so as not to disturb the musician.

Fulla, smiling, followed her host, believing that a little detour would not be too big a problem.

Making space politely among the people, Dag finally managed to see the musician, and his mind remained trapped between the notes of that harp, which played the most beautiful and engaging melody he had ever heard in his entire life.

A man with a long beard and long brown hair, wore the typical bard dress, consisting of a skirt of fabric above the knees and a kind of tank top of the same green fabric, which left his arms uncovered, able to move easily between the long ropes of the instrument.

The lower part of the harp was resting on the ground and the bearded man was sitting above it, consisting of a small block of wood, created specifically for that purpose.

In addition to having a wonderful sound, the workmanship of that stringed instrument was also incredible: it was all made of wood and its edges were embedded with thin golden designs, depicting some of the exploits of Odin and Thor, such as the fight between the God of thunder and Jormungandr, the world serpent, whose long tail covered the edge of the harp to the lower edge.

The bard's dark hands, consumed by time and full of calluses, continued to sinuously sway the fingers, which grazed the strings in quick succession, allowing them to play as if they were the natural continuation of the tendons of his arm, which moved in time.

With his eyes closed and partially covered with long, careless hair, which, coupled with a growing beard, gave him a homeless look, the musician continued to sound undaunted, never stopping.

The minutes passed but seemed to fly away as Dag, along with Fulla and all the rest of the small audience that had been created in the middle of the street, became trapped in that melody, which almost suddenly ended, dispersing into the air and interrupting everyone's breath.

After his performance, the bard received applause worthy of his song, in which Dag and Fulla also participated enthusiastically.